Chronic (Se7en Deadly SEALs Book 2) (5 page)

He knocked back his beer, his other hand rubbing my left thigh. “This is your lucky day, babydoll. Meet me downtown tonight. There’s this club, Diamond, on Market Street. Without Grant. I’ll make sure he’s called into work. You can thank me by giving me a private dance. I’d love to have those gorgeous titties rubbing all over my face. Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll come all over them.”

I tried to give him a coy smile while I fought the bile that was trying to come up into my throat. “Diamond? I heard it is good club. My friend Autumn told to me about it.”

His tongue darted out to lick his lips. “You know Autumn? I didn’t know Grant let his girls party together. Maybe you, Autumn and I can have some fun later—you can lick her pussy while I fuck you from behind. Would you like that babydoll?”

What in the fuck?! God, this man was so vile. He didn’t even care that I was with his friend, a man who would die for him. Or then again, maybe these SEALs always shared their strippers. I prayed Grant didn’t treat any woman like this, no matter what her occupation was.

“I do not like women, the way I like men.”

His smile looked even sleazier than I’d seen it look before. “Have you ever been with a woman?”

“No. Women to me, they are beautiful. But I like men,” I replied, shaking my head.

I wanted to flee. But he had invited me to Diamond. And Autumn had mentioned that club to me the other night. This couldn’t be a coincidence—I now had solid proof that SEALs on Joaquín’s Team partied at Diamond.

“I’ll meet you there at seven. Don’t be late.”

I glanced toward Grant to make sure he wasn’t watching us. Then I steadied my nerves, and whispered into Mitch’s ear, “I will be there. Thank you.”

He held my gaze for a moment, looking grossly satisfied with himself, before shoving me against a cabinet, his huge cock pressing into me. I gasped, and recoiled at his touch—then remembered my purpose and playfully slapped him. He let out a devilish laugh before releasing me.

I headed to the backyard, holding my drink and Grant’s beer. Though my flesh crawled and I had a bitter taste in my mouth, hope beamed inside of me. I was confident there would be a clue at Diamond.

***

AS HE HAD PROMISED, MITCH roped Grant into some kind of work emergency. Luckily for me, being a Navy SEAL BUD/S instructor was a twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week job.

I turned my key into the doorknob of my apartment; the place I lived in was a dump. My roommate, Olga, didn’t say a word to me as she eyed me from her permanent place in front of the television. But a quick, disgusted snort told me exactly what she thought of me. I wanted to move out, I wished I could live with Grant. Even in my current incarnation, I only truly felt safe when he was by my side. But at the moment that was out of the question—I needed a refuge to do some of my own intel, away from his glaring eye.

Perfect example was the tracking device I’d put on Mitch’s phone. I grabbed my small laptop, and logged in to the private portal Roman had set up for me. A few key swipes, and I was in. Data filled the screen. I poured myself a glass of rosé and settled in to read.

At first glance, nothing stood out. A bunch of messages to his command, his friends. Hell, he even checked in with his mom. As I went back further, I saw some messages to his wife, April. Yup, they weren’t together anymore. I didn’t know if they were divorced or what, but their messages were terse. She was living back home in Seattle, and it looked like most of her texts to him had gone unanswered. I definitely had to investigate that further. I can’t believe she finally left him. Sure, he was a jerk. But when I’d first met them, they had been so in love. Guess they were on the 90% side of that SEAL divorce rate after all.

Marriage drama aside, another message stood out to me. To a Rafael. No text, no emoticons, just a smiley face.

Why was he sending a guy a smiley face? I was certain Rafael wasn’t a SEAL. I’d never met him, and though he could be new, the established Frogmen never really hung out with the tadpoles.

Maybe I was reading something into nothing. But there were no records of any other texts or calls to this number going thirty days back. I didn’t have enough information now to draw a conclusion, but I stored my suspicion for later use.

I showered, changed, and got ready to meet Mitch. I dressed in a long silver evening gown; appropriate attire that I thought Ksenya would wear for an interview at a high-end strip club. Was Mitch setting me up? I just hoped Grant wouldn’t find out where I was or whom I was with.

I applied the blood-red lipstick and stared again at this stranger in the mirror. Would I ever get used to looking like this? Once this was over, I wished I could go back to looking like me but sadly that wasn’t possible.

A short time later, I arrived at Diamond. Set in the heart of San Diego, the view of the Coronado Bridge in the background still took my breath away every time I looked at it. That bridge had once represented everything I’d loved about San Diego—Grant, Joaquín, the Navy SEALs, the Hotel Del. Now, my eyes just filled with tears at the mere sight of the lights in the distance.

My sparkly gown glowed in the moonlight. A few men catcalled me, but I kept my gaze ahead until I heard my phone beep. I glanced down and my heart sank when I saw the text.

Grant:
Hey Babe. I miss you.

It was simple. Sweet. Not a sexual innuendo in sight. It was almost like he was way back when we were dating.

But I didn’t have time to respond. Behind the shiny glass doors, Mitch awaited. And hopefully a clue to Tiffany’s killer.

The doors swung open and before I could figure out where to go, Mitch appeared in front of me dressed in a tailored suit, his hair slicked back, his beard freshly trimmed.

I wanted to hate this man though I had this unmistakable gut feeling that Mitch wasn’t evil. He didn’t strike me as one of those rare Navy SEALs who joined for the sole reason that he could become a legalized serial killer. Had he always been the cocky jerk I’d known over the years? Maybe his bravado was just an act that he adopted to get through BUD/S, a shell to make him better able to perform on the job without allowing himself to feel the immense pain, physical and emotional, that being a SEAL required.

Right now, he smelled incredible; like those chocolate after-dinner mints that I loved sucking on. “You’re so beautiful.” His hand brushed a lock of my hair out of my face. “Relax, I’ll take care of you.”

I squeezed his hand and he placed his arm around my shoulder. For once, he wasn’t abrasive; he seemed almost comforting, warm, and dare I say, like a gentleman. I allowed myself to see him with fresh eyes, tonight only. Find out why his wife had fallen in love with him.

Mitch led me down the red-carpeted hallway. I felt as if I was at a movie premiere rather than a strip club. But this place was unlike any strip club I’d visited in preparation for going undercover. I thought San Francisco had some classy joints—this place looked like a restaurant. There was no public stage for women to dance on while men gawked at them. Girls, who could’ve been mistaken as models, milled around the men, who were seated in private booths or at the bar. Male waiters carried plates of expensive-looking food and bottles of vintage wine. Definitely a step up from Panthers.

Mitch pulled me into a private booth. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

My lips spread into a forced smile as he turned to walk away. I scanned the club, eyeing the girls. There was a redhead in the corner who I recognized as Emma, another stripper who had worked at Panthers but had vanished. Last winter, she had given me the first clue to this case—that Grant had invited the strippers to the party. A clue that broke my heart. If I’d only known then that her words would lead me to this new life.

Across the room, I saw a blonde with a crisp bob who had to be Autumn. She didn’t see me yet but I would make sure to connect with her.

Yes, this was the place to be. Had Grant ever come here? Had Joaquín?

Mitch came back to my table accompanied by a short, stocky guy, late thirties, sporting a full beard. Looked like he could be a former SEAL, but I didn’t recognize him.

“Ksenya, this is Jack. He owns the club.”

“Nice to meet together with you, Jack.” I held up my hand and he kissed it.

“Pleasure is mine. Mitch wasn’t lying. You’re a knockout—you look like a young Pamela Anderson. Tell me, doll, why do you want to work here?”

I used my best breathy sex kitten voice, hinged with my fake accent. “I love men. I love to make them happy.”

Jack and Mitch lapped my words. God, men were so easy.

Jack stared at my chest, and I arched my back to give him a better view. “Well, babydoll, you can make me happy anytime. Maybe, I’ll adopt you as my personal pet. Let me show you around and introduce you to the girls. You can audition on Monday.”

Audition? What was tonight—just a meet-and-greet? And what the fuck did he mean about being his pet? I’d drawn my lines into the sand early—no sex with anyone except Grant and I’d even managed to resist him so far. I deserved a medal for that feat. Once I’d crossed that boundary with a man other than Grant, I would never be able to respect myself again. But this new opportunity was good, I still had a chance here. A breakthrough in the case felt so close—I was in this swanky club where at least two of the strippers who knew Tiffany worked and may be able to provide me with much-needed clues.

Mitch squeezed my arm. “You owe me a dance. I’ll be here on Monday.”

“Thank you, Mitch. I will save the dance for you.” Mitch settled into the booth as Jack led me away.

Jack lowered his hand to my waist, his fingers tapping on my ass. “We have some rules. I’m telling you now so you can decide if you want to still work here. Number one—no boyfriends. If you have one, he better not step foot in here. Your job is to entertain our clients, make small talk, dance, laugh at their jokes. We don’t want any trouble at all.”

I swallowed. Grant. I had to tell him about this job. Otherwise he would find out for sure. I didn’t trust Mitch to keep my secret.

Or maybe . . . I could wait a bit. Tell him I was taking an English class, stall until I got the information I needed and then quit before he ever found out. I had to keep Grant close as an informant, a spy in the house of SEALs. I’d royally piss him off when he found out I asked Mitch to help me get a job. Mitch was still on my radar, though at the moment, I felt deep down like he was just a jackass, not a murderer. But I couldn’t be certain.

Jack took me into the dancers’ lounge room in the back of the club. Instead of secondhand lumpy couches at Panthers, this club was filled with velvet chaises, lighted mirrors, and walls adorned with art. But I didn’t care about the ambiance. I scanned the room of girls. Autumn was applying lipstick, and Emma chatting on her cell phone.

Remember, Mia, you don’t know Emma.

I didn’t approach either one yet. I was sitting in the room with two women who were at the party the night Tiffany was killed. Two women who knew her. Two women who knew the men of SEAL Team Seven. And unlike the SEALs, these women loved to talk.

Jack didn’t even bother to introduce me to anyone. He just gave me a pat on my bottom and left to go back to the main club.

Autumn now glanced my way. “Ksenya! I didn’t know you were coming by. You didn’t text me or nothing.” She squealed like a schoolgirl and wrapped me in a big hug. “Are you going to work here? I told you this place was way classy. Let me introduce you to everyone.”

Score! I had to control my feet from dancing.

Autumn linked her hand around mine and took me over to Emma.

“Emma, this is that Russian girl I told you about.”

“Nice to meet with you, Emma. My name it is Ksenya. I am actually from the Ukraine.”

Emma just gave me a distracted wave and went back to chatting on her phone. When I’d met Emma in the parking lot of Panthers, she’d been so kind and welcoming to me—this time, not so much. Now I was a threat, competition to her job, rather than some pathetic girl, sobbing over her wayward ex-boyfriend and despondent over the loss of her brother.

Autumn continued to show me around. I didn’t get this girl; she was so sweet to me, and I didn’t feel like it was an act. She was young, not jaded, and perhaps really wanted a friend. She seemed lonely, and I couldn’t help but wonder how much longer she would be so bubbly before the realities of life as a stripper broke her spirit.

She took me aside and led me into the bathroom. “Uhm, can I ask you something?”

I nodded my head.

She bit her fingernails, the crimson polish chipping at the ends. “Are you still seeing Grant? I mean that’s cool if you are and everything, I’m just curious and all.”

I swallowed. I was standing next to a girl who had been with my man on the night Tiffany was murdered, on the night that ruined my brother’s life.

“Yes, I am. But he do not know that I am here.”

She blinked rapidly. “That’s cool.” She paused and her shoulders slumped. “Hey, what are you doing tomorrow? I wanted to head out to Temecula to visit Tiffy’s family.”

Tiffany’s family—people who no doubted wanted to crucify my brother. But no way in hell would I squander the opportunity to meet them.

Autumn rattled on. “The girls won’t go with me. They are all weirded-out by it, like they can’t deal with her death. I mean everyone’s just forgotten about her. It could’ve been me, you know? So… I just wanted to do something nice for her family. I know I don’t know you, and you don’t know me, but I just really don’t want to go alone. And you seem nice and all.”

God, I wanted to hug this girl. She was the first to tell me exactly where Grant was that night, eliminating him as a suspect, first to tell me about Diamond, and now she was going to bring me to meet Tiffany’s family? She was too good to be true.

“I’d love to go together with you. You have it, my number, yes?”

“Oh, thank you. Have you been to Temecula? It’s beautiful and all too! Like they have wineries and all the super-hot motorcross guys live up there.”

Autumn rattled on about some wine-tasting event but all I could focus on was that tomorrow I’d be meeting the family of the girl who my brother was accused of murdering.

***