by Chris Taylor
Her heart pounded. The guard hadn’t stopped to close the door. If she hurried, she could sneak inside before he noticed. It was a stroke of luck she wasn’t about to let pass her by.
As quickly as she could, she dashed across the last few feet that separated her from the back door of the brothel. Stepping through the opening, she breathed a sigh of relief.
She was in. Again.
She’d taken the time to dress in dark clothing, hoping to remain as inconspicuous as possible. She’d teamed the short, black leather skirt she’d worn the last time with a tight, black T-shirt. The fishnet stockings were also back, as were the five-inch heels.
Her black wig looked a little worse for wear, but she’d done her best to smooth it down. Even so, it was more of a “just climbed out of bed” look which she supposed would fit in just fine. She had no intention of ending up out on the stage again, but she didn’t want to look conspicuous to the casual observer and that meant dressing the part.
Malee had told Savannah during her first visit that it wasn’t unusual for the girls to wander around the main part of the club before a show, offering drinks and engaging in small talk with the patrons. It was all part of the service and a way to entice the men to spend more intimate time with them behind closed doors, where the real money was made.
Her plan was to pretend to be one of the girls working the floor. She’d do her best to use her time to seek out any place her brother might be. She’d seen him in the main room the last time. It was possible, if he worked for Maranoa, he might be there again.
She only hoped she wouldn’t run into the boss. According to Will’s intelligence, something big was going down. The last thing she wanted was to get caught up in the middle of it, but knowing arrests might be imminent only increased the pressure to find her brother—before the police did.
* * *
Will’s drink sat untouched on the bar. Regaining his seat, he thought of Savannah and frowned. She’d sounded strained, but he guessed she was still a little annoyed that he’d refused to allow her to accompany him.
As if he would ever willingly put her in danger like that again? It was ludicrous to even suggest it, but he’d have to tread carefully. She was used to making her own decisions and her stubborn independence was one of the things he admired about her. She would also have to realize there were certain things he was not prepared to negotiate. Hanging out in a brothel owned by a dangerous criminal while pretending to be a prostitute the drug lord had already expressed an interest in was definitely number one on his list.
Will picked up his glass of scotch and took a healthy swallow. The room was still a long way from crowded, although there were a few more girls circulating and another small group of men had taken up a position at a table in the far corner of the room. His gaze swept over them again and he tensed when he realized one of the men was Vince Maranoa.
In an effort to catch a glimpse of Maranoa’s companions, Will slid off the stool and leaned back against the bar. He caught a flash of wild gray hair and suddenly knew the identity of at least one of them.
Max O’Connor. An interesting coincidence. Too bad for Max, Will didn’t believe in coincidences. He turned back toward the bar to avoid being recognized by the editor and noticed the bartender standing uncomfortably close. Knowing that the man had probably caught him staring at Maranoa and his companions, he decided to play it straight.
“That’s Vince Maranoa over there, isn’t it?” He flicked his head nonchalantly in the direction of their table. The barman nodded.
“I’ve heard so much about him. What’s he like to work for?”
The man shrugged noncommittally. Using a cloth he’d slung over his shoulder, he picked up glasses from a rack nearby and began to dry them. Will took another sip from his drink and tried again.
“Been working here long?”
“Three years, give or take a month or two. Every day’s the same after awhile.”
Will grinned with forced camaraderie. “Yeah. I know what you mean. Same shit, different day, right?”
The barman offered the tiniest of smiles and continued drying.
“You must see a fair number of people pass through here?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“What about the blokes talking to Vince? You ever see them here before?”
The barman moved slightly away until he had a better view of the men at the back of the room. He gave Will a slight nod.
“Yeah, they’re both regulars. The young one’s Billy—Billy the Kid, Vince calls him. He’s Vince’s right hand man—or so the brat brags to anyone who’ll listen. I don’t know how he got so thick with Vince in such a short time. He’s only been here five minutes. Georgie reckons the Kid reminds Vince of himself when he was younger.”
“And the other man?”
“Yeah, the older bloke’s a mate of Vince’s. He’s known him forever.”
Will’s heart pounded. Could the barman’s information be right? Could Max O’Connor and Vince Maranoa have a history? If that was true, it was another coincidence in a string of them that were making Will very uneasy. And what of Billy?
Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw Max stand and shake Vince’s hand. The editor would have to pass right by the bar to reach the exit. Will muttered a curse under his breath, thinking fast. Standing abruptly, he headed for the men’s restroom in the opposite direction. Despite Max’s knowledge of Will’s tendency to frequent the Black Opal, he had no desire to remind the man of his connection to it.
Shouldering open the door to the bathroom, he went into a stall and shut the door behind him. As he closed the lid on the toilet and sat down, a tumult of thoughts raced through in his head.
O’Connor was living beyond his means. Will had found recent, strangely altered copies of the editor’s newspaper in the brothel’s dumpster. If the bartender could be believed, Maranoa and O’Connor had known each other for years and O’Connor was a regular patron of Maranoa’s brothel. The editor had warned Savannah away from the Black Opal.
The pieces fell into place. Will cursed aloud.
Max was involved. There was no other explanation. He was the common denominator. Everywhere Will turned, there was a link to the man.
He glanced at his watch. It was a little after ten. He thought wistfully of Savannah who was probably getting ready for bed after their marathon sex sessions the night before. He was exhausted too and suddenly yearned to have the night over with, so he could join her.
Opening the door of the stall, he rinsed his hands in the sink, threw some water over his face and dried off with paper towel. He looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was decidedly disheveled. It looked like he’d been involved in a scuffle. It must have happened while he’d been ducking for cover outside. Running his hands through his hair, he smoothed the strands in an attempt to tidy up.
He pulled open the door to leave the men’s room and glanced around the main bar. O’Connor was nowhere to be seen. The man named Billy had also vanished. Two other men had now joined Maranoa at his table.
Will turned back toward the bar, intent on finishing his drink. He was halfway across the room when the staff door swung open. Seconds later, Savannah breezed inside and sauntered over to the bar, barely decent in a tight, revealing outfit.
Will gaped in disbelief. Shock was quickly followed by blinding anger…
CHAPTER 26
Moving toward the bar, Savannah’s hips swayed with a confidence she was far from feeling, but it was all about appearances. She pulled her shoulders back and thrust out her breasts. If she looked like she was meant to be there, people would assume she was. At least, she hoped they would.
Her gaze wandered around the room, searching for Dylan. The place hadn’t yet filled up. She recalled how it had been the last time when she’d danced before the men. They’d stared at her with hungry, desire-filled eyes. Nerves jumped in her belly at the memory.
“You, there!”
The shout came from the di
rection of the bar and cut through the murmur of the crowd. She tensed. It was the bartender. Turning to face him, she kept her eyes lowered and closed the distance between them.
“Take these drinks over to Vince’s table, would you? The boss is having his usual. The beers are for his friends. Got it?”
Savannah’s heart thumped so loudly, she was surprised he couldn’t hear it. She risked a quick glance at the barman and then jerked her head in a sign of acquiescence.
Maranoa was here. She’d been asked to serve him a drink. Panic threatened to overwhelm her.
What was she going to do? She couldn’t risk him recognizing her. Sooner or later he would realize she wasn’t one of his girls and then she’d be in all sorts of trouble.
“Hurry up, girl. I haven’t got all night.”
Fear kept her rooted to the spot. She kept her gaze lowered to the floor and tried to buy time. “Where’s he sitting?”
“He’s over there at the table in the far corner.” She glanced up to see the barman pointing with his chin in the direction of the stage. Her chest tightened until she couldn’t breathe. Her head spun.
She couldn’t do it.
She had to do it. She had no choice.
Already the barman was looking at her strangely. She couldn’t afford to draw any more attention to herself. She had to hope Maranoa wouldn’t look at her. After all, she was just another one of the girls—or so he thought.
With a steadying breath, she lifted the tray and picked her way through the scattered patrons. Lingering gazes from some of the men she passed pressed in upon her. Her nerves ratcheted up another notch.
She did her best to stay focused on Vince’s table. He sat with his back to her. A couple of men in designer suits were seated opposite him. They huddled together, talking intently over the general thrum of conversation and the quiet background music, oblivious to her presence.
Holding the tray with one hand, Savannah distributed the drinks, doing her best to remain aloof from the men. She felt Maranoa’s gaze on her while she set his drink before him.
Despite her desperate, silent pleas that he ignore her, Maranoa gave her a slow and thorough once-over. Conversation at the table ground to a halt.
“Sally, ain’t it?” His tone was rough and uneducated, in sharp contrast to his five thousand dollar suit.
She nodded and kept her gaze lowered.
“How are you doin’ tonight, Sally?” His hand snaked out and moved slowly up her bare thigh. “Been busy?”
Savannah froze in shock, but she forced her brain into action. “Yes. Busy. I go now.”
Without warning, he grabbed her roughly by the chin and forced her to look at him. She winced and swallowed a cry of alarm. Dark malice lit his coal-black eyes. She fought to suppress a shiver.
He indicated the men across from him who watched the exchange in bemused silence. “Show ’em your tits.”
Savannah gasped. Vince’s smile was pure evil.
“B-but, Vince—”
His narrowed gaze glinted with menace. “I said, show my friends your fuckin’ tits.”
Fear like she’d never known paralyzed Savannah’s limbs. She tried to lift her arms, but they refused to move. In panic, she glanced at the men seated with Maranoa, desperately searching for an ally, but was met with half-grins and eyes that were glazed with avid anticipation.
Knowing she couldn’t blow her cover, she forced her hands into action. Grabbing the bottom of her T-shirt, she began to inch it up over her head.
“Vince, it’s good to see you again.”
Savannah froze, the deep, familiar voice halting her actions. Will strode toward them. A tight smile tugged at his lips, but his eyes were chips of jagged blue ice.
“Mind if I join you?” He indicated the empty chair on Maranoa’s left.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the Rutledge pup.” Vince’s face broke into a smile. “I’ve never seen you here before this week and now, you’re here all the time.” His gaze slid slyly over toward Savannah. “I wonder what keeps bringin’ you back?”
“Vince, it’s all you.” Will’s grin was quick and easy. Only Savannah noticed the angry tic at the side of his mouth. “And maybe the girls.” He flicked her a cursory glance.
“I think you’ve already met Sally?” Vince nodded in her direction.
“Yeah.” He gave her another quick once-over. “Sally and I have…met.”
Savannah saw the tension in the hard line of his jaw and knew he was barely containing his fury. She eased away from them and discreetly straightened her T-shirt.
“Going somewhere, Sally?” Will’s mouth twisted into a semblance of a smile. His eyes glinted steel.
She halted, not sure what he wanted of her. She met his gaze bravely, almost wincing at the fury in their depths. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and beg his forgiveness, but both of them were on very dangerous ground. If Maranoa caught even a hint that something was amiss, they’d be in a world of danger.
Pasting a flirtatious smile on her lips, she stepped closer and leaned against Will, rubbing herself against him, while her hand caressed the hard muscles of his chest.
He was casually dressed in a short-sleeved, red polo shirt and a pair of designer jeans. Shiny, black RM Williams boots were on his feet. His dark hair was slightly mussed, as if he’d run his hands through it more than once and he looked for all the world like a man who’d sought out a few hours of relaxation in his club on a Saturday night.
His muscles bunched beneath her fingers. Ignoring his tension, she slid her hand inside the opening of his shirt.
“How about me and you get to know each other again, mister?” Her tone was seductive, as was the look she threw him from underneath her lashes.
Vince watched them, idle curiosity playing over his face. Pressing even closer, she licked the soft lobe of Will’s ear. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
Will’s arm came around her and slapped her on the bottom. She jumped and let out a little yelp, quite sure the amount of force he’d used was no accident.
“Yeah, why not?” His gaze burned into hers a moment or two before he turned back to Maranoa. “Thanks for the freebie last time, Vince. I’m more than happy to pay for it tonight. She wasn’t a bad fuck, after all.”
Vince chuckled, showing vast amounts of perfect, white teeth. “I’m glad I could help you out. We aim to please.”
“That’s why I like to come here, Vince. Your hospitality is second to none.” Leaning in closer, Will lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper and tapped his nose. “Any chance of a bit of nose candy? It’ll really get the party rocking.” He winked.
“I’d love to help you out, but I’m afraid we’re out of that shit. I can probably rustle up a few pills.”
Will answered with a casual shrug. “Nah, I’m good. Pills don’t do it for me. Not like the powder does.”
“Next week, mate. Come back next week and I’ll see to it that you get whatever you need.”
“You’re on.” Will shot him an easy grin. “In the meantime, if you don’t mind, I might take Sally out the back and work up a bit of sweat.”
Vince grinned back at him. “Go your hardest, mate. I’m sure she’ll make it worth your while.”
“Oh, I know she will.” Will’s gaze hardened. He reached for her hand and determinedly dragged her toward the door that led to the bedrooms.
* * *
Will seethed with fury. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so angry. He strode along the dim carpeted corridor, dragging Savannah along behind him. Her sky-high heels and tight leather skirt made it difficult for her to keep up, but right at that moment, he didn’t give a damn. She could twist her ankle, for all he cared. It was probably better than having her neck wrung, which was what he felt like doing.
She’d lied to him. Rage at her deceit washed over him, fueled by the memory of his terror when he’d seen her with Maranoa and his sense of helplessness that he could do nothing that migh
t blow their cover. The intensity of his anger scared him.
His heart pounded so hard it felt like it was going to thump right out of his chest. He forced air into his constricted lungs and fought to regain control over the emotions that threatened to undo him.
When he’d seen Maranoa manhandle her, he’d moved without conscious thought. One moment he was frozen to the spot and the next he was exchanging pleasantries with the brothel owner with his fists clenched at his sides and doing all he could not to drive them into the asshole’s face.
And it was all her fault.
* * *
Savannah’s breath hitched. “Will, please! Slow down, or I’ll twist my ankle.”
“Shut up.” He didn’t even spare her a glance, but continued to drag her along the darkened hall, past a flurry of closed doors until they got to one that stood ajar. Taking care to check that the room was empty, he pulled Savannah in quickly behind him. With a flick of his wrist, he locked the door.
Savannah’s heart pounded. It was déjà vu. Her palms went damp. Will strode to the bed and switched on a lamp. Spinning around, his gaze pinned her where she stood.
“Will, let me explain—”
“Explain?” His voice was a fierce whisper. His cobalt eyes sparked with fury. “Where would you like to begin, Savannah? At the part where you smiled sweetly and told me you’d be staying home tonight? What about where you told me how supportive you were of my job—how much you understood my need to come here tonight, to finish what I’d started. Would that be a better place to start?”
He paced in front of her, his fury rolling off him in almost tangible waves. “I can’t believe I fell for that crap!” He came to an abrupt halt and turned to her. He stared at her with hard eyes. “You had absolutely no intention of staying home tonight, did you?”
“Will, please. I didn’t—”
“Didn’t what?” He interrupted her, his voice harsh. “Didn’t lie to me? Didn’t purposefully deceive me into believing you actually agreed when I explained why I didn’t want you here? Yes or no, Savannah? Did you purposefully set out to deceive me into thinking you were going to do as I’d asked?”
