Deadly Dancing Page 13

  He whimpered as he made his way to the door. “You could have told me that before I sat in the bathroom like this,” he said as he walked out. He held his arms out, afraid to touch himself.

  “Emmy, can you take all the glass vases and put them at the front door for Kirby to pick up? The staff can have the leftover flowers. Brett, help me with the linens. We have to bag them and haul them to the back door.”

  Brett and I stuffed the bags full of linens and heaved them to the back door. It was nice to work with him. He did everything so effortlessly and never broke a sweat. I, on the other hand, looked like I had barely escaped a hurricane. I was damp with perspiration.

  Brett picked up a leftover daisy and tucked it into my cleavage. “For later,” he said.

  * * *

  On our way out of the conference center, I turned to Emmy. “How are the lockets coming along? Should I pick them up and bring them home to work on?”

  “There are a lot left. I can work on some tomorrow before the dinner, but I won’t be able to finish them all.”

  “I’ll go pick them up and work on them tonight at home.”

  “No, you won’t,” Brett interrupted.

  “Why?”

  “I have to work tonight and you’re coming with me.”

  “I’m not going to Longhorn’s,” I said, my hands on my hips.

  “Yes, you are.”

  Emmy sidestepped us, turning to leave. “I’ll let you guys work this out,” she said and fled.

  I tapped my foot on the ground. I didn’t want to see him dance again. I didn’t want to see women shoving money into his shiny thong.

  “Don’t pout,” he said softly, bringing me in for a hug.

  “I’m not pouting,” I said. “I don’t see why I have to go with you. What if I go to someone else’s house?”

  “No, you’re staying with me so I can keep an eye on you,” he said. “You don’t want to see me dance, do you?”

  “No,” I admitted.

  He didn’t say anything.

  “I can’t explain it,” I said, searching for the right words.

  “You don’t have to.”

  I crawled into my car and he closed the door for me. I should have at least tried to explain. Ugh, who am I kidding? I would have sounded like an idiot. Brett, I can’t watch you dance because I’d attack you and have mad, passionate sex with you on the catwalk. Plus, I’d beat the hell out of any woman who even came near you with money. Sure, that would sound great! I hit my head on the steering wheel. “Idiot!”

  Brett knocked on my window.

  I jumped. “Shit!” I screamed, grabbing my heart. I rolled down the window.

  “Are you okay? You seem a little jumpy?” he asked with a smile only a devil could appreciate.

  “What do you want?”

  “Are you heading over to work to pick up the lockets?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll follow you. Unless you want to drive together and then we can pick up your car later.”

  “You drive and then bring me back. I’m exhausted.”

  I locked my car and melted into Brett’s car. The seat gave me a hug like an old friend. I sighed.

  Brett glanced quizzically at me.

  “I like these seats,” I explained. “They hug like you were meant to sit here.”

  “That seat was always meant for you,” he said.

  I really didn’t know what to make out of that statement, so I left it alone. But it left me with a warm feeling.

  “Jocelyn won’t be there,” I said as he drove to the office.

  “It wouldn’t matter either way because she’ll be at Longhorn’s tonight.”

  “Does she go there often?”

  “She’s a regular.”

  “She told me to have you work every event.”

  “I’m following you. Where you go, I go.”

  Brett pulled up alongside the office door. The office was dark. I grabbed my keys out of my purse. Brett hopped out of the car and followed me inside. It only took me a moment to find the lockets while avoiding looking at the bullet holes that littered the wall. I grabbed the box and we left, locking the door behind us. I didn’t want to stay there any longer than I had to.

  Brett drove back to the conference center.

  “I was just going to go home now,” I told Brett. “I can work on the lockets there.”

  “You have a couple of hours and then we need to head to Longhorn’s.”

  I nodded. It was enough time for a shower and to finish a handful of lockets.

  “What was that thing Jesse gave you?” I asked Brett.

  “I’ll show it to you when we get home.”

  “Why can’t you just tell me?”

  “Ordinarily, I’d tell you, but I want to see if you can spot Fenwig in it.”

  “In it? In what?”

  Brett didn’t say anything.

  “Oh, God. It’s a sex video, isn’t it?”

  Brett’s lips curved slightly.

  “I don’t want to watch it.”

  “You don’t have to watch the whole thing. Just watch one part and tell me if you see what I see.”

  I groaned.

  Brett’s expression changed. He looked mad.

  “Fine, I’ll watch the stupid thing,” I said to make him happy.

  “It’s not that. It’s your car.”

  Chapter 11

  I turned to look at my car. It was battered by what could only be the result of a sledgehammer. Every window was completely broken out, lights were shattered, the bumper hung by a thread, and every side was riddled with dents.

  “My poor car! The Hammer’s gone mental!”

  “She’s been crazy for a long time.”

  “Who is she? How do you really know it’s a she?”

  “I still don’t know who she is, but I know it’s a she. She frequents male strip clubs and targets a dancer. She never gets involved with or hurts the target. She only goes after a woman who gets too close or involved with the target.”

  “Eve,” I said.

  Brett nodded. “Eve started dating a stripper in Texas. He was an okay guy, but I could never see what she was doing with him. She started getting threats, and you know the rest.”

  I sat quietly and held his hand. I’d be scared out of my mind if I was in this alone. Had he known how much danger Eve had been in?

  “I tried to protect her, but I didn’t know who I was protecting her from,” he explained, reading my mind. “She was the Hammer’s first victim. I quit my job because they wouldn’t let me take the case. They said I was too close to it. I’ve been following the Hammer, always a step behind until now.”

  I was at a loss for words.

  Brett angled in his seat to look at me. “I’m so sorry I got you involved. I didn’t know I had become the target when I met you. It was only after she threatened that I realized it. By then it was too late.”

  “I’m glad you’re the target,” I told him, trying for a little bravery on my part. “If it was anyone else, someone would be dead by now.”

  He kissed the palm of my hand and drove me home.

  * * *

  Brett made his way into the house first to make sure it was safe.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” I told him when he returned, adding “alone.”

  He plopped down on my couch with a wounded expression.

  I showered quickly and hurried into my bedroom with a towel wrapped around me, searching for something to wear for tonight. I may as well change into it now since I only had a couple of hours before we had to leave. I searched my drawers and my closet. Both were sparse. I stared and stared into the closet but nothing happened; no outfit jumped out.

  Brett knocked on the door and peered in. “You were taking so long I thought I should check.”

  “You just wanted to see if you could catch me off guard and get a nudie peek.”

  He smiled. “No harm in a little nudity.”

  “I’m staring into my c
loset hoping something will appear for me to wear,” I said.

  He peeked into my closet. “I know girls keep more clothes than this in their closets. Where’s the rest?”

  “In the basement next to the washing machine.”

  “Did you ever think about washing them?”

  “Smart ass, of course I’ve thought about washing them. The machines aren’t hooked up. I’ve been meaning to read the manual, but, hell,” I huffed, “I don’t want to read the stupid manual.”

  “I’ll pick out an outfit for you,” he said.

  “No, you won’t.”

  “Don’t trust me?”

  “Not to dress me.”

  “What if I hook up your washer and dryer, then can I pick out an outfit?”

  I eyed him. “Deal, but don’t dress me like a floozy.”

  “I’ll dress you anyway I want to. Besides, I don’t have much to choose from.”

  I perched on my bed while he looked through my clothes. He pulled out low-riding jeans and a scoop-neck T-shirt that was a size or two too small. “Sexy” was scrawled across the chest in bright-pink glitter. I don’t know why I’d bought that shirt. I’ve never even worn it. It just hangs in my closet, occupying a hanger. I prayed my sorry excuse for abs were up to the challenge.

  “I’ll see you downstairs,” Brett said, leaving me to change.

  I pulled the shirt on. “Sexy” was stretched to maximum capacity. Cleavage poked out of the scoop neck. I was surprised the glitter wasn’t sprinkling off like fairy dust.

  I had to jump up and down to pull on the jeans and then lie down on the bed to zip them.

  I stood up and looked in the mirror. There was nearly two inches of belly showing. No muffin top or jigglies that I could see; nothing rock hard either. I could get away with the outfit, but I’d have to work harder on other places to draw attention away . . . if that was even possible.

  I wrapped my hair in curlers and threw on a robe. I wasn’t about to let Brett see the outfit until I had the rest of me in order.

  When I stepped off the last stair and into the living room, Brett glanced up to see me in an old fluffy blue robe.

  “I’ll take it off before we leave and I’m all pretty,” I said.

  “It’ll be worth the wait.”

  I let myself drop ungracefully to the floor. The jeans wouldn’t allow me to bend. Leaning back, I popped open the top button. Brett raised his eyebrow.

  “Don’t judge,” I said.

  The box of lockets sat on the floor next to me. I grabbed the scissors and started cutting out photos, slipping them into the lockets.

  “Are you ready for the video?” Brett asked.

  “Ugh, no! I’ll never be ready for that. But go ahead and get it over with.”

  Brett opened my laptop and brought out a memory card. He inserted it into the computer and scrolled through the files until he found the right one.

  I leaned back and watched Karina and Jesse stumble into a bedroom, groping and kissing each other. It was a slobbery affair, based on the smacks and slurping heard in the audio. Based on the perspective, the camera must have been hidden. Did Jesse even know he was being filmed?

  The video showed them kiss, fall to the bed, and then . . . I closed my eyes.

  “Open your eyes,” Brett said.

  “I don’t want to see this. They’re like animals,” I said.

  “It’s not that bad.”

  I peeked through my fingers. They were completely naked and very vocal.

  “Why did Jesse give this to you?” I asked.

  “There,” he said, pausing the video. “Do you see in the mirror?”

  It was a grainy shot of a man hiding in the closet with a camera.

  “Is that . . . Fenwig?”

  “I think so,” he said and pushed play. “Now watch this.”

  The man in the closet accidentally made a noise and Jesse heard it. His eyes shot to the closet.

  “Jesse, it’s nothing. Come back to bed,” Karina urged.

  Jesse ignored her and leapt from the bed. He threw open the closet door, giving us a very close view of his dingdong.

  “Holy moly!” I exclaimed.

  Brett shook his head and sighed.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Jesse yelled.

  He made a grab for the camera. It was hard to see what was happening after that. A lot of shouting, camera tossing, and then the video ended.

  Brett closed the laptop. “I think Fenwig and his wife are into making amateur porn.”

  “Wouldn’t that be bad for Fenwig’s career?”

  “It could be for their personal collection. Some people get off on it.”

  “But why kill Jesse?”

  “Jesse found out and took the camera. Fenwig would’ve wanted to shut Jesse up before the police and news got involved. Fenwig had other videos saved on the memory card, too.”

  “I don’t have to watch them, do I?”

  “No, you’ve had enough for one night.”

  “Why don’t you just give him back the memory card?”

  “It’s my only bargaining chip. If he’s the one who killed Jesse, then why should he keep you or me around?”

  I nodded. It made sense in a sick sort of way.

  “Do you think Jesse would’ve tried to blackmail Fenwig?”

  “Jesse didn’t have a very firm grasp on moral codes. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  I fumbled with another locket. “You were a cop before?”

  “Yes, in Houston.”

  “Cops can’t afford Vipers,” I told him.

  “I’m not a cop anymore.”

  “Dancers can’t afford Vipers,” I reworded.

  “Some can. Just trust me,” he said.

  Brett stood, kissed me on the head, and disappeared into the kitchen.

  I heard him fumbling through my cupboards and refrigerator. He walked back out with his hands on his hips.

  “Do you know you have absolutely nothing to eat here?”

  I nodded. “I just got paid. I didn’t have any money for food.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Tell you what? I just met you, and,” I waved my hand, “I go through this all the time before payday. I just think of it as my mandatory diet time. If I actually had money, I wouldn’t be able to pry on these jeans.”

  “Finish getting ready,” he said. “We’ll eat dinner before Longhorn’s.”

  “I’m not going to dinner in this outfit. That wasn’t part of the deal.”

  Brett picked me up off the floor, placing me on the first step of the stairway. “Go and get dressed in anything you want before both of us starve.”

  I smiled and ran up the stairs before he could change his mind. I was hungry. I looked in my closet. The problem was this was my last outfit. The rest of the clothes were heavy winter outfits I’d swelter in.

  I shed the robe and looked at my tiny T-shirt and jeans. This will have to do. Suck it up and deal with it. It may be fun to pretend I’m something I’m not . . . like Halloween in June.

  I used a light touch with most of my makeup, adding a little extra mascara and bright-red lipstick. I unwrapped the curlers from my hair. Big, bouncy curls fell around my shoulders. Arranging the curls without them going limp was a challenge. I had to use a little hair spray, otherwise my curls would be gone within an hour.

  Shoes . . . I searched my shoe selection. I may as well finish off the hot-mama look with a pair of four-inch heels. I sat on the bed to slip them onto my feet. I didn’t have to stand a lot tonight, so I should be okay.

  I stood and looked at the final result. I barely recognized myself. Hopefully, no one else would either.

  I carefully walked downstairs in my lethal shoes and stepped into the living room. I posed with my arm on the doorframe and my other hand my hip. I didn’t feel sexy but I could at least pretend.

  Brett was lounging on the couch, flipping through the television guide. He turned to look at me and dropped the remote
. His eyes darkened with a glint of wickedness.

  “Come here,” he said.

  “No, I don’t like that look in your eyes. You’ll mess me up, and then you won’t get dinner because I’ll have to start all over.”

  He rose, taking a few steps toward me. I was closer to his height with my heels. Brett pulled me in, kissing me hard.

  “I can’t take much more of this, Mars. You’re driving me to the brink of insanity.” Brett’s hands roamed.

  “I guess that means you like it,” I said, cleaning the lipstick off his lips.

  “I do.” He kissed me again. “Let’s skip dinner. You’ll be enough to satisfy any hunger I have and more.” He bit my bottom lip playfully. “Plus, I don’t want any other guys to look at you.”

  “I’m hungry,” I said, pushing past him. I threw my purse over my shoulder, fixed my lipstick in the mirror by the door, and strutted out.

  Mrs. Janowski was rocking in her chair on her porch. A large glass of iced tea was at her side.

  “Mars, is that you?” she hollered.

  “Yes, it’s me,” I hollered back.

  “Hot damn!” she exclaimed, slapping her thigh. “And here I thought you needed more spunk.”

  “If she gets any more spunk, I’ll need an ambulance,” Brett called to Mrs. Janowski.

  She chuckled.

  “Where are we going?” I asked once we were in the car.

  He peered down at my shirt. “Well, I can’t take you anywhere respectable.”

  “There’s a bar and grill close to Longhorn’s. It looks like a hole in the wall, but I heard the food is good and greasy.”

  “I’ve been there,” he said. “We’ll fit in.”

  “Of course you’ve been there.”

  “What does that mean?”

  I arched my eyebrow and he grinned.

  The Road Hog Bar catered to big, rugged men with leather jackets and Harleys and their scantily clad women . . . oh great, I’m going to be one of them.

  The patrons at the bar turned in their seats to size us up when we entered. I was about ready to turn and run, but Brett kept a firm grip and steered me in. One by one the tattooed men turned away.