“And arrogance too.”
He pecks my lips. “That’s why you like me.”
“Love you,” I correct.
Guilt flickers in his eyes, but it’s gone so fast it might’ve been just my imagination.
Hooking his fingers into the towel where the edges are folded over each other in the center of my breasts, he tugs me closer. “Before we have breakfast, there’s something else I want to eat.”
I should stop him, knowing Noah is waiting, but the protest dies on my lips when he yanks the towel open and lets it drop to the floor. Before he can reach for me, I unwrap the towel around his waist and go down on my knees.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
Dante
* * *
The fingerprint comes back with a match. It belongs to a dancer, Naomi Foster, who goes by the stage name of Oxo. Or 0X0 as in noughts and crosses. What do I know? She’s been arrested a couple of times for prostitution. Her file states she works at a strip joint in a shady part of town.
As I left Ulysses in charge of the guards at the house, I summon Reino. Since the incident with Tatiana at the pool and what we’ve learned about the explosion, I’ve kept Kent at arm’s length. He’s got orders to oversee the smaller businesses in a different part of the city. To be on the safe side, I had his phone tapped. So far, he’s being a model employee.
I brief Reino in the car on the way. The club owner has an agreement with Sav. The manager meets us in person. The club may be dingy and smell of stale smoke, but the manager is as fresh as a daisy and decked out in a three-piece Armani suit. He carries his slim frame with an air of dignity and elegance.
I show him the photo of Oxo or 0X0 that my hacker pulled from the police records. “We need to speak to her. I understand she works here.”
“Oxo?” He smooths down his tie. “She hasn’t showed up for the last three weeks.”
“Do you know where she lives?”
He takes an inhaler from his pocket and sucks hard enough on the mouthpiece to make it appear as if he’s trying to empty it. When he’s done, he meets my gaze with teared-up eyes and says in a voice that sounds as if he’s holding his breath, “She’s a freelancer.”
“I take it that means you don’t keep records of home addresses.”
He coughs. “Sorry, no. Only telephone numbers. The freelancers aren’t obliged to divulge the information as they don’t sign employment contracts.” He beats a fist on his chest and clears his throat. “Not that it means much. The girls move around, if you know what I mean. They never think about updating their information. It’s pointless to try and keep up.” He waves over one of the waitresses. “I’ve left messages for Oxo since last week, but she hasn’t called back. I can give you her number.”
A half-naked woman with blond braids saunters up. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thanks,” I say, barely glancing at her. “The phone is dead. We traced it to a trashcan a block from here.”
The blonde steps in front of me. “Maybe something else?” She bats her eyelashes and looks me up and down. “A private lap dance? I have several routines that you may like.” She glances at Reino. “Your friend is welcome too.” She adds with a sultry smile, “Two for the price of one.”
“No.” I show her my ring finger. “Thanks.”
The manager catches her eye and tilts his head toward the bar. When she’s left with a finger-wave, he asks, “Is she in trouble? Oxo.”
“Maybe.”
“She’s not a bad girl.” His brow creases. “Not very picky when it comes to private customers, but she knows how to keep them happy.”
“I need a list of your customers, regulars and non-regulars.”
“I already told Sav I can give him our security camera recordings. We have one at the front entrance and one by the back door. Most of our customers pay cash, but you’re welcome to go through our card payment records.”
Reino takes his phone from his pocket and shows the manager the photos of the mercenaries. “Do they look familiar?”
The man squints at the screen. “Can’t say they do. They’re definitely not customers here.”
