Allison Brennan - Killing Fear

That first night Theodore came into RJ’s, Robin knew something was different about him. Not a good different. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was that disturbed her, even when Bethany rushed up to her, flushed and excited.

Bethany was energized when her dance was over. She ran into the dressing room, her thong concealing little. Robin tossed her a silk robe and Bethany absentmindedly put it on, chattering, “He’s here again! Oh my God, Robin, he’s so gorgeous. And he tips so good.”

Robin frowned. “Are you talking about the guy you slept with last week?” Robin didn’t condone Bethany’s laissez-faire attitude about sex. At twenty-three, Robin was one of the oldest dancers, and she’d been working here for five years. She was the one who stood up to RJ when he was an asshole, she was the one who got raises for the girls and fought to reduce the house percentage of tips from fifty to a third. And she was the one to keep a watchful eye that the girls weren’t selling more than their dances.

Bethany was nineteen, beautiful, and had next to no common sense. She’d run away from Tulsa, Oklahoma, to L.A. when she was seventeen to be a star, got sidetracked to San Diego because of a jerk she met, and was practically homeless when she applied for a job at RJ’s. Robin had a soft spot for her.

“Bethany, I told you to be careful with the men you go home with. Most of these guys are okay, but you never know.”

“You have to meet him.”

RJ, a tall, skinny sixty-year-old man who looked eighty and had owned the club for thirtysome years, came in without knocking. “Robin, babe, you’re up and late.”

“I’m coming.”

“Move your ass!” He closed the door, unmindful of the women in various stages of undress.

Robin finished with her makeup as Bethany said, “He’s at table six. He’s over six feet tall-I love tall men-and really cute. Brown hair and the most incredible blue eyes you ever saw.”

Robin blocked Bethany’s voice, running through her routine in her mind. She was a dancer, an actress. She put on her public face: makeup accentuating her cat eyes, glitter adding sparkle to her dark red hair that she pinned up in what appeared to be loose curls, but which were held tight in place so as not to come undone during her vigorous, sexy dance.

Robin wasn’t the star-that was Brandi, who did extensive lap dances and played up to the audience. But Robin was technically the best dancer. She used her strength-her talent.

She couldn’t see the audience under the bright lights, which was more than fine with her. She danced her heart out, then left the stage. From the wings, she glanced at table six.

He stared directly at her. She couldn’t make out his features clearly, but he was attractive and well groomed. “An attorney,” Bethany had gushed, and Robin could see that.

She shivered. Even at this distance, his piercing blue eyes chilled her. He saw her looking at him, nodded his head. She turned away.

As soon as she had her cocktail costume on-that had been her last dance and she would wait tables for the rest of the night-Bethany pulled Robin onto the floor. Right to table six.

“Theodore,” Bethany said breathlessly, “this is my friend Robin. I just wanted her to meet you because she’s such a mother hen.”

Robin gave a reserved smile. Theodore extended his hand, and she accepted the gesture. His hand was solid and calloused, as if he worked or played outdoors. He was larger than she’d originally thought, solid upper body muscles, flat stomach, fancy clothes.

“Nice to meet you, Robin.”

“Likewise,” she mumbled, unable to tear her eyes from his. They unnerved her and she forced herself to keep the polite smile plastered on her face.

She didn’t like him. She couldn’t explain it, couldn’t find any flaw in his appearance or attitude, but she felt as if an entire army rippled under his perfect skin. The way he looked at Robin-with a familiarity even her few lovers hadn’t shown-deeply disturbed her.

“You’re an exceptional dancer,” he continued, a slight frown on his mouth telling Robin that he noticed her aloofness and did not approve.

“Thank you.” She bowed her head slightly, pasted on a brighter smile, and looked him in the eye. “I need to get to work. You understand. Have fun.” Robin hurried off.

Bethany left that night again with the creepy Theodore. Robin didn’t sleep well, and called her first thing in the morning. “Just want to make sure you got home all right,” Robin said, relieved.

“Of course, silly. Shhh.”

“What?”

“I have company. Whoops!” Bethany giggled. “Gotta go.”

Robin hung up, cold fear turning her stomach. She didn’t know why, she didn’t believe in premonitions or any of that nonsense, but something was wrong.

Over time, Robin’s fear dissipated. Theodore Glenn became a regular, always Wednesdays and Fridays. He dated a few of the girls, even Brandi, who was discerning about the men she slept with. Theodore Glenn was polite, smart, and attractive. He was a stripper groupie, and the girls all liked him. And even when he started going home with other women, Bethany never thought ill of him. By that time she had her sights set on another regular, an older man who Robin was certain was married. Bethany laughed that off as well.

Except for Robin, everyone liked Theodore Glenn. When he looked her way, she turned cold. Even if she couldn’t see him, she sensed his presence. Watching. Waiting-for what, she had no idea. She kept her distance and did her job and didn’t think too much about her initial reaction to Glenn until RJ called her in the middle of the night a year later and told her Bethany had been murdered.

Robin stared at the phone. “Dammit! It’s just another game to you, isn’t it? Call, you bastard.”

And even though she asked for it, when the phone rang Robin jumped.

Theodore heard the click when Robin picked up the phone. He smiled, picturing her. Maybe sitting in her bed, as it was still early and she was a night owl. What would she wear to bed? Sexy lingerie? Sweatpants? Nothing at all? Her hair would be mussed from sleep, though he doubted she’d slept much since the earthquake freed him.

That he was on her mind pleased him. It put him in control.

“I knew you would answer.”

“What do you want from me?”

Hanging up on him had been her fear, and he relished those two words-his voice speaking, “Hello, Robin”-had set her off. What power he had over her. Robin hadn’t changed. All kinetic action. He’d seen her energy when she danced, saw it in her paintings. Bold, brilliant art that seemed to move. She’d improved from when he’d known her seven years ago. During his time at the library yesterday he’d done some online research. Found out a lot about Robin McKenna and her achievements.

But she still feared him, and he would use that to his advantage.

“Did you miss me?”

“Go to hell.”

He laughed. Her verbal abuse certainly wouldn’t faze him. He expected it. Enjoyed it. “Hell would suppose that there is also a heaven, which I do not believe. You can’t have one without the other, though I find religious philosophy tedious. Life is what we make it, isn’t it? You’ve certainly made something out of your life.”

“What do you want ?”

Her voice rose, as she lost what little patience she had. “You know what I want, Robin.”

“I can’t read minds, and if I could I certainly wouldn’t choose yours. You’re sick and twisted and the cops are going to find you. You can’t hide forever.”