“You need to focus your energies.”
“Yes, I know!”
“Then what's wrong? Are you worried about tonight? It's not too late to call it off.”
“It's not tonight, not exactly.” Lynn set her jaw so that she wouldn't say more, then wondered why she should hold back her resentment. “You really want to know what's wrong? It's you!” She lowered her voice lest anyone else in the gym hear. “I don't like being manipulated.”
“I don't get it.”
Irritated by his apparent confusion, she said, “I'm referring to the way you got me to agree not to invite Johnny Rincon.”
“I simply appealed to your good sense.”
“You appealed to a lot more than that.” Like her heart. “You seduced me into agreeing.”
His lips curved into a slow grin. “Trust me, Lynn, if I had seduced you, I would definitely remember that.”
Not amused, she shoved by him, heading for the locker room, muttering, “This is no joke.”
“Lynn, wait.”
She kept going but he caught up to her in the hallway.
“Wait,” he repeated.
She whirled around to face him. “Why? So you can tell me I'm wrong?”
“So I can apologize. I didn't think of what happened between us that way. It was in the moment—a very wonderful moment, by the way—and I was desperate to convince you to stay away from Johnny. I was dead serious about wanting to keep you safe.”
“You can't live my life for me.”
“I'm not trying to. You must see that your world view of man-woman relationships is a little skewed, not without reason, I admit. But you're also dealing with me, Lynn, with someone who cares about you.”
“My father always said he cared about my mother and Nathan said he cared about Dani.”
“And I'm neither of those men. I care about you because you're strong and confident. Well, most of the time. And because you care about others. You fight the good fight, because it's the right thing to do. I've always been very big on doing the right thing,” he told her.
“I'm an adult. I can make my own decisions.”
“I don't want to control you, but relationships and the ways people deal with one another get complicated sometimes. If you believe anything, then believe I simply want to make sure nothing more happens to you. And that the control thing is your issue, not mine.”
Practically the same thing Nathan had said to her.
Lynn put a hand to her face and took a deep breath. Had history made her misjudge him the night before? Very possibly. He certainly seemed sincere now. She made an instant decision to let it go, to stop viewing Blade's every move with suspicion.
Or at least she would try.
“You're right,” she admitted, looking him square in the eye. “And I'm the one who should be sorry.”
“Truce?”
“Truce.”
His smile was slow and sweet and Lynn felt a hard thunk square in the region of her chest.
“Then let's get back in the gym,” Blade said, “and let me teach you some new moves.”
***
New moves in her growing repertoire or not, Lynn couldn't deny the case of nerves that cursed her as she readied herself prior to Club Undercover's opening that night.
The big night. This was it. This was the moment to face the man who'd held her prisoner and help put him behind bars. She shivered in anticipation... and dread.
Maria Savage wouldn't arrive for another hour, but her entourage had already taken over the employee lounge. The kitchen and wait staffs were scurrying around in a tizzy. And from what she'd been told, customers were already four deep up the stairs and along the sidewalk halfway to the corner.
Lynn couldn't wear her usual outfit since the waitresses in the VIP section wore simply cut sequined dresses. Rummaging through the closet, she found a deep blue number that fit her like a second skin... which presented a slight problem in that she was to be wired for sound.
To that end, she entered Gideon's office where Cass and Logan awaited her. The mike, wire and transmitter were already laid out on the desk. She knew Logan would set up a recording device in the office behind the upstairs bar.
“Tuck the wire under a breast and run it down your side,” the security chief said dispassionately. “It'll be less noticeable that way. We'll attach the transmitter to your thigh with an adjustable strap.”
When he showed it to her, it reminded Lynn of the knife holster Blade wore strapped to his calf.
What she mumbled was “Kind of like a garter.”
No one laughed. Everyone was tense tonight.
Picking up the wire, Cass offered, “I'll help you,” and Logan thoughtfully turned his back on them.
Lynn didn't see how this hot little number she was wearing was going to hide the bulge of a transmitter, not even a small, flat one. But she did as he ordered, wiggling the wire down her side until Cass could reach up and catch the end and connect it to the small black box. After which, Cass taped the wire in several strategic places on her body so that it wouldn't shift and betray her.
Then came the transmitter. The best place to hide it would be between her thighs, of course, but the bulge would drive anyone who needed to walk nuts. And she'd be doing a lot of that tonight while serving drinks and food. Once her “garter” was in place, Lynn adjusted the box forward slightly, tolerable enough so the other thigh wouldn't chafe and her panty hose wouldn't run.
When they finished, both wire and box seemed to be neatly camouflaged, as was the tiny mike clinging to the inside of her halter top.
By this time, Gideon and Blade had joined them.
“Will I do?” she asked, turning slowly.
No mirror in here, so she had to rely on them. She looked for their approval, and the spark in Blade's gaze caught her off-guard, so that she nearly stumbled over her own feet.
Gideon diffused the moment. “Good job. No one will be the wiser.”
She blinked. “Great.”
Logan opened a file folder. “I picked up photos of both Churchill and Cooper from
the internet. Keep an eye out for these two.”
He passed out prints of both.
Just looking at them, Lynn had to admit Churchill appeared nearly as unpleasant as he'd been the morning before, but certainly not dangerous. Decked out in his chef's outfit, Cooper underwhelmed her. Or maybe she was making the mistake of believing that a man who cooked wouldn't be violent. She had to keep in mind he used sharp knives and other dangerous tools for a living.
Still, she had a hard time believing that either of these men were responsible for her pain.
Gideon went over the plan. “I'll stay in the VIP area all night to keep an eye on everything up there. Logan will be with me, but if one of the suspects gets up and leaves his table, Logan will follow to see what he's up to. Blade, you'll oversee the downstairs, and Cass, once you introduce Maria, you'll be Blade's eyes tonight.”
Lynn knew Blade wasn't happy—he'd been hoping to work the upstairs bar and therefore be able to watch over her himself—but he didn't protest. They would all be wired for sound with intercom headsets.
“Ladies and gents, are we ready to rock and roll?” Gideon asked.
“Ready,” came a chorus of agreement.
“Twenty minutes until show time,” Cass said.
Twenty minutes to kill before the club doors opened and she had to put herself out there, a willing target to whomever had abducted her exactly one week before, Lynn realized.
She and Cass made a stop at the ladies' lounge. Lynn checked herself over in the mirror. Tonight she was a study in deep blue—hair, lips, nails and tinted glasses all added to the dress.
Was the disguise enough to protect her?
As if Cass could read her mind, she said, “He won't recognize you.”
Not that it took psychic ability for anyone to figure out how spooked she was, Lynn thought.
“I'll be fine,” she said, more to herself
than the other woman. “I'll be fine.”
“How's the memory?”
“Still fractured.”
“Have you given hypnosis any more thought?”
She'd given it lots of thought but had come to no decision. “Maybe as a last resort.”
“You can trust me.”
“I do.” Lynn gave her a quick hug. “Thanks.”
“Just breathe, okay?” Cass gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “It'll be all right.”
“One of your visions?”
The redhead grinned and shook her head. “It's just that we're all behind you.”
A fact that Lynn appreciated.
Ten minutes to go. Unable to stand the wait, she thought she needed to keep busy, to keep her mind occupied. But everything was set up. All she had to do was walk into the club and start working.
Not having checked her messages earlier, she decided to do so now. Thankfully, no new crisis had come up at the law firm. No doubt the partners were worried about her billing hours, because one of the paralegals had left a message saying that everyone wanted to know when she planned on returning.
“I wish I knew, folks, I wish I knew.”
Then she called home. She had a single message, recorded earlier that day. Her grip tightened on the receiver as the familiar voice hissed at her.
“You think you're so clever, Evelyn, hiding out who knows where.”
The urgent whisper got to her, made her stomach knot and the fine hairs at the back of her neck stand at attention.
“I've made it my business to find out... to find you. That's all I've been thinking about.”
“Then do it, let's get it over.” Only this time, she would be prepared.
“You've become my obsession, Evelyn. You'll never be free of me. Not while you're alive.” He laughed. “Until we meet again...”
The message ended on more of his evil laugh, and when Lynn remembered to breathe, it came out in a gasp.
Her first thought was to tell Blade, but by the time she walked into the downstairs foyer, it was into a crush of customers waiting to gain entrance into the club. She couldn't get near the cave-like entryway or the hostess Mags and she couldn't get the eye of the two bouncers who were keeping people in line.
She tried fighting the throng and for her trouble got an elbow in her side and angry patron yelling, “Hey, wait your turn!”
Giving up, she took the stairs to get over to the street-level entrance. The sun might be down, but it was summer and therefore still light, so she kept her face averted from the VIP crowd, which was modest compared to the hordes heading downstairs. No sense in taking any chances.
Six-five, head shaved, coffee skin glowing with the humidity, the bouncer named Par-Tee was a force to be reckoned with. No one who didn't belong in VIP seating got past him.
“Melinda, you gotta problem, baby?” Par-Tee asked.
Starting at the use of her still unfamiliar fake name, Lynn said, “I waited too long, then couldn't get through the crowd downstairs.”
He unhooked the rope and let her into his space, then opened the street level door for her.
“Hey, if you're going to let the tootsie in, then open the doors to everyone!”
Responding to the familiar voice, Lynn couldn't help herself. Her pulse jumped when she glanced back and got a glimpse of Victor Churchill, a very young, very thin and striking brunette on his arm.
Lynn slipped inside and hurried to her station where she checked herself in on the computer she'd use to place her customer's orders.
And then she prayed that Victor Churchill hadn't gotten a good look at her face.
***
Tonight would be the night.
He had to give her credit. She might have fooled him if he hadn't seen her when she'd gone back to her office. But he had her now. His excitement had escalated as he'd watched her scurry into the building like some scared rat.
He laughed to himself. How appropriate an analogy. A rat. Vermin. That's what she was.
Now if only he had some poison.
No, that would be too easy. Then the game would be over too quickly. She would be freed of pain and he wanted her to suffer even as she'd made him suffer.
He knew, though, the only way he could do that was if she cared enough to feel gut-shot with loss if something she cared about was taken from her.
But he doubted that she cared about anything or anyone more than her high-handed opinions.
She was a cold bitch.
Maybe he would see if he could warm her up before he killed her.
***
Still worrying that Churchill might have seen her, Lynn crossed to his table with a sense of trepidation that she couldn't deny. He had the brunette and the two other couples he'd brought centered on him—older men, probably business associates, and younger, more attractive women, probably trophy dates the men's wives didn't know about.
For a moment, Lynn watched Churchill work the small crowd. He was telling a long-winded story and his companions were into it. Deciding the businessman was already focused elsewhere and would hardly notice her, she made her approach.
“May I take your drink order?” she asked in a light, cheery voice unlike her own.
“Your best champagne all around.” Churchill made a magnanimous gesture, as if he were paying for everything out of his own pocket.
“And have you had time to look at the menu?”
“I can't eat anything,” the brunette said petulantly. “I have an important shoot next week. The camera puts ten pounds on a person, you know.”
A model. Lynn thought the young woman could use ten pounds for real, but didn't comment. Her purpose was to get Churchill to talk.
Leaning in closer to him—figuring if she gave him a little cleavage he would speak right into the mike—she asked, “Appetizers?”
“I'll take you, honey,” he said, looking straight into her eyes.
Lynn felt the blood drain out of her face. He wasn't supposed to do that. Wasn't supposed to look directly at her as if he were studying her features. But if he recognized her, he wasn't registering the fact.
Hardly able to speak, she asked, “How about bruschetta?”
“How about something more tender?”
Now he was staring at her breasts.
“We have a shrimp appetizer with goat cheese,” she said sweetly, thinking he was the old goat, whether or not he was innocent in other areas.
“I guess that'll have to do.”
He laughed heartily and looked around at his compatriots. The women were smiling tightly, while the men seemed to be trying to keep their thoughts from showing.
And before she could get away, Lynn felt Churchill's hand on her butt. He gave her firm flesh a quick squeeze.
“Give me good service, honey, and I'll give you what you need.”
The only reason Lynn didn't grab his hand and break it the way Blade had demonstrated was because then the game would be over. She wished she knew if the bastard was guilty or just an ignorant boor. Or maybe both.
In the interest of the night's plan, she forced a stupid grin to her lips, backed off without telling him what she thought and escaped to her station. As she was angrily punching the order in, Gideon came up behind her.
“You have something against computers?”
“Against Churchill. Got him!” she said triumphantly, hitting the shrimp appetizer selection. “Now someone else can have him.”
Though she knew that really wasn't an option at the moment, since she'd replaced one of the other waitresses for the evening.
“Cooper's a no-show, huh?” Gideon commented.
She glanced over to the vacant table. “I guess a concert and free drink and food isn't enough to lure a chef away from his Friday night specials.”
“I don't know about that. I called the restaurant. Guess who took sick tonight?”
Her eyes widened. “Then Cooper will be here.”
Though when? she wondered. The concert
would start soon. The place was packed... all but for that single empty table now mocking her.
***
Blade kept himself busy between mixing drinks and worrying. Lynn would be all right up there, he told himself. Between Gideon and Logan, no one would get to her.
Drink orders slowed down during the first act of the performance. The very talented Maria Savage held the audience in thrall, giving him the opportunity to take more than a cursory look around for the first time that evening.
His gaze went straight up the several levels of seating to the VIP area, which was akin to box seats, where everyone had a front row view almost directly over the stage. He hadn't seen Lynn for a while now. Blade couldn't help but wonder if she'd gotten to Churchill and Cooper yet.
Oddly enough, one table sat empty.
He let his gaze drift further and then froze when he saw the man wearing sunglasses at the furthest table.
What the hell!
He checked his intercom. Only Team Undercover and Lynn were supposed to be on channel 3.
“Mayday,” he said softly. “Lynn, come in.” When she didn't, he cursed softly and left the bar to his assistant. “Lynn!”
“What's wrong?” Gideon asked.
“Over at the far north end.” Blade's gaze pinned the man sitting there as he headed for the stairs.
“Who is he?”
“Johnny Rincon.”
Chapter Thirteen
Lynn didn't have a clue that Blade had come up to the VIP area until he was breathing down her neck.
“Why aren't you wearing your headset?” he demanded in a low tone right next to her ear.
She gaped at his scowling face and touched her head as if expecting to feel it there. “I guess I forgot.”
“Like you forgot to tell me you'd messengered the tickets to Johnny?”
“What? No!”
“Then why is he here?”
“Where?” she gasped.
Blade indicated the table in the corner.
Lynn looked past him at the man wearing sunglasses who sat alone. Not knowing how she could have missed him—maybe her aggravation with Churchill had kept her stewing blindly—she realized how dangerous one moment's inattention on her part could be.
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