Against the Night

“It’s just a dance,” she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. “We need this man’s help. I’m going to dance for him and then I’m going to see if I can hire him to help us.”

Babs stood there in her shiny blue wig, the fake hair thick, straight, blunt-cut and just a little longer than her own dark hair. She planted her hands on her hips, a thoughtful look in her eyes.

“Actually, it’s not a bad idea. Nothing’s going to happen. Tate’s got cameras in there. He gets out of line, you just yell, Bo Jing comes in and it’s over.”

“I don’t think he’ll get out of line.” She wasn’t sure why she felt that way, she just did.

“He’s a pretty cool customer, all right. I can’t see him turning into a lust-crazed maniac. On the other hand, sometimes the quiet ones are the ones you have to watch.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” But as she walked into the room and spotted John Riggs in the chair positioned in front of the fake parquet dance floor, her mind went completely blank and she couldn’t think of anything at all.

One of his big hands curled around the beer bottle sitting on the built-in table. He watched every move she made as she approached, but he didn’t get up from his chair.

“Just so you know, this is a first for me, too.”

That surprised her. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Why me?”

He took a sip of his beer. “You intrigue me. I want to take you out. I’m hoping once you realize how harmless I am, you’ll agree.”

He didn’t look harmless. He looked like a big, lazy cat ready to pounce at any moment. She thought of the help she needed to find her sister. In the time she had been in the club, she hadn’t accomplished much. Getting an appointment with that cheese-ball Kyle Bennett was the only real progress she had made.

The music started just then, saving her from having to make some sort of comment. She took a few steps away from him, turned her back and tried to fill her head with the heavy beat of the music, the thud of the bass, the rhythm of the drum, tried to relax.

It was a lot harder to perform in here than onstage, a lot more difficult to block out the image of John Riggs watching her every move when she knew exactly what he was thinking. Knew he was here because he wanted her in his bed.

The music swelled. She let her head fall back, felt her long straight hair brush against her bottom. Instead of blocking him out of her mind, she decided to go with it, set her sexuality free, dance for Johnnie Riggs, a man who attracted her physically as no one ever had.

She slid her hands into her hair and lifted it away from the back of her neck, turned toward him, let the hair slide down around her shoulders. His face was partially hidden in shadow, but she could see his eyes, read his hunger.

She moved toward him, stopped just inches away. Her breath rushed in and out, hot and sharp. She closed her eyes, let the music take over, arched her back, thrust out her breasts, and began to sway. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel him, feel the powerful lust he barely contained. Her body heated, softened, silently responded.

Dear God, she had never felt anything like it. She undulated, lifted her hair, turned and let it glide down her back, then spun away.

A few beats later, she sat down on his lap facing him, reached up and ran her hands down the sides of his face. She could feel the late night stubble along his jaw and it drove her crazy. He was hard beneath her, iron hard inside his jeans, and throbbing. For an instant, she couldn’t breathe.

She forced herself up, forced her body to move away, to fall back into the dance. She spun and shimmied, then returned to his chair. She sat down facing him again, her legs splayed over his. Something shifted inside her, loosened, expanded, and desire took over. When she draped her arms around his neck, the last of her inhibitions slipped away. Amy leaned forward and kissed him, just a soft melding of lips. It was against the rules to kiss a client during a lap dance and yet she did it again, another soft brush of lips that only made her want more.

Every muscle in his body felt rigid beneath her and yet the only thing that moved was the hot mouth gliding over hers, the lips that began to take instead of leisurely accept. She opened her mouth and his tongue slid inside, and the next thing she knew, his arms were around her, crushing her against him, the kiss blazing hot, deep and erotic.

His hand found her breast and the heat of his palm engulfed the fullness. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. A little whimpering sound came from her throat, and in some deep part of her mind, sanity began to return. Johnnie kissed her again, long and hard, and fear hit her. God in heaven, what was she doing?

Trembling all over, Amy broke the kiss. Her heart was pounding with a combination of desire and embarrassment. She had never behaved so insanely. And she had never wanted anything more than Johnnie Riggs.

For an instant their eyes locked, his hot and dark, hers wild and frightened. Then the oddest thing happened. Johnnie came out of the chair with her still in his arms and set her back on her feet.

At the same instant, the music ended, the silence in the room a second splash of cold water hitting her squarely in the face.

“Oh, my God,” she said, backing away from him. “Oh, my God.” She turned, started to run for the door. Johnnie caught her wrist, turning her toward him before she could escape.

“Easy, honey. Just take it easy.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t…I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s all right,” he soothed as if she were a frightened child. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again because she had broken the rules and she didn’t understand how it had happened. He led her back over to the chair he had been sitting in only moments before and urged her down in the seat.

“We need to talk,” he said, “but this isn’t the place. What time do you get off work?”

She started shaking her head.

“Listen to me, Angel. We’ll go out and have some coffee. I promise we won’t do more than talk, all right?”

Her nerves settled a little. This is the opportunity you’ve been wanting, she reminded herself. The chance to tell him about her sister and see if he would be willing to work out some sort of arrangement to help her. “I have to go back to work,” she said lamely.

“When does your shift end?”

“I’m…I’m on the early shift tonight. I get off at eleven.”

He nodded. “Good. That’s good. I’ll be waiting in the parking lot when you come outside.”

She just stared at him. Johnnie caught her chin and tipped it up, forcing her to look at him. She felt like crying and didn’t know why.

“Just coffee. I give you my word.”

Her throat ached. She had no idea why she believed him, but she did. He was a Ranger, wasn’t he? Surely Rangers didn’t lie. “All right.”

He bent and kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you at eleven.” He didn’t say more, just left her there and quietly slipped outside the room.

Babs hurried in after him. Amy was still sitting in the chair. “Jesus, what happened? You look shell-shocked.”

Amy blinked to keep from crying. “I don’t know what happened. I completely lost control.”

“He didn’t…Riggs didn’t…”

“He was a gentleman. I was the one. I still can’t believe it. God, I’m so embarrassed.”

Babs started to smile. “Sounds like it went exactly the way we planned. When are you seeing him again?”

Amy glanced up. “What?”

“You’re seeing him again, right?”

Amy nodded numbly. “Tonight. After my shift. We’re going for coffee. He gave me his word we’d just talk.”

Babs seemed to approve. “Smooth, not too pushy. I think I like this guy.”

“I don’t know what it is, Babs, but there’s something about him.”

Her friend just smiled. “Honey, you can say that again.”

Johnnie slid behind the wheel of the Mustang, tipped his head back against the headrest and just sat there.

“Jesus.” He couldn’t quite catch his breath. He was still so hard he hurt and at the same time he felt completely drained. Watching Angel Fontaine was like waging a war with himself, a war he’d barely won.

He’d almost lost it tonight, but as hot as he’d been and still was, as hot as Angel had been—and man, the lady was on fire—something just wasn’t right. He had to know what it was and he was determined to find out.

He believed she would show up tonight. Angel was even more baffled about what had happened in there than he was. Whoever she was—and he was sure Angel wasn’t her name—she wasn’t used to the kind of desire that had hit them both tonight.

The kind that struck like lightning, turned into a blazing inferno and flat-out sucked you dry. In another minute, he’d have had her on the floor and been inside her. He still didn’t know how he had managed to hang on to that last shred of control.

Maybe it was his Ranger training. Maybe it was seeing the fear in her pretty blue eyes when she had realized how close they both were to losing complete control.

He raked a hand through his short, dark hair. He couldn’t figure her out and that was part of the attraction.

Later tonight, he was going to find out what was going on with Angel Fontaine.

Four

At the end of her shift, Amy changed into a pair of skinny jeans, tucked in a red print shirt, fastened a silver belt around her waist and slid her feet into a pair of red, open-toed high heels. At five foot one, she was shorter than nearly everyone. High heels gave her a psychological boost as well as a physical one and she almost always wore them.

She glanced in the mirror. She had washed her face and removed her stage makeup. She ran a brush through her hair and fluffed her bangs, fastened a small gold hoop in each ear, then applied a little blush, mascara and pale pink lipstick. Nothing too heavy. She wasn’t Angel now and she didn’t want to be.

Amy thought of her performance in the private lap dance room and felt a rush of embarrassment. What in the world had possessed her? During her few relationships, she had never been the aggressor during sex and basically preferred it that way. But tonight… Tonight something insane had come over her. She’d felt bold, empowered. She had practically attacked John Riggs right there in his chair.

Closing her eyes to block out the image, she reached for her small red leather purse and slung the strap over her shoulder. She couldn’t imagine what Riggs must think of her or how she could possibly explain. At the apartment door, she paused. Maybe she should wait, talk to him after a cooling-off period. It would certainly be easier to face him.

On the other hand, maybe this was the perfect opportunity. With a sigh, she pulled open the door. The man was taking her out for coffee, nothing more. He had given her his word and she believed him. This was the chance she needed.

Maybe.

She hadn’t thought past the part about trying to hire him. She would just have to play it by ear.

Babs met her as she crossed the backstage area toward the door leading out to the parking lot.

Babs propped a hand on her hip. “I talked to Tate. He says Riggs is an okay guy.”

Amy just nodded, trying to forget the feel of those hot, possessive lips moving over hers.

“I pressed the boss a little to see what I could find out and Tate told me Riggs is a good investigator but he doesn’t work cheap.”

“I had a feeling.”

“It never hurts to ask, right? You never know till you try.”

Amy drew in a breath. “I don’t know quite what I’m going to say, but I guess I’ll think of something.”

“Are you kidding? After that little performance you gave him, the guy is going to be toast.”

Amy thought of her behavior during the dance and closed her eyes against a blush. “I guess we’ll see.” She waved over her shoulder as she pushed open the door.

“I won’t wait up,” Babs teased with a grin, and Amy’s stomach knotted.

What would Riggs expect?

What would she be willing to do?

With a breath for courage, she stepped out into the parking lot and spotted him behind the wheel of a black Mustang. The car fit him perfectly, dark and powerful, dangerous and predatory. Her insides tightened.

Dear God, how far would she be willing to go to get John Riggs to help her?

Leaning back in the seat, Johnnie spotted Angel the minute she walked out into the night. He knew the instant she saw him. She froze like a deer in the headlights, and Johnnie didn’t hesitate, just shoved open the car door and came out of his seat, started striding toward her.

“I’m glad you came,” he said with a smile meant to put her at ease. “I know a little café just a couple of blocks away. We can get some coffee there.”

She nodded. He could feel the tension thrumming through her, figured if he didn’t get her out of there now, she was going to turn and run.

“It isn’t that far,” he said, setting a hand at her waist and urging her back to his car, not giving her time to change her mind. He led her around to the passenger door and helped her climb in, reached over and pulled the seat belt across her lap and fastened the buckle.

“Thank you.”

Always so polite. Almost prim. Angel Fontaine was about as far from his idea of a stripper as a woman could get. And yet he had seen her up onstage and she was hot.

Maybe that was the appeal. Sweet and hot at the same time—sort of like cinnamon candy.

He chuckled to himself as he slid behind the wheel. If Angel was a piece of candy, he’d be the man to eat her up.

Looking uncomfortable, she shifted in her seat. “About what happened tonight… I want to apologize. I’ve never—”

“It was only a kiss, Angel. Nothing to get upset about.”

She fell silent as he shoved the key into the ignition and the engine roared to life, then started to purr. He drove toward the café, pulled into the lot, which was full, but his luck was holding and a gray-haired couple in an old brown Buick was backing out. He parked in the space left behind, guided Angel inside, and they slid into an empty booth.

The Eatery had a kind of retro decor with pink-and-white vinyl booths and a long lunch counter with a row of round stools. The café had been there for years, had once been called Norm’s but that was a long time ago.

A waitress in a black skirt and white blouse showed up to take their order. Sheila, he recalled, frizzy blond hair and big boobs. He was kind of a regular, though he rotated his meal stops to keep his information channels open. In his line of work, you never knew what rumors might come in handy.

Sheila pulled a pencil from behind her ear. “Hey, handsome, what can I get you?”

He looked across at Angel. Damn she was pretty. More so, he thought, without all that makeup. He tried not to look at her mouth, since now he knew exactly how good she tasted. “What would you like?”

“Just coffee,” she said. “Cream, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“Two coffees,” he said. “One with cream. Thanks, Sheila.”

They made small talk for the short time it took for the coffee to arrive. Angel poured cream into her cup and daintily stirred.

She looked up at him and smiled, but it looked a little forced. “I’m…aahh…glad you asked me to come here.”

“Oh, yeah?” Here we go, he thought. He’d known something was off. He had a hunch he was about to find out what it was.

“The thing is, I heard you were a private investigator.”

“Of sorts.” He took a drink from the heavy white china mug in front of him, set it back down on the Formica-topped table. “That why you agreed to the dance? You wanted to talk to me about business?”

Soft color washed into her cheeks. “That was part of it. I really don’t…don’t know exactly what happened in there. I just…I guess I got carried away.”

Amen to that. “So what did you want to talk to me about?”

“I…umm…want to hire you.”

“You in some kind of trouble?”

Her eyes rounded. “Me? No! Of course not.”

“Of course not,” he said with a hint of sarcasm she seemed to miss.

“It’s my sister. Her name is Rachael.”

“Then it’s Rachael who’s in trouble.”

“I don’t know. A little over six weeks ago, Rachael disappeared. I talked to the police, of course. Babs says they haven’t tried very hard…you know…because she’s an exotic dancer.”

He leaned back in his chair, trying not to be disappointed that her real interest came in wanting something from him. “So you want to hire me to find her. Is that it?”

“Not exactly. I want to hire you to help me find her. I could do some of the work, and that way it wouldn’t cost as much.”

“Okay, I get it. You want to hire me but you don’t have any money.”

She sat up straighter in her seat. “Well, I have a little. Some savings from my job back home, but I’ve gone through a lot of it for my plane ticket and phone calls. I could borrow some, maybe a couple thousand. I get the feeling you don’t come cheap.”

She was right. He charged up to a grand a day, plus expenses. She looked across the booth at him, bit her plump bottom lip, and heat throbbed low in his groin.

Her fingers tightened around the handle of her coffee mug and the skin over her knuckles turned bone-white. “I thought…you seem to be attracted to me. I thought maybe we could…” She swallowed. “Maybe we could…you know…work something out.”

A jolt of anger slipped through him. It began to fade when he noticed her face had turned as pale as the hand that gripped the mug. He hadn’t pegged her for a prostitute. He looked at her and he didn’t buy it now.

Still, he could be wrong.

He stood up from the pink vinyl bench across from her. She had barely touched her coffee. He tossed down a five and a couple of ones, more than enough for the coffee and a tip, and hauled her to her feet.

“Let’s get out of here.” Angel didn’t protest when he caught her hand and led her toward the door, didn’t say a word as he guided her out of the coffee shop back to his car. But as she slid into the seat and fumbled to fasten her seat belt, he saw that she was trembling.

Johnnie fired up the powerful engine, slipped the car into gear and pulled out onto the busy street. It didn’t take long to drive the winding road up the hill above Sunset to the guesthouse on the estate that was his home. He used the remote to open the gate then turned into the long narrow driveway, pulled into the guesthouse garage and parked next to his Harley. Up the drive a little farther, the main house, a big white modern structure, edged out over the hill.

Angel flashed a look at the motorcycle as he helped her out, but she made no comment, just let him guide her up on the porch, waited while he unlocked the door, then walked past him into the entry. The lights of Los Angeles glittered in front of them through the wall of windows in the living room, a view that never failed to impress.

She stared in that direction. “It’s beautiful.”

He tossed his keys into the glass dish on the table in the entry. “I got lucky. I did some work for the lady who owns the estate. She’s older, feels safer having someone living in the guesthouse.” Eleanor Stiles was not only his landlady but also a very close friend. She was seventy and smart as a whip.

“Someone who was once an Army Ranger?”

He shrugged. “I suppose. My office is downstairs. I do most of my work out of the house.”

She looked calmer now, and yet he could feel her underlying tension.

“How about a drink?” he asked. “Maybe a glass of wine or something?”

He sensed her relief. “Wine sounds good.”

“White or red?”

“White…if you happen to have it open.”

The most polite hooker he’d ever met.

He opened the little fridge underneath the counter of the wet bar, took out an open bottle of chardonnay and poured her a glass, pulled out a Bud for himself and twisted off the cap. He carried the wine back to Angel, who stood in front of the window, staring out at the city lights.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it? The lights go on forever.”

“I take it you aren’t from L.A.”

She shook her head. “Michigan.”

“Detroit?”

She steadied the glass, took a sip of wine. “Grand Rapids.”

Too old to be a runaway, but she was obviously new to the city. “So you came here to find your sister.”

She looked up at him with those big blue eyes. “Yes.”

Johnnie forced himself to concentrate. “Have you reported her disappearance to the cops?”

“I didn’t, but Rachael’s friend Barbara McClure called the police the day after she disappeared. They haven’t found her or even a clue as to what happened to her. I’m not sure they’re even still looking.”

He took a drink of his beer, set it down on a nearby table. Angel took a large, nervous swallow of her wine as he moved closer. Reaching out, he took the glass from her hand and set it down on the table next to his beer.

“So now you want to hire me to help you find her.”

“Y-yes…”

“And in exchange you’re willing to make a trade.”

She swallowed, nodded.

“I like this idea, Angel. I like it a helluva lot.” Then he hauled her into his arms, bent his head and very thoroughly kissed her.

Amy gripped Johnnie’s powerful shoulders and just hung on, reeling at the powerful jolt of desire that shook her. Hot lips, softer than they looked, moved over hers, nibbled the corners of her mouth. He deepened the kiss, coaxed her lips apart and his tongue slid inside.

Heat engulfed her; need curled in her belly. She wanted to have his hands on her, wanted him to touch her. She wanted him to make love to her. She had never felt this way before, never experienced this intense, mindless hunger. She wanted to give in to it, let him have what he wanted.

What she also wanted.

She pressed herself more firmly against him, felt the heavy weight of his erection. He was going to help her. In return, she was paying him with her body. It didn’t matter that she was selling herself like…like a prostitute, behaving like…like a whore.

Her throat closed up. A little sob got caught there. She felt his mouth against the side of her neck, trailing scorching kisses along her throat, and her eyes stung. His fingers worked the buttons on her blouse and tears welled.

She wasn’t a whore. She didn’t sell herself to strangers.

What about Rachael? What if she isn’t dead? The awful thought both she and Babs secretly believed. What if she’s in terrible trouble and there is no one to help her?

He kissed her again, long and deep, but the desire was fading, replaced by a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. The tears in her eyes slipped onto her cheeks.

Johnnie must have felt the wetness because he broke off the kiss and jerked away. “All right, that’s it!”

Hard fingers dug into her shoulders. Her head came up as he backed her against the wall and she stared into his dark, angry face.

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded. “And don’t even think of telling me your name is Angel Fontaine.”

She shook her head, misery sweeping over her. She had failed Rachael, failed herself.

“I’m so s-sorry. I thought…thought I could do it. I didn’t mean to lead you on, I just…” Fresh tears welled and the sob locked in her throat finally escaped.

Johnnie blew out a breath and eased her back into his arms. “It’s all right. I had a feeling this wasn’t going to work.” He held her a moment, giving her time to compose herself, then moved away.

“I was going to tell you my name,” she said, brushing away a drop of wetness with the tip of her finger. “I didn’t mean to deceive you. I just…”

“You just what?”

“There’s something about you… I don’t know, I just… When I get around you, I can’t seem to think straight.”