Against The Night Part 2

"Good idea." Babs yawned again. "In the meantime, turn out the light. We both need to get some sleep."

Amy thought of the conversion she needed to have with Johnnie Riggs. She closed her eyes, but she couldn't fall asleep.

Three.

Johnnie arrived at Cisco's Cantina a little after eleven the following night. The bar, decorated in a south of the border style with cactus painted on the walls and leather-covered tables and chairs, was crowded. The clientele was mostly white-collar, lawyers and secretaries, corporate types and office a.s.sistants, a lot of men in designer jeans. The drinks were only moderately expensive and at this time of night, the lights were turned low.

Johnnie was there to meet DEA special agent Kent Wheeler, who had been working for years to build a case against a high-level drug dealer named Carlos Ortega, one of the major players in the San Dimas cartel. Over the years, Johnnie and Wheeler had helped each other a number of times and tonight was no exception.

"I appreciate your call," Wheeler said, joining him at the bar, a lean, athletically built man with slightly receding brown hair and a pale complexion. Johnnie had left a message on the agent's cell phone that he had information Wheeler might need. "What have you got?"

"Might be nothing, but my guy's pretty reliable. I had Ty Brodie helping me with surveillance on a guy whose wife wanted to find out if he was cheating. According to Ty, turns out the husband wasn't s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around. He's into some major s.h.i.+t with the San Dimas cartel."

Wheeler whistled softly. "Got a name?"

"Joseph Pandaro. Ty picked up on some of the guy's conversation with a couple of lowlifes down at The Cave. Heard them talking about a big load of c.o.ke coming into the San Pedro docks the end of the month."

Wheeler was nodding. "We've been hearing rumors, nothing specific."

"He didn't get a date, but it's sometime in the next few weeks."

"Anything else?"

Johnnie shook his head. "I pulled the kid off the case. He's ex-military, tough as nails, but he doesn't have the street savvy to deal with thugs like those."

Wheeler took a sip of his drink, nearly as untouched as Johnnie's beer. "Thanks, I really appreciate the info."

"Just remember where you got it. I may need a favor sometime."

It was quid pro quo, and both of them knew it. As a GS-13, the highest rank in the DEA, Wheeler was a powerhouse and dedicated to the service. At the moment, Johnnie didn't need anything from him, but there would likely be a time when he would.

From Cisco's, Johnnie climbed into his black Ford Mustang G.T. and fired up the powerful V-8 engine. He'd just bought the car, his pride and joy, a couple of months ago, black leather interior, 412 horsepower, 5.0 engine. Plus, he'd had a mechanic friend of his soup it up even more. The beast could really move. The car and his Harley Sportster helped him do his job and have a little fun while he was at it.

He eased the car into the traffic moving down Sunset, taking in the crowds prowling the sidewalks and the laughter and music spilling out of the clubs crowded together on each block. He wasn't ready to go back to his apartment up the hill. Not yet.

His destination lay ahead. Just past La Cienega, he turned into the parking lot next to the Kitty Cat Club and slipped the car in one of the empty s.p.a.ces. There was something he needed inside and it wasn't a bottle of beer. Though he'd probably have to settle for that again tonight.

He climbed out of the Mustang, locked the car and sauntered toward the door leading into the club. The music was blasting, a steady hard-rock beat. The redhead he had seen the other night was dancing onstage. He glanced around, spotted his quarry even before he reached what was lately becoming his regular table at the back of the room.

Angel's gaze collided with his and she nearly dropped her tray. d.a.m.n, she was cute. Johnnie winked at her and smiled, sat down at the table, leaned back and waited.

Amy forced her legs to keep moving. She felt like an idiot. One glance at the man in the snug black T-s.h.i.+rt and she turned into a b.u.mbling fool. As she walked past Babs, her friend raised a hand and wiggled the tips of her fingers.

"Still owe me that five bucks, kiddo. Tonight, I intend to collect."

"Okay, I owe you, but that doesn't mean he's here tonight for me."

Babs just rolled her eyes and kept walking. Riggs was sitting in Amy's section. There was no way to avoid him. She took a calming breath, forced a note of cool into her demeanor and started toward his table in the back.

She pasted on a smile. "Welcome back to the Kitty Cat Club, Mr. Riggs. What would you like to drink?"

A corner of his mouth edged up. He had the s.e.xiest mouth. "You know my name. That means you asked. That's good. It's even better if you call me Johnnie."

Her mouth went dry. "Johnnie. All right, what can I get for you...Johnnie?"

"Bud Light." His gaze slowly took in every inch of her body. Her stomach swirled as she turned and walked toward the bar to get his beer. She delivered drinks to a table on her way to his, then set the Bud Light bottle down in front of him.

"Thanks." He tipped his head toward a girl named Ruby, who gyrated in a G-string, performing a lap dance for a customer sitting at a table not far away from his. "You do lap dances?"

Amy's hand trembled and she had to take a better grip on her tray. "No...I'm, uh, I'm kind of new at this." Tate had suggested she wait until she was more comfortable with the customers. Her plan was not to do them at all.

"That so...? How about doing one for me?" He was leaning back in his chair, those powerful arms crossed over his ma.s.sive chest. He could have been wearing sungla.s.ses for all she could read in those dark, dark eyes.

"They...umm...cost fifty dollars," she said, hoping the price would dissuade him.

"Private costs seventy-five. That's what I want."

Her breath stalled. "That's a lot of money." The dancer got a percentage, a way to make extra cash.

"Think you're worth it?"

"I don't...don't know..."

His smile came slow and easy and it made her skin feel hot. "Oh, yeah," he said. "I think you'd be worth every dime."

Her legs were shaking. "Even...even if I said I would, you know you can't touch me." There were rules about what she could and couldn't do, how far she was allowed to go. What the customer could and couldn't do. She wasn't a prost.i.tute, after all, she was a dancer.

Well, actually, she was a kindergarten teacher, but he didn't know that.

"I'll talk to Tate, arrange for a private room." He slid back his chair and stood up. Even in six-inch heels, she had to look up at him.

When he started to leave, she grabbed his arm. "Wait a minute. I-I didn't say I'd do it."

His mouth edged up. "What's the matter? You aren't afraid, are you?"

She stiffened. Of course she was afraid. She was terrified. But she wasn't about to let him know. "No, of course not."

"Good." He turned and started walking. As he sauntered off toward the owner, Amy stared after him.

Oh, my G.o.d! She was going to do a lap dance for Johnnie Riggs! And the weirdest part was, deep down in her womanly core, she wanted to do it.

Johnnie took a seat in one of the comfortable rooms the club provided for private dances. For seventy-five bucks, he got three songs. He wasn't sure he could handle one.

The truth was, he had never bought a lap dance in his life. Watching a naked woman parade around in front of him just didn't cut it, not unless he was taking her to bed.

But there was something about this particular woman. He wanted her. More than he could remember wanting a woman in a very long time. Maybe ever. He had a feeling it wasn't going to happen-not without a great deal of trouble.

He was pus.h.i.+ng her b.u.t.tons, he knew. She wasn't comfortable dancing for him. h.e.l.l, she wasn't comfortable just being in the room with him, and yet he had a hunch the only way to reach her was to push her hard enough to cave.

So he walked into the small, dimly lit room he had paid for and sat down in the only piece of furniture inside, an overstuffed mauve velour chair. He took a long swallow on the fresh beer he'd picked up at the bar then set the bottle down on the table built into the arm. Leaning back, he made himself comfortable and prepared to watch the show.

"You're kidding, right?" Babs stood with Amy outside the door to one of the private lap dance rooms. She had changed back into her red sequined G-string and the red sequined pasties that covered her nipples, proper attire for the show.

"It's just a dance," she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. "We need this man's help. I'm going to dance for him and then I'm going to see if I can hire him to help us."

Babs stood there in her s.h.i.+ny blue wig, the fake hair thick, straight, blunt-cut and just a little longer than her own dark hair. She planted her hands on her hips, a thoughtful look in her eyes.

"Actually, it's not a bad idea. Nothing's going to happen. Tate's got cameras in there. He gets out of line, you just yell, Bo Jing comes in and it's over."

"I don't think he'll get out of line." She wasn't sure why she felt that way, she just did.

"He's a pretty cool customer, all right. I can't see him turning into a l.u.s.t-crazed maniac. On the other hand, sometimes the quiet ones are the ones you have to watch."

"I'll keep that in mind." But as she walked into the room and spotted John Riggs in the chair positioned in front of the fake parquet dance floor, her mind went completely blank and she couldn't think of anything at all.

One of his big hands curled around the beer bottle sitting on the built-in table. He watched every move she made as she approached, but he didn't get up from his chair.

"Just so you know, this is a first for me, too."

That surprised her. "Really?"

"Really."

"Why me?"

He took a sip of his beer. "You intrigue me. I want to take you out. I'm hoping once you realize how harmless I am, you'll agree."

He didn't look harmless. He looked like a big, lazy cat ready to pounce at any moment. She thought of the help she needed to find her sister. In the time she had been in the club, she hadn't accomplished much. Getting an appointment with that cheese-ball Kyle Bennett was the only real progress she had made.

The music started just then, saving her from having to make some sort of comment. She took a few steps away from him, turned her back and tried to fill her head with the heavy beat of the music, the thud of the ba.s.s, the rhythm of the drum, tried to relax.

It was a lot harder to perform in here than onstage, a lot more difficult to block out the image of John Riggs watching her every move when she knew exactly what he was thinking. Knew he was here because he wanted her in his bed.

The music swelled. She let her head fall back, felt her long straight hair brush against her bottom. Instead of blocking him out of her mind, she decided to go with it, set her s.e.xuality free, dance for Johnnie Riggs, a man who attracted her physically as no one ever had.

She slid her hands into her hair and lifted it away from the back of her neck, turned toward him, let the hair slide down around her shoulders. His face was partially hidden in shadow, but she could see his eyes, read his hunger.

She moved toward him, stopped just inches away. Her breath rushed in and out, hot and sharp. She closed her eyes, let the music take over, arched her back, thrust out her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and began to sway. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel him, feel the powerful l.u.s.t he barely contained. Her body heated, softened, silently responded.

Dear G.o.d, she had never felt anything like it. She undulated, lifted her hair, turned and let it glide down her back, then spun away.

A few beats later, she sat down on his lap facing him, reached up and ran her hands down the sides of his face. She could feel the late night stubble along his jaw and it drove her crazy. He was hard beneath her, iron hard inside his jeans, and throbbing. For an instant, she couldn't breathe.

She forced herself up, forced her body to move away, to fall back into the dance. She spun and s.h.i.+mmied, then returned to his chair. She sat down facing him again, her legs splayed over his. Something s.h.i.+fted inside her, loosened, expanded, and desire took over. When she draped her arms around his neck, the last of her inhibitions slipped away. Amy leaned forward and kissed him, just a soft melding of lips. It was against the rules to kiss a client during a lap dance and yet she did it again, another soft brush of lips that only made her want more.

Every muscle in his body felt rigid beneath her and yet the only thing that moved was the hot mouth gliding over hers, the lips that began to take instead of leisurely accept. She opened her mouth and his tongue slid inside, and the next thing she knew, his arms were around her, crus.h.i.+ng her against him, the kiss blazing hot, deep and erotic.

His hand found her breast and the heat of his palm engulfed the fullness. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. A little whimpering sound came from her throat, and in some deep part of her mind, sanity began to return. Johnnie kissed her again, long and hard, and fear hit her. G.o.d in heaven, what was she doing?

Trembling all over, Amy broke the kiss. Her heart was pounding with a combination of desire and embarra.s.sment. She had never behaved so insanely. And she had never wanted anything more than Johnnie Riggs.

For an instant their eyes locked, his hot and dark, hers wild and frightened. Then the oddest thing happened. Johnnie came out of the chair with her still in his arms and set her back on her feet.

At the same instant, the music ended, the silence in the room a second splash of cold water hitting her squarely in the face.

"Oh, my G.o.d," she said, backing away from him. "Oh, my G.o.d." She turned, started to run for the door. Johnnie caught her wrist, turning her toward him before she could escape.

"Easy, honey. Just take it easy."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't...I don't know what happened."

"It's all right," he soothed as if she were a frightened child. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"I'm sorry," she said again because she had broken the rules and she didn't understand how it had happened. He led her back over to the chair he had been sitting in only moments before and urged her down in the seat.

"We need to talk," he said, "but this isn't the place. What time do you get off work?"

She started shaking her head.

"Listen to me, Angel. We'll go out and have some coffee. I promise we won't do more than talk, all right?"

Her nerves settled a little. This is the opportunity you've been wanting, she reminded herself. The chance to tell him about her sister and see if he would be willing to work out some sort of arrangement to help her. "I have to go back to work," she said lamely.

"When does your s.h.i.+ft end?"

"I'm...I'm on the early s.h.i.+ft tonight. I get off at eleven."

He nodded. "Good. That's good. I'll be waiting in the parking lot when you come outside."

She just stared at him. Johnnie caught her chin and tipped it up, forcing her to look at him. She felt like crying and didn't know why.

"Just coffee. I give you my word."

Her throat ached. She had no idea why she believed him, but she did. He was a Ranger, wasn't he? Surely Rangers didn't lie. "All right."

He bent and kissed her cheek. "I'll see you at eleven." He didn't say more, just left her there and quietly slipped outside the room.

Babs hurried in after him. Amy was still sitting in the chair. "Jesus, what happened? You look sh.e.l.l-shocked."

Amy blinked to keep from crying. "I don't know what happened. I completely lost control."

"He didn't...Riggs didn't..."