Concealment (The Cassano Series Book 1) Page 8

  She’s wearing only a pair of black panties, and bold and shiny seems to be the theme in this strip club.

  “You better stop the gawking before you’re tenting your jeans.”

  He smirks and rolls his eyes, which he does to me at least a dozen times a day.

  “Hey, lady,” the bartender says.

  I whip around and glare at her. Hey, lady? Does this woman have any manners?

  “I’m Detective Hart.”

  Now, she’s rolling her eyes. “Detective Hart, you two can go through that door at the back of the room there.”

  She points, so I follow the direction of her rude finger. “After you go through that one, the second door on the left is the dressing room. Just knock first so they’re decent.”

  Seriously? The strippers are topless out here. How decent are they going to be? Reggie and I stride toward the door.

  I guess I’m not one to talk about appearing decent since I’ll have my hooker outfit on soon enough.

  I tap three times on the door before a woman opens it. “Hi, I’m Detective Hart, and this is Detective Soren.” I hold up my badge. “We’re looking for Sonya and Rosy.”

  “I’m Sonya. Come in.” The redhead steps aside for us to enter. She’s wearing a t-shirt and tiny, denim shorts. Her hair is short, makeup thick, and I smell perfume.

  She points to a woman at a vanity. “That’s Rosy.” With her back facing the door, the lady peers at us through the mirror. She powders her face before turning around in her swivel chair. Long, blonde hair is curled, her makeup bold like Sonya’s.

  Glancing around, I see that we’re alone in the dressing room. “We were told you witnessed an assault,” I say.

  “We didn’t witness it. We saw the evidence left behind,” Rosy says before standing and leaning back against the vanity.

  She’s in a frilly, black skirt that barely covers her crotch and a raggedy t-shirt that doesn’t match. I’m guessing the shirt will be disposed of soon.

  “Can you tell us your story?” Reggie asks with an impatient tone.

  “Sure,” Sonya replies. “Our good friend, Molly Pennington, was working a couple of nights ago. The three of us are roommates and in college together.

  “She was paid to do a private session toward the end of our shift in one of the skybox rooms with a wealthy customer and a couple of his friends. He looked familiar to me, but I couldn’t place him.

  “Anyway, she did the session and finished up right before we were leaving. She was in the dressing room only long enough to grab her things and to tell us she was going home with him.

  “I can’t explain it, but I had a bad feeling about it,” Sonya says. “Molly claimed she knew of him and not to worry about her before she ran out of here.”

  “So, she didn’t give either of you the guy’s name?” I ask.

  Rosy shakes her head. “Nope, and then at noon yesterday, she showed up at our apartment beat to a pulp.”

  “What did she say happened?” I ask as I write details in my small notepad.

  “First, she said there was a wad of money in her purse. That seemed to be what she was most upset about. She said he had shoved it in her mouth while she was tied to his bed,” Rosy adds.

  I scrunch my forehead as the image of a young woman in that predicament flashes in my mind.

  Sonya points a finger at us. “We don’t prostitute. We never sleep with men for money. When Molly left with this guy, she thought she was going home with him because he was into her, not for hire.”

  I nod. “OK, but did she say who hit her?”

  “She said it was him, and no one else was with them once they went back to his place except for a couple of men she thought were bodyguards.

  “All she would tell us was that he got her drunk and they messed around. Then, he told her he wanted to do some kinkier shit.”

  “What kind of kinkier shit?” Reggie asks.

  “She wouldn’t say. All she would tell us was that she agreed at first. Once she was tied up to his bed, she freaked and wanted out of there.

  “He got pissed and beat her up. She said he was a freak and left her there all night bleeding.”

  “We need to speak to her,” I say.

  Rosy shakes her head no. “She won’t do it. She claimed he was powerful and threatened her life.”

  I take a deep breath. “Can you describe him to me?”

  Sonya begins depicting the man’s features and the couple of guys who were with him. The description matches that of Noah Sanders, so I pull out his photo.

  “Is this the man she left with?”

  The girls’ eyes expand. “Oh, my god, that’s him right there,” Sonya says.

  “Yep, that’s definitely him. Who is he?” Rosy asks.

  “I can’t disclose that at this time. I’m sorry. Here is my card. Please, convince her to meet with me. We can put her under protective custody, so he can’t touch her.”

  “OK, we’ll try. She’s going to flip over us going to the cops, but we couldn’t sit by and let this guy get away with it.”

  “I advice you not to share what happened with anyone else, and try to get her to talk,” I say.

  “Sure, and thank you. I hope you can nail this asshole. He better never show his face in this club again. Our bouncers will throw him out on his ass.”

  I simply give a slight smile and leave their dressing room. It sounds like Noah Sanders does as he pleases, and I doubt he’s going to let anyone get in the way of what he wants.

  “So, what do you think?” I ask Reggie once we’re in his car.

  “She has to press charges, or we can’t do shit. What is the likelihood of that happening?”

  “I don’t know. It all depends on what Noah said to her.” I rub my forehead when I feel the pulsing in my temple.

  “You alright?”

  “I’ve got a headache.”

  “And now you have to go to another job.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  He pulls out of the parking lot to the Executive Club and drives toward the station.

  “Please let that situation go,” he says.

  “Not yet.”

  “If we have to get heavily involved in a case against the Commissioner’s son, you aren’t going to be able to handle working another job.”

  “A lot of people have to work two jobs. I can do it for a while.”

  He doesn’t talk to me the rest of the way. I watch his hands securely grip the steering wheel, much like I watched Adrian’s do more than once.

  Adrian … I can’t get that man out of my head.

  Reaching over, I pat Reggie’s thigh. “Don’t be pissed. You’ve been around me long enough to know what my father means to me. I need you to understand why I’m doing this.”

  Reggie’s eyes flick down to my hand that is resting on his thigh. He picks it up and lays it on mine. “I understand why, but I don’t think it’s safe to be doing it alone.”

  I place my throbbing head against the window and close my eyes. Discussing this with him is pointless. He’s not going to approve of my actions.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Victoria

  With only fifteen minutes to spare, I enter the locker room at Hotel Submission and rush to a restroom to change into my uniform.

  My belongings are stuffed into my locker, and I hurry to a mirror to make sure I still look presentable.

  A pin comes loose from my wig and hits the floor, so I lean over to pick it up. Stars flash before my eyes upon rising, so I grab the counter for a few seconds, only seeing blackness.

  Shit, that hurts. Leaning my head over only created more pounding in my temples. I was in such a hurry; I didn’t have time to stop for pain reliever.

  My stomach feels queasy, and it hits me all at once that I haven’t eaten a single bite today. I drank a latte this morning, after Reggie picked me up, but that’s it.

  I swear Adrian has gotten me so worked up, I can’t think about anything else. It’s too late now, so I
will have to wait until I can take a break to grab something.

  Maybe Sebastian will let me steal a few cherries and orange slices from the bar to get me through this shift.

  ***

  It’s eleven o’clock, and I’m exhausted. I hit the ground running when I entered the Elite lounge at five-thirty and haven’t stopped since. Two more hours and I get to leave.

  Adrian is going to have to take a rain check. I’m too tired to see him. Maybe Kruse can tell him, so I can dodge a texting war.

  I glance around the room, and sure enough, I see the mysterious security guy off near a corner, keeping an eye on things.

  I also saw Simon once. His evident glare when we made eye contact told me he was still pissed I’m working in this area.

  Sebastian refills my tray, and I deliver another round of drinks, saving Rick’s for last. He’s Mr. Crooked Smile, and the guy has barely taken his eyes off of me. I can’t imagine he’s winning at poker this evening.

  He’s no Adrian Cassano, but the man is attractive. His table is between games when I set his glass of bourbon down.

  He’s talking to the gentleman next to him, so I start to walk away. Feeling a hand lightly wrap around my wrist, I stop.

  Rick is smiling and bending his finger when I turn, signaling me to come closer. He’s been nothing but polite since I met him, so I lean my ear down to his mouth.

  “You might want to wait for me to ask for my drinks. You’re going to spoil me or get me drunk.”

  Unsure of how to take his remark, I pull back enough to see his sexy grin. His hand slides from my wrist to my forearm, and he brings me in close again.

  I’m bent over, my rack on display for the entire table of men, so I pull my tray up to my chest.

  “Thank you for the drink, and I wanted to tell you that you’re the most beautiful woman in this room,” he adds. I move away only a little and smile at him.

  His ocean sand eyes search mine for a reaction, and maybe this guy could give me some insight into what goes on between the servers and men in this room.

  “Thank you. That’s flattering.” Warm fingers skim along the inside of my arm, his eyes locked on mine.

  Having had all the excitement I can handle for one night, I stand upright before this man has a chance to ask me to go home with him.

  Oh, shit. The room spins, and I can’t focus, seeing only spots of color …

  Adrian

  “I can’t watch this,” I mumble before stomping out of the office in my penthouse. I need to stop staring at these fucking cameras all damn day, especially when Victoria is working.

  Why does it even bother me that another man is hitting on her?

  Rick Jacobs. Other than tax evasion, the guy is straight. He’s single and one of the wealthiest men in the city.

  She’s been paying him a lot of attention this evening. Is it part of her master plan or genuine interest?

  Fuck, I hate this emotion. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt it, and it’s been a long ass day. I worked from noon until ten tonight, so I head to the bathroom to shower before Victoria arrives.

  As I shut the door, I hear my phone ring. It’s Kruse. “What do you need?” I ask without a hello.

  “I thought you’d want to know Vicky Stuart collapsed in the lounge. Simon and Shannon are checking her out now.”

  What the hell?

  “I just saw her on the cameras working.” While talking, I’m hustling back to my office.

  Sure enough, Victoria is on the floor. People are hovering over her, so I can only see part of her legs. “Find out if she needs an ambulance,” I bark into the phone.

  I watch as Kruse speaks to Shannon.

  “She’s waking up,” he says to me.

  “Then bring her to my penthouse.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. Bring her up here. I’ll call a nurse to take a look at her.”

  “But Simon—”

  “I’ll deal with my brother. Just do it.” I end the call before he can reply and watch as Shannon and Rick, the man who was just touching Victoria, help her up from the floor. As she starts to fall, Kruse steps in and catches her.

  Simon is right next to them, and I see him talking to Kruse. Simon looks pissed as he turns and says something near Shannon’s ear.

  In only seconds, he and Kruse are helping Victoria out of the room. Wanting police and ambulance services at this hotel and casino as little as possible, I pay to keep a small medical staff here. I call a nurse and request he come to the penthouse.

  Hearing the knocking on the door, I open it, ready for the earful I’m going to receive from my brother.

  “What the hell is going on? Don’t feed me any bullshit, either,” Simon says as he holds Victoria up on one side.

  “Get her in here and we’ll talk.”

  With Kruse assisting, he takes her to the sofa.

  “Oh, wait, would you prefer her be in your bed?” he asks sardonically.

  “Stop being a dick. Right here is good.”

  Victoria’s eyes open, and she mumbles something to the effect of being fine. She begins to sit up, but I lightly push her back onto the cushions.

  “Kruse, go watch for the nurse,” I say. Motioning for my brother to follow me, I walk into the kitchen and pull a glass from the cabinet.

  “You’re fucking her, aren’t you?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I haven’t slept with her.” I say this in an aggressive whisper, hoping he’ll take the damn hint to keep his voice down.

  “It’s my business when it has to do with our business. She works for you, and I’ve turned down more ass than I could count in this hotel because we agreed from the beginning that we wouldn’t fuck the staff.”

  Thinking of how to respond, I fill the glass up with water. When I turn, Simon’s hands are fisted by his hips.

  “God, you need to get a grip on your anger.”

  “Just say it. You like her.”

  His shaggy hair is messy, and his dark eyes are full of aggression. The grey dress shirt he’s wearing has been pulled partly out from his dress pants, probably from moving Victoria.

  He looks like he needs sleep, too. We’re way overdue for a long chat about his mental state, but now is not the time for it.

  “It’s not serious,” I say.

  “Then don’t see her.”

  I rub my forehead. “OK, I like her, but it’s nothing for you to be concerned with. Things change, and I want to see her.”

  “Whatever. You know I get a vibe about things, and something doesn’t feel right here.”

  “You’re paranoid. Go take care of your club, stop micromanaging Shannon, and don’t worry about my personal life.”

  “She better not be passed out in there because she’s using.” He’s pointing at me like he calls the shots, and I’d like nothing more than to put his ass on the ground. He’s pissing me off.

  “She’s not doing drugs.”

  “You’ve known her for how long to determine this?”

  “Get out. I’m a grown man and older than you, so I don’t have to listen to your shit.”

  Simon storms out, and I hurry to the living room to check on Victoria. She’s sitting up with her back against the arm of the sofa.

  Her legs are stretched out in front of her, and I want to cover her with my body. Instead, I hand her the glass of water. “How are you feeling?”

  “Awful, and this is so embarrassing. I’m sorry I’m causing problems between you and your brother. He seems to hate me.”

  “He doesn’t know you. He’s protective of our family and this business. It’s not personal.”

  She swings her legs around. “I’m going to go.”

  Stepping in front of her, I put my hands out.

  “You’re not going anywhere. A nurse is coming up to examine you.”

  “I have to get home and to bed. I need sleep.” She’s shaking her head no the entire time I’m attempting to lie her back do
wn.

  “Why are you so tired?” I already know the answer to this, but I want to hear her excuse.

  “Uh, I’ve not been sleeping well.” There’s a knock at the door, so I leave to answer it. Kruse is standing next to the male nurse who I have follow me to Victoria.

  She argues, but I ignore her and nod for the nurse to begin. Sighing, she finally lies back on the sofa.

  After he completes an examination, we find out her blood pressure is low, as well as her sugar level.

  The nurse insists she eat, rest and drink a lot of fluids. I’m seriously pissed that she’s been so careless with her health.

  Victoria hasn’t eaten all day and didn’t have dinner after I left her last night. She hasn’t even consumed a glass of water, only coffee, which is a diuretic.

  I feel a pang of guilt that she’s working two jobs because of me, and why in the hell do I give a damn?

  I’m fully aware she wants to uncover me doing something wrong, yet I can’t help but like the woman.

  I believe she feels the same toward me, and I guess that’s why I continue to allow myself to get closer to her.

  What if she’s a damn good actress? There are plenty of them in Vegas, putting on a front for their gain.

  After showing the nurse out and refilling the glass of water, I stick it out for Victoria to take.

  “Drink.”

  “Bossy much?” she asks. I push her legs over and sit on the edge of the couch next to her thigh.

  My finger moves a section of her blonde wig away from her face. Revealing a pin holding it on, I pull it out and search for the others, carefully removing them.

  She remains still as I pull off the wig and lay it on a table next to the sofa, along with the pins.

  My fingers comb through her sensuous curls, bringing them out to drape over her shoulders. Bumps rise on her arms, and I feel the bulge forming in my pants.

  “Why aren’t you taking better care of yourself? I watched you chow down on a burger, fries and milkshake the other day.”

  “I’ve been busy,” her eyes dart around the room, “and distracted.”

  “What’s distracting you?”

  “It’s not a ‘what’ but a ‘who.’”

  “I’m not a mind reader. You’re going to have to give me a little more to work with here.”