Bump & Grind (Brewed Moon Book 1)

by J. Margot Critch

  She frowned at her reflection, and then turned her attention to all of the other women in the room. They were working on their individual routines – each confidently strutting their stuff in front of mirrors and each other, asking for tips, and offering helpful critiques. She loved these women. They were a supportive bunch. She knew that many of them struggled with their own body image issues, presently and in the past. But they were all beautiful, all fabulous. Erica smiled broadly, cleansing her attitude of negativity and turned back to her own full-length mirror.

  She was also working on her own routine today. Something completely new to her. It was a little something she had cooked-up just for Peter. He seemed to have had a really good time at her show the night before, and she thought about their encounter in the alley and she grinned, remembering him unbuckling his belt. He would have taken her there. And she would have let him.

  Erica walked across the room and grabbed a folding chair from the stack by the door and turning on the iPod that she had strapped to her upper arm, she inserted her ear buds and got to work. She didn’t have a lot of time before she had to leave; her shift at Brewed Moon started in a couple of hours.

  Later, when Erica left the dance studio, she buttoned her cardigan over her chest and clutched her purse to her shoulder. She sighed, as she often did when she left dancing to head for her job at the café. Not because she hated Brewed Moon so much, but she would obviously rather spend her time dancing. Still, she was glad that she would only be there a couple of hours. Thankfully, Azura had agreed to work the last half of her shift so Erica could go out with Peter.

  The crosswalk light blazed DON’T WALK and Erica shivered in her little sweater. The cool breeze blew right through it and she folded her arms across her chest to keep warm, before reaching out and impatiently pushing the button for the light to allow her to cross. Finally, the signal turned and she started to walk, but she felt a cold, hard hand grab her forearm. Erica turned, alarmed, scowling at whoever had held her back with an unwanted touch, and she frowned when she saw that it was Dylan O’Connell.

  “Excuse me, Miss Hardin?”

  Erica drew back. “Yes?”

  “Or should I call you Vixen La Petit?” he continued with a smirk, using her stage name. “I was wondering if you’ve had a chance to think about my proposal.”

  She had thought about it. All night, she’d thought about working for him as his entertainment manager and a dancer. Being paid to dance. But every time she looked at the man in front of her, her skin crawled. She didn’t like it when he came to the café, and she certainly didn’t like discussing her dancing with him. She shook her head. “I haven’t had a chance to discuss it with the rest of the girls.”

  “Well, that’s okay. I’m really only interested in you.”

  “I-”

  “I, of course, mean professionally,” he amended, but the lecherous look in his eye didn’t match the sentiment. “If you say yes, then you personally could perform for my patrons, and bring in any others dancers or anything else you would like.” He took out his wallet, and pulled out his business card and passed it to her. “And here’s a little something for yourself,” he went back to the wallet and pulled out a stack of bills. “Let’s just call it a deposit,” he said with a wink, and handed over the money.

  Erica looked at him and what seemed to be a substantial stack of money in his hand. She was torn. She didn’t want to take his money. But that same money would definitely put her on the path to owning her own studio and living her dream. She sighed, knowing that she had to think about her future. She reached out and took the folded bills, not feeling good about it; knowing that she was making a deal with the devil. “Sure,” Erica said, her voice low, not looking in his eyes. “I’ll work for you.”

  She already hated the man. But not as much as she hated herself for being so weak. For taking his money when she knew she shouldn’t have.

  “Come by the club Friday night. We’ll talk business.”

  She nodded without saying anything, and she put the money and card discreetly away in her purse. She turned away from Dylan O’Connell, crossing the street. She had to hurry, as she was already late for her job at Brewed Moon.

  Chapter 9

  “What’d you guys think of the show last night?” Peter asked Steve and Joe, throwing a small foam football into the air and catching it.

  They were sitting at their desks in the war room, taking a quick break while they waited for Mitch to get back from doing surveillance on Dylan O’Connell. The three of them had listened to the recordings that they’d gotten the night before. While the hidden wires didn’t result in any new intel, Steve did get a kick out of Peter’s recording of his alley rendezvous with Erica.

  “Best surveillance gig we’ve had in a while,” Steve chuckled.

  “Yeah I’ll say. Beats hanging out in smelly cars with take-out and you lot,” Joe agreed.

  “So what kind of reading do you guys get from the women?” Peter asked them.

  Joe pondered the question for a moment. “Honestly, I think the connection between the café and the O’Connell’s is a loose one at best. Maybe the O’Connell brothers were just there having coffee. It’s pretty damn fine coffee.”

  “And perhaps we should be looking into that club,” Steve reasoned. “I like the chances of illicit acts going down there a little better than at Brewed Moon.”

  Peter was inclined to agree. Although… “But we did see Erica leaving O’Connell’s office. What was she doing there?”

  Steve shrugged. “It could have been business. Paying for the rental of the club? Maybe personal. She could be banging the guy for all we know.” Mitch nodded along.

  Peter considered the options. He and Erica had had a one-night-stand. It’s not like they had had a conversation about exclusivity. He didn’t know if she was seeing anyone else, but the thought of her with Dylan O’Connell disgusted him. He changed the subject. “Juliana was pretty cool to us last night.”

  “I noticed that,” Joe agreed.

  “But is that because she’s dirty?” Peter asked.

  “She’s got no record. And I’ve taken a look at her financials from her last few tax returns and her bank accounts,” Steve alluded to his skills at breaking into electronic government and financial databases for any information he might need. “No large deposits or withdrawals. Brewed Moon just recently started turning a profit. There’s no indication she’s into anything criminal.”

  Peter tented his fingers in front of his nose. “You’re right.” He shrugged. “I’m assuming that she knows that Erica and I hooked up. Maybe she’s just a protective girlfriend.”

  “You’re instincts are usually pretty spot on though,” Steve told him. “Are you sure you just aren’t looking to deflect attention from your girlfriend? Maybe Erica’s a criminal mastermind in a burlesque dancer’s clothing… or lack of clothing, to be more accurate, I guess,” he postulated and laughed when Peter threw the football at him.

  “Come on, man,” Peter caught the ball that was thrown back to him. “I don’t believe that she’s a criminal mastermind. And she certainly isn’t my girlfriend.”

  Steve snorted. “Either way, you could have given us a little warning of what we’d hear from your wire.”

  Joe’s eyebrows rose with interest. “Do tell.”

  Steve looked at Peter, who rolled his eyes. “Seems that lover boy and his not-girlfriend, Erica got a little busy in the back alley of the club.”

  “Really?”

  “We didn’t get busy,” Peter maintained. Although he was certain they most likely would have finished what they’d started if they hadn’t been interrupted by some passersby.

  “What is going on with you two?” Steve asked. “Do you like this chick?”

  Peter wasn’t entirely sure how to answer. Yes, he liked Erica. But he still didn’t know her place in the investigation. He heard the door open and close, signaling Mitch’s return, relieved that he didn’t have to answer.
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  Mitch walked into the room, holding his high-resolution camera. His face was grim and he said nothing as he removed the memory card from its slot.

  “How was surveillance?” Steve asked him, dropping the football on his desk. Mitch was back, the time for playing was over.

  “Interesting,” Mitch muttered, popping the card into the projector that was connected to his laptop computer. “Very interesting. I tailed our good friend, Dylan O’Connell for a few hours.”

  “Without us?” Peter asked him.

  Mitch shrugged. “It was a one-man job. I just took some pictures.”

  “Without backup?”

  “It wasn’t necessary.”

  “And what’d you find out?”

  In response, Mitch downloaded the pictures to his computer and opened them to show the group, on the screen, and he turned off the bright, overhead lights to make the pictures clearer.

  In the dark room, Peter and the rest of the team turned their attention to the screen as Mitch brought up the first picture and started scrolling through. They were all of Dylan O’Connell. Walking into a bar, stopping at a restaurant for lunch; Peter didn’t see much of interest until the pictures were of Dylan standing outside of a building he recognized as the studio where Erica had been practicing the night they’d slept together. O’Connell was standing on a sidewalk outside the building, and then he started off down the street, his trench coat blowing in the wind.

  “And here’s where it gets interesting,” Mitch told the group as he pushed a button and brought up the next picture.

  Peter’s attention was rapt. He recognized the waves of red hair that appeared on the screen. It was Erica. She was standing with Dylan O’Connell on the sidewalk, a little further down the street from the studio.

  “There was obviously no indication what they were talking about,” Mitch narrated. “But she isn’t exactly walking away from him, is she? And then there is this,” he said, moving on to the next picture.

  Peter’s lips formed a tight line, as he watched O’Connell give something to her, and she accepted it. “What is that?”

  “I’m not one hundred percent certain, but I think it’s a business card.” Mitch agreed. “But just wait.” He switched to the next picture, showing O’Connell putting a thick stack of cash in her hands. “Gentlemen, what is this?” he asked.

  “Cold hard cash,” Steve offered.

  Peter’s stomach dropped. He was stunned. What is this? Why would she be talking with Dylan O’Connell? Worse, taking that much money from him? Just an hour ago, he had been so sure that she wasn’t dirty. So sure that he was willing to overlook all of the small coincidences that they’d encountered. However, as he looked at the image of her accepting money from the enemy, he couldn’t ignore that.

  When Peter finally emerged from his thoughts, he noticed all three members of his team looking directly at him, waiting for some kind of reaction or input from him. “I’ve got a date with her tonight,” he finally offered, his voice low.

  “You’re going in armed and wired,” Mitch insisted.

  “I never thought otherwise for a second.” Peter’s mind raced. “I’ll get any information we need.”

  Mitch sat at his desk, leaving the picture of Erica and O’Connell on the screen. He looked at Peter. “We need you to be careful here now. We’ve got proof of definite contact with our subject. This at least brings Erica deeper into the game. Joe’s going to be your backup and tail tonight.”

  When Peter opened his mouth to protest, Mitch put up a hand.

  “We don’t know what’s going on here yet. Until we do, we aren’t taking any unnecessary chances.”

  Peter relented. He knew that he wouldn’t win this round. “Fine.”

  Mitch turned to Joe and Steve. “Guys, give us a minute?”

  “Yeah,” Steve muttered as that both stood and left the brothers alone.

  When they were gone, Mitch leaned in closer to Peter. “Are you too close to this?”

  Peter really didn’t want to get into this, especially with his brother, but he sighed, and leaned back in his chair. He put his head back and looked at the ceiling. “I don’t know. She just does something to me. I try to focus, concentrate on the job. But the minute I get near her all bets are off.”

  Mitch chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “She’s beautiful.”

  Peter shook his head. “Nah man, I’ve been with beautiful women before, but there’s something more. It’s scary how quickly I lose control around her.” He nodded with resolve.

  “If you’re going to be working on this case, you need to keep a level head. Distraction leads to danger.”

  Peter nodded. “I know. I’m going to dinner with her tonight, I’ll find out what we need to know. But I need to be realistic. After tonight, I need to keep my distance. The temptation is too much. And if she is involved with the O’Connell’s, then she can only lead to trouble.”

  Chapter 10

  Erica heard an authoritative knock on the door. Peter. She checked out her reflection in the mirror. The black skintight dress hugged her curves flawlessly. She slipped into her favorite cherry red stilettos, and turned in the mirror to get the back view, admiring the gold exposed zipper that ran from the middle of her shoulder blades to just above her behind. She smoothed her hand down her backside and grinned. Peter had already shown great affection for that particular part of her anatomy, and the dress along with the heels really did the job of making her look and feel amazing.

  With a devious smile, she ignored his first knock, letting him cool his heels a little at the door to throw him a little off balance. She heard another quick rap on her door. He wasn’t exactly the patient type. She fluffed her long, red waves in the mirror, and finally sauntered to greet him at the door. She stopped in the living room and glanced around to ensure that everything was in place for later. Azura was out of the apartment for the evening and had a gig later that night, so they would be afforded the privacy they needed for most of the entire night.

  Opening the door, she was greeted by the view of a man that somehow seemed stop her breath every time. He stood there in the hallway, his arms folded impatiently across his chest, in a blue fitted shirt and grey slacks. It was the first time she had seen him not wearing the worn jeans and t-shirt combo in which he was comfortable. He’d looked good before, but as he stood in her doorway in more formal clothing, she marveled at how well the style fit him.

  She smiled, noting that while he’d recently shaved, his face looked so smooth she wanted to touch it, and despite the fact that wore different clothing his hair was still shaggy and untidy. Peter couldn’t be tamed all the way, it seemed. Not that she would ever want to.

  “Hi,” she said coolly, trying to conceal the anxiousness she actually felt.

  “Hi,” he placed a hand on her cheek and leaned in and took her mouth in another spectacular kiss. That man could kiss. His lips opened above hers and she allowed him access to her mouth. He was minty and fresh, and had he not pulled away when he did, she might have abandoned all plans of dinner and pulled him inside.

  When he released her, she felt dizzy and dazed, and she placed a hand on the door frame to steady herself. “You look great. Different. But great,” she stammered.

  “I do clean up pretty well,” he agreed, with a grin. “But you,” he shook his head appreciatively. She could feel his eyes move up and down her body, taking in her every arch and curve. “You look spectacular.”

  Nervous under his scrutiny, she gave a small giggle and did a silly curtsy. “Why thank you.” She smoothed her hands over her stomach and down her thighs in a seductive move, in hopes of giving herself the upper hand again. She was uncomfortable with the way he disarmed her so completely every time he was near. “This is my favorite dress.”

  She still felt his heated gaze on her; he hadn’t taken his eyes from her figure. “I think it might be my favorite as well,” he told her, his devious tongue briefly peeking from between his lips, wetting th
em.

  Well, there goes my upper hand, she sighed to herself, as her the temperature rose, felt herself flush, and fought the urge to fan herself as if she were a damsel in an old western.

  “Let’s go.” He offered his arm, she took it, and let him escort her down the hallway.

  Peter brought the last forkful of his chocolate cake to his mouth. It had been a magnificent meal, and Erica was excellent company. It turned out that they had a lot in common – favourite movies, food, books. Not only was she beautiful, but she was whip smart and funny as hell. He was having a great time.

  He looked across the table and watched her as she spooned the crème brûlée from the little dish in front of her. With every spoonful, she would close her eyes, and moan, the small noise emanating from the back of her throat only loud enough for him to hear. He had never considered how erotic it could be to watch a woman eat. He wouldn’t dare look away as she brought her wine glass to her red lips, or when her quick, pink tongue darted out to sweep up a stray crumb or droplet of wine that clung to her mouth. He once again forgot that he was on the job. After all, the reason he was there was to collect information on what possible business she had with Dylan O’Connell. He needed to find out what the money was for.

  “So how long have you worked at Brewed Moon?” Peter asked her. Of course, he already knew the answer. He had already learned so much about her through the investigation.