Authors: Ginger Simpson
Michelle stepped into the room, allowing Bengal to close the door. The co-mingled perfumes, and creams assailed her senses while she struggled not to pinch her nostrils closed. Dust bunnies and dead bugs clumped together in cobwebs on the ceiling and corners of the room, all adhered together by the sticky residue of over sprayed hair.
“Hey, Alicia,” Siamese called out. “Whatcha doing slumming around here again? It’s good to see a friendly face. We heard about Persia this morning and I think everyone’s nerves are frayed.”
With one bare foot planted on a chair, the older woman, clad in a short silk robe, leaned closer to the mirror and drew a thick dark line across a wrinkled eyelid. The skin on the underside of her arm crinkled with every movement.
Despite her nervousness, Michelle avoided taking a deep breath of the eye-watering fragrances, instead, drew her fingers across the tip of her nose to quell a welling sneeze. The urge passed, and she sniffed. “Yes, I was sorry to hear about Persia’s death from Louis,” she lied, but pushed ahead with her plan. “Cara Austin’s parents…oh that’s Kitten to you, says she kept a daily journal, and I’m trying to find it. We didn’t locate it when we went through her apartment and belongings, so I wonder if any of you know if she left it here? If I’m lucky, I might be able to tie the two cases together.”
A few shrugs and headshakes came in response, but Siamese straightened, her shoulders taut and eyes wide.
“W…we keep most of our belongings in our personal lockers. If Kitten left anything here, that’d be the place.”
Wanting to roll her eyes at something she already knew, Michelle inwardly sighed. She’d hoped for someone to hold up the journal and say, “Here it is,” but that would be too easy.
Still, Siamese’s reaction only moved her higher on the suspect list. Michelle shrugged off her disappointment. If the older stripper was the perp, there was little chance the journal was still here…if it had ever been. She couldn’t stop her inquiry now.
“I learned from the bouncer you all have lockers, but don’t they have combination locks?”
“Sure do.” Siamese shimmied into a revealing outfit that looked more like lingerie.
“I don’t suppose any of you know—”
“I know how to open it.” Siamese offered the solution. “Some of us share numbers with others in case of an emergency, but I’d have to open my own locker first to get the information out of my purse. My memory isn’t what it used to be.” She chuckled, yanking up the strapless top that threatened to let her breasts spill out. The older woman peered down at her chest and frowned. “Nothing of mine is like it used to be.”
Siamese grabbed a flashlight from a shelf.
“I’ll be needing this to see. You’d think they’d give us a little more light out there, wouldn’t you?” She opened the door and walked into the backstage area.
Siamese opened her own locker on the top row, and plucked a slip of paper from a side pocket in her purse.
With the combination in hand, she bent to the bottom row, her knees cracking and popping. The flashlight on the floor provided light enough to see and reflected on the silver lock Siamese began turning, moving from one number to another.
A distinct click caused Michelle’s heart to race.
Siamese swung open the locker door. “What is it you’re looking for?”
Like she didn’t know.
Michelle should have insisted on checking Siamese’s locker, but it was too late if she wanted to stay on good terms with the woman. She bent slightly. “If you don’t mind, just pull out everything inside.”
“There isn’t much in here to pull out.”
Siamese fished inside and yanked out a sweater.
“That’s it?”
Disappointment released in Michelle’s huge sigh. “Are you sure?”
Siamese stretched her arm in the locker and swept it back and forth.
“Yep, that’s it. Sorry, Alicia. I know you were hoping to find more.”
Without the journal, Michelle’s hopes for clues to the murderer were dashed.
Still, she was alone with one of her prime suspects in Persia’s demise. Why not Kitten’s? Maybe this was the perfect opportunity to question her.
“Siamese, I need to ask where you where the night Kitten was killed.
I’m asking everyone, so please don’t take offense.”
With more cracking and popping, the stripper stood and thrust the sweater at Michelle.
“I was working. You can check my schedule if you’d like.” Clearly she was insulted.
“That’s all I needed to know.”
For now, the answer sufficed. If she ever got her hands on the journal, Michelle might not need to ask anything further, but chances of her finding the missing book were looking pretty dismal. She sucked up her disappointment and cast a smile at Siamese. “Thanks, I know you need to get back, so I’ll not keep you any longer.”
Tugging at the top of her costume again, the woman nodded.
“It’s almost time for me to go on stage so I’ll leave you now.” She bent, picked up the flashlight, and pressing a palm against the small of her spine, disappeared into the dressing room. A slice of light pierced the darkness until the door closed behind her.
Michelle looked left and right before stooping and doing her own sweeping inspection of the locker.
Sadly, it
was empty, but she had to make sure Siamese hadn’t just pushed the book to the rear and pretended it wasn’t there. Now how to proceed? Her mind repeatedly raced back through the steps she’d taken and every time came to the same dead end. She left the backstage area and went to fetch her partner.
* * *
Tony opened the passenger door and Michelle slid inside. Her purse rested against her midsection, secured tightly by hands fisted in despair. Damn, where did she go now? Tired eyes blurred her partner’s outline as she gazed through the windshield and drowsiness encouraged her to go home. She sagged against the headrest and lowered her lids, but bolted upright when Tony slammed his door.
He leaned forward and put the keys in the ignition, but left them dangling.
He swiveled and faced her, sincere remorse reflecting in his eyes and his good looks beating down her defenses. His full lips, so appealing, turned downward in a frown she felt sure was on her behalf. “Sorry things didn’t go any better, Meesh, but…”
Her purse hit the floor with a thud and, in a flash, she crossed the distance between them and molded her lips to his.
Whether his mouth opened in shock or at her probing, she didn’t care, but when their tongues touched, flaming desire surged down her limbs and pooled in her hands and feet. The core of her womanhood throbbed with the passion she’d denied for so long.
Her mental alarm bell sounded. Michelle jerked away, her cheeks flaming and emotions choking back the excuse she sought to offer. She inched back across the leather expanse, ran trembling hands down her slacks and stared into her lap.
“I…I’m sorry Tony, that should never have happened. I don’t know what came over me.” Like hell, she didn’t know. She’d wanted to taste his kiss since the first day she saw him. She dared a glance at him.
Clearly shocked by her boldness, her partner offered no comment.
His eyes still wide, Tony’s breathing sliced the silence while his tongue lapped at his bottom lip. He adjusted in his seat, started the car, put it in gear and drove out the driveway onto the street.
Oh, what had she done?
Had she ruined their working relationship? Would he report her for conduct unbecoming an officer? Choking back tears, she bent to retrieve her purse, straightened, and stared into the oncoming traffic. Her worries didn’t slow her racing heart.
Tony’s mouth tingled. He still tasted Michelle’s lipstick on his tongue, and the crotch of his pants tightened with need to continue what she’d started. He wanted to say something, but words escaped him. Better yet, he wanted to swing into one of the many motels along the boulevard and get a room. She’d only done what he’d dreamed about for so long, but now she’d ignited a spark he couldn’t fan into a flame. Damn rules and regulations, he wanted her in the worst...or best way, but at the cost of his job? He slowed his breathing and kept his eyes on the road.
“Meesh, are you all right?”
He reached across the sedan’s seat and squeezed her hand.
“Just failed the self-control test is all.
That and I’m totally embarrassed.”
“Don’t be embarrassed. I’ve teetered on the edge of losing control a few times myself.
You’re a gorgeous and sexy lady, and if I wasn’t scared shitless of unemployment, I would have made a move a long time ago. If it’s any consolation, I enjoyed the kiss.”
She slipped her hand from beneath his and moved it to her lap.
“I’m not usually that impulsive.”
“Like I said, I didn’t mind, and there’s no reason anyone else needs to know about it.”
“You mean you aren’t going to report me?”
His forehead tightened, yanking his eyebrows upward. He took his eyes off the road and glanced at her.
“Why in the hell would I do that? You’re the best partner I’ve ever had, and to say I’m attracted to you is an understatement.”
She hung her head.
“What are we going to do? Obviously I feel the same, but we’ll be flirting with our jobs if we act on our attraction.”
He signaled, checked the rearview mirror and halted the car along the curb.
Swiveling, Tony drew one knee up onto the seat. She chewed her bottom lip and released a long sigh, her gaze avoiding his. His hand sought her thigh and rested on it. “Meesh, are you saying we need to work apart?” An empty feeling consumed him at the thought of not being with her every day.
She turned teary eyes to him.
“I don’t know what else to do. I won’t be the person responsible for you losing everything.”
“What about you?
You’ve been a cop longer than I have.”
“I’m not worried about me.
I’d just have to start a new career.”
“Like I said, let’s just keep this our little secret and try to resist temptation no matter how hard it is.”
She nodded. “I’ll do my best.”
His mind raced with wanton thoughts.
He’d love to have her do her best, but to him, not by pretending he didn’t exist. He’d made the suggestion to resist her charms, now he’d have to try and keep his part of the bargain.
* * *
What about her? As soon as he’d asked the question, her published novel and work-in-progress came to mind. As much as she enjoyed being on the force, Tony was ninety-nine percent why. If she gave up her job, she had another one to pursue...one she enjoyed almost as much, and more importantly, one that didn’t prohibit her from seeing him romantically. Now that she’d acted on her emotions, she knew she’d be resigning, but not until they caught the killer stalking the strippers. She wasn’t the kind who left a job half done.
After moments of silence, she conjured up every ounce of courage she had.
“All right, Tony. We’re going to pretend this never happened, at least for the time being. As soon as we close our pending cases, I intend to resign–”
“Resign?
Are you crazy?”
“I have two reasons.
One I can’t share with you right now, but I think you can guess the other. I want us to have a chance together and that won’t ever happen if we remain partners.”
He swabbed his brow with the back of his hand.
“I want us to be together too, but you shouldn’t have to quit your job. And, why can’t you tell me the other reason? Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course I trust you, and I will tell you, but not right now.
We have work to do, so let’s concentrate on catching a killer and leave this conversation where it is at the moment. Deal?”
He didn’t agree or disagree, but drove in silence until they reached her apartment complex.
He stopped at the curb, his eyes still on the road. Michelle opened her door and got out. So much for his being a gentleman and walking her to the door, or opening hers as he’d attempted earlier. Maybe his decision to say put was for the best. If he got close to her place, she just might drag him inside.
Michelle’s heels clicked loudly in the silence as she made her way up the sidewalk.
She unlocked her apartment door and went inside. With a flick of the light switch, the end table lamp illuminated the dim room. She leaned against the closed door and scrunched her eyes tight to keep her tears inside. She bit her lip, still filled with want for a man she couldn’t have...at least for now.
Passion swelled inside her, raging like water forming a flash flood, and strangely, thoughts for her novel floated past her eyes like logs caught in the current.
She slung her bag on the couch, crossed to the fridge and poured herself a glass of wine, then sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, she opened her laptop. Everything she felt flowed from her fingertips onto the keyboard. Her muse was back, and Michelle was going to finish this book and get on with her life...at least she’d be ready when the murderer was behind bars.
Her fictional accounting of the kiss she’d shared with Tony became much more. In her manuscript, their bodies, glistening with perspiration, clung together in a king-sized bed, their limbs intertwined while he peppered her neck and breasts with kisses. He paused at her left breast and drew a hardened nipple into his mouth, nipping at the nub and making her plead with want for him inside her.