Love on the Boardwalk

by Christi Barth

  “So you’ll wait until Joe gets here to do anything else? Promise? You’ll keep a low profile until the cavalry arrives?”

  “Of course.” She was stubborn, not stupid. Trina wouldn’t even darken the door of Club Eden again until Joe was beside her. “Besides, I’m spending the night with Brad. What could be safer?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Brad paced the carpeted hallway. One so long that it felt like an airport terminal instead of a convention hotel. Not that the Trump Taj Mahal was in the same class as run-of-the-mill convention hotels. Everything here was mirrored, framed in gold, or both, starting with the bulbous assortment of white and gold domes on the roof. Brad couldn’t swear to the authenticity of the Indian touches, but he could say it felt exotically lavish. Foreign. As foreign as the thrill of waiting for a woman he cared about to dance with him.

  He’d looked at one end for Trina. Then hiked it to the opposite end—far enough that he couldn’t pick out the faces of anyone at the other set of escalators. Not that it was easy to spot for Trina at all. The hall was packed wall to wall with women in sequins and satin. Men, too. Ballroom dance costumes weren’t exactly subtle. Bright dresses were either skin tight or flowed with enough fabric to make three dresses. The flamenco and tango men wore shirts with extravagantly poofed sleeves. Brad had tried to dance in one. Once. He couldn’t stop snickering the whole time.

  Checking his watch, he realized she was even later than he’d thought. Maybe she’d changed her mind. Decided that once—well, four times, but all in one night—was enough to get him out of her system. Brad wasn’t ready to jam a diamond ring on anyone again soon. But Brad was crazy about her. She was sexy and cute and funny and the most fun he’d had in over a year.

  “Those pants are so tight I can tell your religion.” Coop laid a heavy hand on his cousin’s shoulder to steady himself as he whooped with laughter.

  “Hi to you, too,” Brad said sourly. Yeah, his cousin had showed up at a good number of his competitions over the years. Cheered loudly for him. But Coop also teased him just enough to get his hackles up.

  “Aren’t you scared they’re going to rip? Flash your junk to the judges?”

  “Hey, if that happens, I’m guaranteed the highest score of the night. I’m not worried either way.” Brad shifted to peer through the crowd. “Where are the girls?”

  “Probably still in line for the elevator. Trina’s trailing a serious amount of dress behind her. She was worried she’d get it stuck in the escalator.”

  Yeah, the crazy costumes were Brad’s least favorite part of this sport. And to him, it was a sport. A fast-paced couple hours of dance rehearsal left him dripping with sweat and as wrung-out as a gym workout followed by a ten-mile run. So he wore just a plain black shirt with his pants. And hoped to hell Trina didn’t have feathers dangling from her hair in some intricate headpiece.

  “Are you going to stick around and watch?”

  Coop nodded. “We’ll stay long enough to watch you dance once, and then we’re headed to dinner. I promised your mom and mine that I’d call them with a report. They miss seeing you do this. God knows why.”

  “I’ve missed it, too.” Brad wanted to kick himself. He’d fallen into a funk even before Dana officially left him. Seeing the ad about this event had lit a fire underneath him. Being here, getting a competition buzz from all the adrenaline in the air, made him realize all over again that there was more to life than work. Trina would totally get what he was feeling. He craned his neck again, wanting to tell her.

  “I’ve seen that look before,” said Coop with a smirk. “In my own damn mirror.”

  “What look?”

  “The one you’re wearing that says your brains have dropped down to your fly. I know you told me that you and Trina hooked up, but it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not,” he hedged.

  “The way you look, I’d put money on it. What’s the problem?”

  That it was too good. That maybe it was one-sided. That Trina saw cheering him up as just a fun chore to be scratched off from her to-do list. How could he say that without admitting to some serious navel gazing? “She gets bored easily. Likes to jump around from one thing to another.”

  “So? Keep her interested. Figure out how to make it work.”

  Engaged for less than forty-eight hours, and suddenly Coop was a relationship guru. “It isn’t that easy.”

  “It isn’t that hard, either. Remember when Darcy and I met? She was deciding whether or not to take a job in Africa. Freaking another continent! Now that was a real problem. Especially since after less than a week with her, I knew I couldn’t let her go.”

  Yeah. Brad was having those feelings himself about Trina. He knew he’d had more fun, felt more himself with her in less than a week than in the whole fourteen months he’d been with his ex-fiancée. And what was really holding him back was the worry that she might not feel the same way. That she was so caught up in the whole pick a career decision that he’d have trouble convincing her to take a chance on sticking with him. Safer, for now at least, to lash out his frustration on Coop.

  So he scowled. “Hoping for a solution doesn’t solve everything.”

  “No, but love does.”

  Christ. “That is the girliest freaking thing you’ve ever said. I’m surprised your dick didn’t just shrivel up and drop off in embarrassment. What’s next—are you going to want your own big white dress to wear down the aisle?”

  Coop shrugged. “Think about it.” And then he waved a hand high in the air.

  Brad looked in that direction and spotted Trina. It wasn’t hard. Her bell of sunset-colored hair stood out among all the other women’s tightly shellacked buns. A choker with a full white rose bloomed at her neck. White sequins tightly hugged the curves of her chest he now knew so well. Her chiffon skirt—yeah, he hated himself a little for having picked up all the dress terms from his years of competition—had enough material to fly up to her waist in a good spin, and it was ringed with white feathers. In other words, she was a wet dream of a ballroom partner come to life.

  Trina skipped up to him, her cheeks bright red. “I’m sorry I’m late. I know we start in five minutes. I didn’t realize just how crazy packed this whole place would be. Or that I’d have to try on a dozen dresses from Pearl’s costume closet to find one that fit. But I know how important this is, so I wanted to look perfect for you. And now I’m babbling. But I’m excited. We’re going to have such a great time!”

  Framing her face with his hands, staring into her sparkling eyes, Brad said, “You look beautiful.”

  “Brad, you should have NSFW stamped across your ass,” said Darcy. “Those pants are tight!”

  “See? That’s why I’m marrying you,” laughed Coop. “We’ll be in the second row, just off center. Break anything but your legs, guys.”

  Brad didn’t bother to look up as they left. He was perfectly happy locked in Trina’s gaze. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble. You could’ve worn jeans, for all I care. I’m just glad you’re here.”

  “I’m probably, no, definitely not as good as you. At the very least rusty. I’ll just fumble through the opening free-dance, and then I’ll go sit out front. Clap like crazy as you work your magic with better partners.”

  “Better dancers, maybe. Better partners? No way.” With a quick brush of his lips against hers—raspberry flavored today, God he loved that—Brad tugged her into the line stretching into the dark corner of the ballroom curtained off as a backstage area. He’d already checked in and been assigned two partners on standby. There were always injuries and people who didn’t want to tank the competition just because their partner twisted a knee.

  The confined space reeked of hair spray. Feet tapped in a dozen different rhythms. People pressed against them seam to seam. Jittery nerves led to mor
e than a couple snapped arguments in loud stage whispers. Chiffon and satin rustled louder than the wind through an aspen forest. He fucking loved it.

  A tall woman in a cowboy fringed vest barely zipped over porn-star breasts pushed them hard into his arm. “Here, you dropped this,” she said as she shoved a folded piece of paper at Trina.

  “Oh, thanks.” Trina looked down at it, then back up. “But I didn’t drop—” It was too late. The woman had already snaked away through the crowd. “Weird. That was Jasmine, from the club. She didn’t even stick around to say hi.”

  “Probably because we’re starting in a couple of minutes. Nice that she came out to watch you.”

  “Yeah.” Trina unfolded the paper, then gasped. “It says, Steel Pier. Ten minutes. I’ll tell you where to find the 2nd warehouse, if you promise to stop Ralph.” She gave a little jump. “I have an informant. This is so cool!”

  Brad took it. All the letters were cut outs from magazines and newspapers. He had the random thought that in another ten years, when everything was digital, it’d be a lot harder to get clues from snitches. “Good for you.” She’d really come through. A surge of pride rushed into his chest. “You found a warehouse?”

  “I’ll tell you all about it over dinner.” She folded it back up and tucked it into the deep vee of her dress. “I think I’ll put it in my scrapbook once I show it to Joe.” And then she took his hand again and faced the velvet drape to the stage.

  Weird. “What are you doing just standing here? You have to go, now.”

  She swirled the feather border of her skirt back and forth across his shoes. “Oh, no. I’m not leaving you.”

  When it came to everything else about this case, she was gung-ho. Even before it had proved to be a full-fledged case. Why the hell would she hold back now? “Trina, this is nuts. Clues almost never fall into your lap this easily. Don’t waste it. Go follow this lead.”

  “I can’t.” She smoothed a soft palm down his cheek. “The last thing you need is another woman abandoning you—again—for a job. I won’t do that to you.”

  The simple assertion squeezed at his heart like nothing else ever had. What a woman. It made him want to back her up to the wall and kiss the bejesus out of her. But he’d hold that impulse for later. Instead, Brad took her wrist, dropped a kiss into her palm and closed her fingers over it. “You have to go, Trina. I’ll be fine. You know why? The difference between you and Dana is that I know you’ll come back to me tonight once your job is done.”

  “But—”

  “I don’t want you to miss your chance to nail this guy. We’ll have lots of other chances to dance together.” He’d make sure of it.

  “I won’t be long. Thanks.” She smacked a kiss on him and darted away.

  Brad dragged a hand through his hair. Yeah, he was disappointed. But he didn’t regret urging her to leave. It was the right thing to do. He pushed his way out of the lineup. It took a couple of minutes to work his way back around through the crowd of last-minute audience members pushing their way into the ballroom to spot for Coop and Darcy. He’d send them off to dinner early. Coop would be thrilled

  The pair wasn’t hard to spot just as the lights dimmed. But what caught his eye first was the tall woman in the fringed vest easing into a seat at the end of their row. Trina’s informant. But if she was sitting down to watch the show, who the hell was waiting at the Steel Pier for Trina?

  Alarm bells went off in his head. This felt eight kinds of wrong. He’d done his best to be hands-off with Trina’s investigation. Didn’t even ask what new leads she’d followed up on over the last two days, because he didn’t want to step on her touchy, independent toes.

  On the other hand, she still had training wheels in this whole investigation business. Once she’d dug her heels into the case, Joe Shulman should’ve come up and guided her. And ordered Trina to keep her distance until he got here.

  Hell, they didn’t let freshly graduated cadets from the Academy go out alone on patrol. Guilt surged through him, with a wave of fear right on its heels. It didn’t matter if she got mad, or thought he was interfering. Brad would rather risk pissing her off than risk her safety. As the first few notes of the opening waltz rang out, he kneed his way down the row ’til he got to his partner and Darcy.

  “I need your help. Trina’s in trouble.”

  * * *

  Trina hurried across the Boardwalk into the arcade that marked the entrance to the Steel Pier. A shooting game called Stinky Feet, with rows of cartoon men in bathtubs, was on her left. Cages of plush toys in primary colors were on her right. This being an AC arcade, there were even a couple of slot machines against the wall. What a fun place for a meet. Public—although its relative emptiness and total lack of children attested to it being dinnertime—which made it both a safe and smart place to swap information. If she’d had a little more time, she would’ve given in to impulse and spun in a circle with glee. Brad believed in her enough to send her off after this lead. And he also believed in them enough to know that she’d be back to support him as soon as possible. What could possibly make this night any greater?

  Well, for one, a cell phone. She’d dressed to dance, not to investigate. That meant no notepad and no just in case anything went wrong cell phone. Not that anything would go wrong. But Joe had drummed into her his number one rule; the need to “always plan for the inevitable worst.” His number two rule? “Never count on anyone to rescue you but yourself.” Trina knew neither of those applied to meeting with Jasmine. Still, she’d tried from day one to follow every rule...or at least make a conscious and informed choice about breaking them. This fell into neither category. Aside from the conscious choice not to mention this lapse in planning to Joe.

  Trina halted in front of the ornate, two-level carousel. The noise hit her first. Music blared from each ride. The shooting games clanged behind her. Screams rang out at odd intervals from people either having fun or getting queasy from the pinwheel. And a stiff wind roared at her from the ocean. She planted her feet and took stock of the layout as groups of jeans-clad tweens and hoodied teens elbowed past. Jasmine’s note hadn’t been specific on where to meet. The Steel Pier extended far out over the ocean. To the right were teacups spinning around a huge, blue and white tea kettle. Behind it rambled the lazy loops of the Crazy Mouse coaster. Kiddie stuff.

  Trina gave up on the delicate thread that looped her train around her wrist. Marabou feathers didn’t deserve to be dragged across the ground covered with popcorn, slushies and undoubtedly evidence of people who couldn’t quite stomach the teacups. Instead, she gathered great hunks of dress in her hands and veered left, around the carousel and up the ramp past the red, white and blue claw machines. This side had the more adult flying swings and giant slingshot. Nobody would look twice at two grown women hanging out in front of them without any kids.

  She stopped in front of the iconic giant Ferris wheel. Craned her neck back to look at it. The sunburst spokes connected to buckets striped in red, yellow, blue and green. It brought back great memories of the summer she spent operating a smaller Ferris wheel in Ocean City to earn enough for a down payment on a car. This one was far superior, being much taller and sitting right on top of the Atlantic. Maybe she’d bring Brad back here later for a ride. And some sexy smooches when the inevitable romantic pause at the top came.

  “Don’t move. Don’t scream. Don’t even breathe.”

  Something round dug into her side. It could be a corn dog on a stick. Or the end of a hairbrush. But Trina had watched enough cop shows to suspect it was the barrel of a gun. After all, who would threaten her with a corn dog—an angry vegan? Without moving, she slanted her gaze to the side...and down...just enough to catch sight of Ralph’s profile. And a whiff of his really bad cologne.

  “There are easier ways to get a girl to ride a Ferris wheel, you know.” It was a lame attempt at a joke. But something
about the pressure of the gun on her ribs seemed to short-circuit at least ninety-nine percent of her brain cells.

  “Don’t get cute.”

  “Sorry. Born that way.”

  “You and me are gonna have a little talk. Don’t bother trying to scream or nothin’. I’ll have this trigger pulled before you open your mouth. While you’re lying here bleeding, I’ll just blend in with the crowd and escape.”

  “Good to know you’re a man with a plan.” Her plan so far was to stall. To keep him talking until somebody noticed them. Unfortunately, Ralph slid his other arm around her waist, pulling her closer. Worse yet, he angled his body to hide the gun with his gut. And this being Atlantic City, nobody gave a second glance to a woman in formalwear with a feather boa floofing at the bottom of her dress.

  He pulled her toward the entrance to the Ferris wheel. “Why did you follow Misty to my warehouse?”

  “I want in. I was scared to say anything at the Club, but I need money.” Wow. That was sort of inspired. Especially if he bought it.

  Amazingly, his grip loosened a bit. “Thought that might be it. But you’ve got no one to vouch for you. And now you’ve seen the west warehouse.”

  “The west warehouse?” Her mind scrambled to focus. Once the gun appeared, Trina had assumed the information in the note was all a lie. “You mean there is more than one?”

  Another jab to her ribs. “None of your business. Not yet, anyway. Why should I trust you?”

  Trina forced out a dry cackle. “I waitress in a strip club. My boobs aren’t big enough to earn real money there. Clearly, if I had any other option, I’d be using it.”