J. Kenner - Heated

He laughed, which really wasn’t what I was going for, and his smile was just a little too smug. “Oh, yeah,” he said, in a voice that burned like slow, smooth whiskey. “I’m going to like fucking you.”

Oh, holy mother of god. My body practically vibrated with a combination of desire and frustration. But dammit, I kept my cool. “You would have,” I agreed silkily, “but you damn well missed your chance.”

And then, before either Tyler or the valet could make a move, I grabbed the handle and pulled the damn door shut.

What the fuck? I mean, seriously. What the goddamn fuck just happened?

I leaned back, frustrated, against the soft black leather and glared daggers at the back of the head of the man who drove me.

Red. Tyler had said the guy’s name was Red, which presumably meant he was on Tyler’s payroll and not a random car company driver.

I considered letting Red do exactly what Tyler had instructed—take me home. But then I’d just have to get a taxi back to the Drake in the morning, since my car was still with the hotel valet.

More than that, though, I didn’t want to go home. I was antsy and edgy and even though I knew damn well that I was feeling the effects of Tyler tossing cold water all over my raging libido, I told myself that my frustration stemmed from the fact that he had completely fucked up my plan: Get in, get close, get the story on Amy.

I drew in a deep breath, the kind that was intended to remind myself why I’d come to this party in the first place. Not because I wanted in Tyler’s bed—although that was most definitely a significant perk—but because of Amy.

Just because Tyler slammed the door on me didn’t mean I had to slam the door on my goal.

I had a Plan B—and, although it was risky, in the grand scheme of things it wasn’t any more risky than getting naked with a man who the entire law enforcement community of the Midwest believed was a criminal. With a little luck, it might even work.

We were on Lake Shore Drive, so I leaned forward and told Red to circle back to Michigan Avenue. “I’m in the mood to walk,” I said. “You can just let me off anywhere.”

He looked dubious, but he didn’t argue, and I told myself that was a good sign. He dropped me off in front of Water Tower Place and I made a show of entering the mall. It wasn’t quite nine on a Saturday, so the center was still open and busy, and I loitered for a good ten minutes before exiting and returning to the street. I held out my hand and got lucky hailing a taxi.

And then I went to Destiny.

I’d been twice before, of course. The first time to scope the place out. To get a feel for it and, I’d hoped, to chat up the girls. But the staff hadn’t been open to gossiping about former employees, and I’d been just as unsuccessful when I’d tried to strike up a conversation in the parking lot.

The second time, I’d gone in and applied for a job. If the girls wouldn’t talk to strangers, they might talk to one of their own. That plan, however, had crashed and burned.

Now, though, I could play the Tyler card. And the beauty of it was that even if the whole thing backfired, I was still covered—all because Tyler left me high and dry in front of The Drake.

Still, my plan didn’t entirely still my nerves, and my heart was pounding when I paid the driver and exited the cab in front of Destiny’s unassuming entrance. I went inside, learned that women had no cover on Saturdays, and continued through the door that separated the alcove from the actual club.

I paused just inside the door to look around, pretending to be checking something on my phone. Since I’d been here before, I knew what to expect—the tables, each with a large, raised stage in the center. The girls dancing with poles. The men watching and drinking and tipping. And then tipping some more when the girls slid closer, giving them an up-close and personal view of either tits or ass, all in exchange for a few extra bills.

I bit back a smile, remembering how well Candy did on a good night back in her dancing days. Exhausting, but in the right club, dancing could be downright lucrative.

Right then, though, I wasn’t interested in the dancers, the men, or what was going on in the dark, secluded corners. Instead, all I wanted was to get to Tyler’s office.

I saw a door with a single window on the far side of the cavernous room, just to the right of the bar. It had a plaque on it, and though I couldn’t read it from where I stood, I guessed that it announced that what was beyond that door was limited to employees only.

I headed that way, put my hand on the knob, and pushed.

As I expected, the bartender called out to me. “Ladies’ room is over there,” he said, pointing back the direction from which I’d come.

“Thanks,” I said sweetly. “But I don’t need it. I’m just going to go wait for Tyler in his office.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Mmm-hmm,” I said, running my fingertips lightly over my collar bone. I hoped I looked just a little bit drunk and very sexed up. I hoped I looked like someone Tyler would take to the back room.

The bartender hesitated long enough to make me worry, and so I soldiered on. “I just left him at The Drake. He had to finish something up with Cole, but he told me to meet him here.” I upped the wattage on my smile. “He gave me pretty explicit instructions on where he wanted me to wait for him—and how he wanted me, um, dressed,” I added. Then I shrugged. “Call him if you want, but he should be here in thirty minutes at the latest.”

And then, with my heart pounding, I pushed through the door and into the hall.

I was guessing that the bartender wouldn’t call to confirm—at least not for another thirty minutes. By that time, I’d have already had the chance to search Destiny’s employee files. I hoped the files were in Tyler’s private office—I was assuming he had one—but if not I figured the main business office was down this hall, too.

I’d get in the files, see what information—notes, address, forwarding information—that Destiny had on Amy, and then escape through the back entrance. I’d undoubtedly have to deal with the fallout tomorrow, but at least I’d have the information.

Best case, I got outside clean and clear, then snagged a taxi at the nearby convenience store.

Worst case, the bartender called the cops on me, and I waited until they had me in the patrol car to tell them who I really was and beg them to give me a break for professional courtesy.

Frankly, I could live with either result. And the truth? I was looking forward to doing a little off-the-books snooping around. I wasn’t on the job, and the Fourth Amendment be damned. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the moment or because my blood was still humming with the memory of Tyler’s touch. All I knew was that I hadn’t been this revved in a long time.

I liked it.

Tyler’s office was on the left, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I found it unlocked. I entered, then turned the lock behind me. Just in case.

It was decorated simply. A wall of filing cabinets. A large, serviceable desk. Two guest chairs. And a small, but comfortable-looking sofa. One wall was dominated by a dry erase board covered with what looked like a rough schedule of employee shift times.

The rest of the walls were decorated with framed photos of buildings. Odd angles. Interesting arches. Skyscrapers straining towards the sky. They were all done in black-and-white, and each seemed to focus on some different architectural element. They were lovely, and though I never would have expected artwork like that in a place like Destiny, having met Tyler, I couldn’t deny that the photos seemed to fit.

Honestly, I would have liked to have spent some time looking at them. But duty called, and I headed to the filing cabinets. They were vertical metal cabinets, each with four drawers, so that each unit was almost as tall as me. The drawers were labeled simply with alphabetical notations, and I said a silent prayer that these were for Destiny and not his personal files.

I tugged on the drawer for D-F, figuring that it was my best bet since Amy could be filed under D for Dawson or E for employee.

The drawer, however, didn’t budge, and I noticed the locking mechanism near the top.

Damn.

I hurried back to the desk, and had just started to search for the key or something to pick the lock with when I heard the doorknob rattle.

I glanced at the clock—not even five minutes had passed—then shoved the desk drawer shut and ran around the desk, moving on my tip toes so that my heels wouldn’t click on the wooden floor. I heard the rattle of a key, then saw the deadbolt turn. The door started to move inward just as I leaped onto the desk, leaning back a bit to accentuate my breasts and then plastering on a smile that I hoped would convince the bartender I’d come here only to get down and dirty with Tyler.

Except it wasn’t the bartender.

It was Tyler himself.

“Well,” he said, stepping into the office, then locking the door behind him. “Isn’t this interesting?”

I crossed my legs, trying to ignore the cold wash of panic that had settled over me.

I reminded myself to be calm. That this scenario was covered by one of my contingency plans. But plans never felt quite the same in reality, and I was having to work hard to control my breathing.

“You pissed me off,” I said, with a husky edge to my voice. “I thought I’d come here and try to change your mind.”

“Did you?”

I cocked my head. “Greg called you, didn’t he? Told you I was here.”