But there was something in the air, some unknown danger that strummed my nerves.
My phone pinged, and I snatched it up with a shaking hand.
A text message in all caps appeared when I swiped.
MOVE THE MICROPHONE OUT FROM YOUR TITS. I’M TIRED OF HEARING THEM RUB TOGETHER. WE WON’T BE ABLE TO HEAR A DAMNED THING ANYONE SAYS.
Bastard.
I reached into the top of my dress and adjusted the wire so it was attached to the edge of my bra instead of between my breasts.
I grabbed my red purse with the Santa face on the front and slung the gold strap over my shoulder before checking my reflection in the mirror and adding a bit more lipstick.
My heels bit into the gravel when I made my way across the parking lot, but I’d spent enough time in them to know how to balance in shit situations.
I grinned at the tall man guarding the door.
He looked me over, a smirk lifting one side of his mouth.
“You look good enough to eat, sweetheart.” He swept the door open. “Come see me if you get bored.”
Damn.
Too bad he wasn’t one of the three men on the dossier.
If they were even half as polite as the bouncer, this would be a piece of cake.
My smile turned from forced to genuine.
I patted his chest as I passed, fully committing to the bar vibe.
“Tell you what, handsome, come look me up when you finish your shift.”
The sights and sounds of the club hammered me from every side when the door closed behind me.
Outside, it had been cold enough to see my breath.
Inside, I was grateful I’d chosen a sleeveless red dress that ended at my knees and had forgone a coat of any sort.
Men and women filled the cavernous space.
Metal rock music pumped out from speakers that bookended the dancefloor where a dozen or more couples gyrated in a mimicry of sex more than they danced.
I swept the place with a critical detective’s eye.
The men I needed to find were nowhere in sight.
Frustration tightened my hand around my purse strap, and the gold chain bit into my palm.
I took a steadying breath and wove my way around the tables until I reached the bar.
More than one male gaze ran the length of my body.
One guy stood and followed me to the bar, leaning his elbow on the gleaming wood surface when I slid onto the stool and crossed my legs.
The move hiked my dress to mid-thigh. I considered pulling it down, but why bother?
I wasn’t Detective Noelle Hart tonight.
