“Unless you want to take this a step further, outside of work, don’t play with me.” Ty’s husky voice sent ripples of desire through her body.
Phil swallowed hard, consciously pulling herself out of the erogenous zone that was Ty Jamerson. Literally she shook herself and wondered where the hell all that sex play came from. She was Philamina Marie Zorn, preacher’s granddaughter, and while she could play Kat, it was only to those who believed she was a cocktail server at Klub Kashmir.
There was history with Ty, slight though it was, and he could hurt her. Her heart slammed against her chest. Yes, he could hurt her. Break her heart if she let him. Realization swarmed her practical mind. Vulnerability made you weak, and she needed to be strong. Strong for her own self-preservation, and strong
and
focused for the case. They had three missing women to find. She wouldn’t jeopardize their lives by being caught off guard.
Ty moved back, giving her more space. She didn’t need to look down to his tented crotch to know he was aroused. She’d felt him rise against her belly, and while she took a perverse pleasure in being the one to cause his erection, she also felt like a tease, and not a nice one. Not that Ty Jamerson deserved nice. But, grudgingly, she had to give him kudos for keeping his hands to himself and being on top of every horny asshole in the place who wanted to get his fingers in her pants.
“I…ah, sir, I was just getting into character.”
Ty eyed her suspiciously, knowing she’d just fed him a line of bullshit. “Speaking of getting into character. Call me ‘Ty’ or ‘Mr. Masters’ at all times. In fact, do it off the clock until the case is closed.” He grinned, the gesture lethal. “I’ll call you Kat. Or when the mood strikes me, Pussy.”
Kat rose to the bait. “You think you’re man enough to make this pussy purr?”
Ty’s grin widened. “And then some. I’ve got a sudden itch for some cat scratch fever.”
She stepped closer, her nostrils flared, and she throbbed between her legs. If he didn’t watch out, he’d find her claw marks in his back. And once she sunk them into him, she wouldn’t release him, until
she
wanted to.
“Maybe you
are
man enough, but we won’t find that out anytime soon.”
She hurried past him, shutting him down cold. She wished she could say the same for herself. Her body flared hot with desire. Desire she’d never known she was capable of feeling, scaring her with its ferocity.
Remembering where she was and why, Phil made a quick tour of her tables, picking up orders from several men, who were grumbling because she’d disappeared for a couple minutes. The night rushed past her. And while she kept a suspicious eye cast over the ribald crowd, aside from the flying testosterone and gyrating body parts, Phil’s gut told her all was as it should be inside Klub Kashmir.
One dancer after another strutted, sauntered, slid, and swam across the stage, humping the pole, air, and stage floor. The more alcohol was consumed, the looser the men’s wallets became. By the end of the night, Kat counted out nearly three hundred and fifty dollars in tips.
She rubbed her throbbing feet as she turned in her tray. It wasn’t worth the pain. She almost cried when she set her bare feet down on the floor, it felt so good.
She made a mental note to bring a pair of comfy tennis shoes to wear out like the other cocktails. As she rubbed her tired sore feet, she said, “You live and learn.”
“I hope you do, Kat.”
She looked up at Ty. “I have to hand it to the other ladies. They must have cast-iron feet. I’d give anything for a foot massage right now.”
He grinned down at her. “Maybe that can be arranged.”
Before she could respond, Candi bebopped over to them, chomping her ever-present gum. “How’d it go tonight, Kitty? I saw you working some of those guys. I bet you made bank.”
Candi slipped her arm through Ty’s and hugged his arm to her breasts.
A jolt of jealousy jabbed at Phil’s gut. She didn’t care for the sensation, especially since she liked Candi. She smiled genuinely. If Candi and Ty had a thing going on, she’d be damned if she’d interfere. Besides, it would no doubt save her a broken heart in the end.
“I cleaned up. I think. Three fifty less my percentage to the house. Is that good?”
Ty coughed and Candi squealed. “Wow, were you giving blow jobs on the side, honey? I only take home twice that and I’m a featured dancer.”
Phil glanced up at Ty’s darkened face. Her cheeks warmed. She could work this place for a decade even in Kat’s skin, and still not get used to the derogatory sexual terms or the gratuitous way such acts were performed. She surmised it must be her, because she seemed to be the only one shocked by it all.
Phil opened her mouth to respond, but once again, Candi answered her question for her. “Oh, I know, you had a few lap dances.”
“Well, actually, I didn’t. I—” Phil looked up at a scowling Ty. “I’ve never done a lap dance before, I wouldn’t know what to do.”
Candi’s jaw dropped open and her gum plopped out onto the floor. “Honey, it’s just a matter of time before one of these guys pays for a lap dance. You can’t go in blind.” Candi disengaged herself from Ty. Patting his hand, she smiled up at him. “I have something for your new girl.” Candi turned to Phil. “Kitty, you stay right there. I have a video of me dancing for a couple of bachelors last month. It’s my best work to date. Pop it in when you get home, and feel free to use my moves.” She turned to get it when Ty’s voice stopped her.
“That won’t be necessary, Candi. Kat won’t be doing lap dances.”
In unison both women asked, “Why not?”
Ty scowled, first at Kat, then at Candi. Quickly he hid his annoyance. “I was under the impression, Kat here had some—” He looked at Kat for some help.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Phil raised a brow. “Under what impression, Mr. Masters?”
“That you had a disfigurement.”
Phil smiled slowly. “Would you like to see for yourself that I have nothing unusual hiding under this poor excuse for a uniform?”
Ty considered calling her bluff. On an impulse, he did. He nodded and grinned at Phil’s wide-eyed response. If she wanted to play with fire, she’d best learn to get burned. Lucky for his daredevil Officer Zorn, the only person left in the club area was Bud.
Phil locked eyes with her boss. She called on Kat from within and told her to do it for the missing women. Slowly, Phil turned and with her bottom aimed at Ty, she flipped up her short skirt, revealing her flawless ass. Ty’s sharp intake of breath satisfied her ego. Candi gave her own commentary. “Kitty, you have a nice butt. What’s the front of you look like?”
Ty couldn’t wait to see. Phil spun around and flipped up the front part of her skirt. Her thighs were smooth and taut, and the slice of red material that shielded her from view did a poor job; he could see the outline of her moist lips pressed against the material. His eyes caught hers and he knew she was as hot for him as he was for her.
“Kitty, if I were a guy, I’d want to do you right now. You sure are beautiful.”
“Untie the top,” Ty commanded softly. Phil slid the pleats of her skirt back into place.
Slowly, she untied the knot that held the heavy ripeness of her breasts. Her nipples tingled in anticipation and much to her horror she wanted Ty to see her breasts. More than that, she wanted him to touch them.
The knot slid open. She pulled back the sheer material and turned away from Ty to Candi. Her breasts tumbled out and she caught her breath.
Candi’s eyes widened and Ty cursed. “Those are real, aren’t they?” Candi asked.
Gently, the dancer touched the underside of Phil’s left breast. The sensation of the contact surprised Phil. Her skin was so sensitive, she felt as if a layer had been peeled off.
Phil’s throat closed up as she nodded mutely. She wanted to close her top and run out the door. Even as Kat she found it excruciating baring her breasts.
Phil moved aside, allowing Kat full reign of the moment. Kat turned up the heat. She cocked her head back and over her shoulder and winked at Ty.
His eyes burned hot in his face and the flare of his nostrils reminded her of a dog sniffing the air for a mate. From the looks of Ty, he’d found the one he wanted.
Turning back to Candi, Kat asked, “So? Do they meet with your approval?”
Candi smiled as Phil gritted her teeth. Her father would roll over in his grave if he could see her now. “If I were the jealous type, Kitty, I’d hurt you right now. Your body is beautiful. I’m glad you aren’t dancing; I couldn’t stand the competition.”
Over her shoulder, Phil cocked a brow at Ty. “Well, Mr. Masters? Is Candi’s word good enough or do you want to see for yourself?”
Ty cleared his throat. “It’s enough.”
Slowly, Phil retied the knot to the top and turned to face him. “Excellent.” Once she composed herself, she looked him hard in the eye. “So there won’t be a problem with you allowing me to provide private lap dances for the paying clients, if that’s what I choose?”
The muscles in his jaw worked. “Absolutely not.”
Candi clapped her hands. “Oh, goody. I’ll get you my video.”
The minute Candi walked out of earshot, Ty ground out, “What the hell are you doing?”
Phil smiled and moved into his space. “When undercover, do as those around you do.”
“I didn’t mean it literally.”
“Of course you did, Mr. Masters. How else am I supposed to set myself up for a kidnapping if I’m not performing? Fetching drinks won’t bring attention my way.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to strip.”
She nodded, considering his angry tone. In his burning eyes she didn’t see a lieutenant’s concern for one of his own; no, she saw something more powerful. Jealousy. And that stirred something sleeping deep within her. She suddenly felt like she was walking on very thin ice, ice that with one false move would crack wide open, plunging her into a black icy hole of pain and regret.
“It’s not like I’m getting onstage. A private lap dance or two won’t hurt.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Too bad. Besides, the guys can’t touch me, right?”
He nodded.
“Then there you go. With one of your goons in the shadows, I’ll be safe.”
Ty stood silent, his arms crossed over his chest, the hard line of his jaw the only clue to his anger.
What the hell did she just insist on doing? And why? Phil inhaled a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Well, there it was, out in the open. She’d just committed to performing a lap dance. Her stomach twittered nervously. Charging in and taking no names had become status quo around her lieutenant. And for someone who prided herself on painstakingly mapping out a strategy, she really needed to work on her knee-jerk reaction to her handsome boss.
CHAPTER SEVEN
T
y stood rooted to the asphalt parking lot and watched Phil drive out of the lot in her safe, practical, and most uninspiring Taurus. The complete opposite of the woman who drove it.
He had a problem, one he’d never encountered in his life. He was torn. Jesus, he felt like he’d been gut punched.
The red brake lights of Phil’s car flashed as she came to a
STOP
sign, then disappeared into the darkness of the early morning hour.
Ty’s fists clenched at his sides. When she’d exposed her body parts in the bar, his gut seized. He thought she was different.
A woman who had some class and self-respect. His mother’s sunken, sallow face flashed before him. He turned back to the club and cursed out loud. His mother had raised him in the back of every strip joint from Chicago to San Francisco.
Hell, she couldn’t tell Ty who his father was. Some nameless, faceless john. To this day he didn’t know why she chose to give birth to him instead of having an abortion. Why, he wondered, had she kept him when she so easily aborted others? It was after the third one, the self-induced one in the flytrap apartment in Oakland, when he split the first time. He couldn’t watch her kill herself any longer. Her body had long ago lost its luster of youth and she’d reduced her life to blow jobs on the side to feed her heroin habit. Guilt sent him back. He was all she had in the world. That and her heroin addiction. He should have gotten a clue when she didn’t notice he’d been gone for two weeks. When he refused to pimp for her, and she called him an ungrateful bastard, he knew unless she cleaned up, she wouldn’t last another six months. After repeated threats to call the cops, he got her to agree to rehab. She promised him she’d try—instead two days later he found her dead in her room with a needle stuck in her arm.
“Yo, Boss Man!” Bud called from the open front door.
Ty shook the black memories from his head and headed back into the club.
“What’s up, Bud?’
“Not sure. I found this crumpled up on the bar. It wasn’t there when we closed.”
He handed Ty a Klub Kashmir napkin. Scrawled neatly in black pen were two words,
Get Pussy
. Ty shrugged. Pussy abounded in the club.
“Who came by the bar after we closed down?”
Bud scratched the stubble on his chin. “No one out of the ordinary. The new girl, Kat, you, and Milo.”
Mile High Milo, Ty called the Samoan bouncer who filled up the entryway. Aside from manhandling drunks, the guy had no record and the heart of a pussycat.
Ty glanced down at the napkin again.
Get Pussy.
A disturbing thought niggled at his brain. When it exploded into realization, his instincts took over. Never one to ignore his gut, Ty acted. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Bud.”
He hurried out the door and jumped into his truck. Kat—Kitty—Pussy. Was Kat the “Pussy” the author of the napkin wanted? A chill sprinted down his spine. He punched in the precinct number on his cellphone and demanded Phil’s address. Once he had it, he floored his truck and gave dispatch orders to start the nearest unit en route.
He was about ten minutes behind her.
Phil drove too fast. The best perk of being a cop was never having to worry about speeding tickets, not that she took advantage of that fact. But tonight her feet throbbed and she’d kill for a foot massage. She couldn’t wait to get home, shower, then slip between fresh sheets. Those creature comforts dominated her senses, but whispering in the back of her mind, too insistent to ignore, was the heated excitement that had ripped through her body when she bared herself to Ty.