Kat Martin - Against the Night

“What happened to Kyle? Did you call the police? Oh, my God, I could lose my teaching job.”

“You could lose your job if someone back home finds out you’ve been working at the Kitty Cat Club. But you don’t have to worry. I handled Bennett myself and no one knows you were ever there.”

She glanced at the biceps bulging beneath his T-shirt, thought of what might have happened if one of those powerful arms had connected with Bennett’s face, and her eyes widened. “What…what did you do to him?”

Johnnie grunted. “Nothing permanent—unfortunately. But the police found him naked and handcuffed in a bedroom full of kinky sex toys, so I don’t think you’ll be seeing him at the club for a while.”

Kinky sex toys? Her stomach rolled. If Johnnie hadn’t gone with her, Kyle would have been using them on her while she had been unconscious.

“I need to get up,” she said, feeling suddenly sick. “I have to use the bathroom.”

Johnnie reached down and took her arm, helped her sit up and swing her legs to the side of the bed, but the minute she tried to stand, nausea hit her.

“Oh, God.” Clamping a hand over her mouth, she bolted for the bathroom, bent over and threw up what little there was in her stomach. Her hands were shaking as she flushed the toilet. She washed her hands, then cupped water in her palm and rinsed her mouth. In the mirror above the sink, she saw Johnnie standing behind her in the open doorway. He pulled a washcloth off the towel rack and handed it over.

“Wash your face. You’ll feel better.”

Amy took the cloth from his hand, waited until he stepped back, and then closed the door. The last thing she wanted was for John Riggs to see her being sick.

Fortunately, the cool cloth helped. By the time she came out of the bathroom, she felt a little better. Johnnie was waiting, one thick shoulder propped against the wall a few feet away.

He shoved off and came toward her. “You’re getting a little color back in your face. Feeling any better?”

She nodded, but sank back down on the edge of the bed. “If you hadn’t been with me, Kyle would have raped me.” She looked up as another thought struck. “Do you think he did that to Rachael?”

“Babs said Rachael dated him a few times. Your sister had been working at the club for a couple of years. She was probably too savvy to fall for Bennett’s tricks.”

“Unlike me,” Amy said glumly.

“You’re a schoolteacher, honey. You’ve never been around guys like that. At least you found out what you’re up against. You can let me handle things from here and—”

“Wait a minute!” She shot up off the bed, felt a jolt of pain in her head and sank back down. “You don’t think this changes anything? I’m finding my sister, Johnnie. I’m not letting some weirdo like Kyle Bennett keep that from happening.”

“Listen to me, Amy. You’re in way over your head with this. What happened today should have shown you that.”

She bit her lip. “Maybe Bennett killed her. Maybe he drugged her and something went wrong. Maybe she died and he had to get rid of her body.” Imagining her sister dead, she felt a sweep of pain mixed with anger. Amy steeled herself against it. “It’s possible, isn’t it?”

“Anything’s possible. Look, I’ve got a friend in the homicide department, Detective Vega. I’m hoping he’ll let me take a look at your sister’s missing persons file. I’ll find out what the police know about Bennett’s involvement with Rachael, and find out who else they might be looking at in regard to her disappearance.”

She nodded, careful not to move too fast. “All right, that sounds like a good idea.”

“I probably shouldn’t encourage you, but if it makes you feel better, you got a name from Bennett before you passed out.”

“I did?”

“Kenny Reason. He’s a disc jockey over at Rembrandt’s.”

“Rembrandt’s? I don’t think I’ve heard of it.”

“It’s a nightclub, not a strip joint, fairly upscale clientele. Bennett said your sister dated Kenny for a while.”

“She must not have mentioned it to Babs. Maybe Mr. Reason will know something that will help.”

“Maybe.” Johnnie glanced down at his watch. “It’s getting late. If you’re feeling well enough, I’ll take you home. If you’d rather, you can spend the night in my guest room.”

Amy shook her head. “I need to go home.”

Johnnie didn’t argue. This was one time sex didn’t seem to be on either of their minds. Spotting her purse on the dresser, she rose carefully from the bed, walked over and picked it up. “Whenever you’re ready.” She slung the purse strap over her shoulder. “I really appreciate what you did today. There’s no way I can ever thank you enough.”

A hot gleam appeared in his eyes. “Our business isn’t finished. The next time you’re in my bed, honey, I promise you won’t be sleeping.”

Eight

Johnnie called Rick Vega first thing Friday morning and the detective agreed to meet him at the station. As she had the day before, Gwen Michaels sat behind the front desk. When she spotted Johnnie walking toward her, she smiled.

“Vega is expecting you,” Gwen said. “You know where to find him.”

“Thanks, Gwen.” Heading down the hall, he waved to a couple of beat cops he knew, turned the corner and pushed through the doors of the detective bureau. The place was well lit, lined with rows of desks, each with its own computer, and always humming with activity as cops came and went. Rick motioned him over and Johnnie sauntered in his friend’s direction, then sat down in the chair beside the desk.

“Heard you were in here looking for me yesterday. I meant to call, but things got crazy.” Vega was handsome as sin, about the same height as Johnnie, with gleaming black hair slicked back from his face and smooth dark skin, a bachelor who spent too much of his paycheck on the perfectly tailored suits he liked to wear.

“Not a problem.”

“Must be important if you’re back again today.”

“I need a favor, Rick.”

Vega scoffed. “So what’s new?”

Before he’d been promoted to detective in the homicide division, Rick had been his sister Katie’s partner, which was how he and Rick had become such good friends.

“I need to take a look at a file. Girl reported missing a little over six weeks ago. Name’s Rachael Brewer. She worked over at the Kitty Cat Club.”

Vega frowned. “Brewer…Brewer…that name sounds familiar.”

“At the club, she used the name Silky Summers,” Johnnie added.

Rick shoved up from his chair and walked over to speak to Mitch, a balding older guy, who after a departmental shake-up had just been reassigned as Vega’s new partner. Mitch said something and Rick headed back to his desk, his strides long and confident, not a wrinkle in his perfectly pressed navy blue suit.

Nine

On the way back to the club, Amy wandered along Sunset into a couple of trendy dress shops. The boutiques were designed for young women, the prices on the top edge of affordable. The clothes—lots of black leather and lace, short skirts and plenty of bare skin—were hardly her style, but it was fun to look.

A hot little number caught her eye. At home, she would have been embarrassed for anyone to catch her admiring it, but this was California. She was a different person here, freer, more open to new ideas. Eventually, she would go back to being the simple, conservative young woman she was before, but for now, for this one brief moment in time, she was Angel Fontaine and she could do anything she pleased.

She went home with the sexy black outfit tucked in a Mitzy’s Boutique shopping bag, wondering if she would ever wear it.

As she walked back into the club, she spotted Johnnie sitting at the bar, his intense gaze finding her all the way across the room. He looked dark and rugged and amazingly handsome, and her stomach lifted alarmingly.