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Only, there were no knickknacks. No framed pictures of Rafe with friends or family. Nothing personal.
She considered herself a fairly private person when it came to her work environment, but even she had an electronic photo frame on her desk with a slideshow of herself with her family.
She did find a stack of business cards with his name, cell phone and website URL typed below Once Bitten. She took one and stuck it in her purse.
The door opened and Claire jumped up as if she’d been caught snooping.
“Okay, I have a few minutes.” Rafe closed the door.
“You don’t need to be tending bar?” Was she changing her mind about asking him?
“My assistant manager showed up. She’s handling things for now. Tell me about this proposition.” He leaned a hip against the desk as if this was just a casual conversation, but his eyes were fixed on her with an interested gleam. “Sit.”
She sat back down slowly into the chair. While it had seemed a viable idea at the time, having to form actual words and say them out loud now seemed ludicrous. Perhaps she should leave it to the police.
Rafe folded his arms and raised his brows.
But while Sergeant Mulroney had said they would check out The Pit, the police were limited in their time and resources. They simply wouldn’t have the manpower to stake out that bar night after night waiting for Shadow to show up. And moreover, a police presence there might actually scare Shadow away.
“Claire?”
Jerked from her thoughts, she looked up into Rafe’s steel-gray eyes. “I want to hire you to—Well, as kind of a bodyguard, but more an advisor, you see, I don’t want to go alone, but I need to know for myself if Julia is there.”
“Hold on.” Rafe put up a hand. “Where are you talking about?”
“It’s a bar called The Pit.” Suddenly she wanted to tell him about her day. “I did it, Rafe.” She leaned forward, excited. “I found the lady that sold Julia’s necklace. And she said the guy that sold it to her—with the blood drops tattoo?—his name is Shadow and—”
“No.”
“No? No what?”
“I’m not going to The Pit. And you sure as hell aren’t.”
“If it’s your time, I can compensate you. I’m willing to give you five hundred an hour. You’re obviously the manager here, but if you need to call someone to work your shift…”
He’d begun shaking his head as soon as she mentioned the money.
“Seven-fifty an hour?” She was willing to pay whatever it took.
“Stop. It’s not the money. I don’t get involved in things like this. Call the cops.”
“Oh, the police?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why didn’t I think of that?” She grabbed her purse, stood and pushed her glasses up on her nose. Of course he didn’t get involved. What had she expected?
But he had gotten involved last night.
She moved to brush past him and gave him her most withering glare. “And while I’m at it, I’ll be sure to mention that this bar is the last place Julia was seen alive. I’ll show them the picture in my phone she sent of her standing out in front of your sign outside.” She reached for the doorknob.
“Hold on.”
She turned to face him and almost stepped back at the fury in his narrowed eyes. “You’re blackmailing me into helping you?”
She attempted a casual shrug of one shoulder, but the effect was ruined when her purse slipped and dropped to the crook of her arm. She raised her chin a notch. “I’ll do whatever it takes to find my friend.”
It took all her strength to remain composed while Rafe’s scowl darkened and his hands curled into fists. Oh, no. She’d gone too far.
But then his expression cleared. He crossed his arms over his chest. “All right. Here’s the deal. Tonight after my shift, I’ll go check out The Pit. I’ll watch for this Shadow guy and ask around. If I learn anything, I’ll call you tomorrow, hell, I’ll even call the police myself.”
She couldn’t believe it. She’d won. “That sounds great. Except I’m going with you.”
“No.”
“I’m perfectly capable—”
“No.”
“But I can identify Shadow.”
He let out a breath, half sigh, half growl. “Give me a description. You’d stand out like a vampire in a church.”
“Oh.” He was right.
He raised that infuriating brow again, as if to say, obviously I’m right. But she was far from defeated.
“What if I disguise myself? That way—”
“Look. That’s my offer. Take it or leave it.”
She frowned. Why didn’t he want her there? She understood about standing out, but if she could blend in, she should be safe enough. Was there some information he wasn’t disclosing? Was he even really going to go at all? Or just pop in and leave again? She sighed. How could she trust him when it could mean Julia’s life?
But at this point arguing would be counterproductive. “Very well. I’ll take it.”
He narrowed his eyes, studied her a moment. Then he pointed his finger at her nose. “And if I see you there our deal is off, you got it?”
She scowled. “I got it.”
4
WHY THE HELL HAD he agreed to do this?
Rafe sat in a back booth of The Pit nursing a double of bourbon and wincing at the punk rocker screaming his so-called song. And the stench of this place brought back memories of those early days on the streets.
It was a pungent blend of sweaty humans, spilt beer and piss. Not to mention the smell of burning pot and heroin. Yep, he’d once been right at home in a place like this.
His pappy had him drinking the hard stuff before he was thirteen, claiming he didn’t like to drink alone.
If it hadn’t been for ol’ Earl…
This wasn’t the time for reminiscing.
Rafe faced the front door, but so far no one fitting Shadow’s description had come in. He’d looked in the back room around the pool tables already with no sign of the guy there, either. Shadow could’ve been in earlier, or he could not show up for days. This was a waste of time.
Having the police question him might’ve been slightly irritating, but Rafe could’ve handled it. The truth was he was here because she challenged him. Dr. Claire Brooks.
A PhD? She looked like the mad scientist kind. But her dumpy clothes and thick glasses hid an intelligent and fierce personality. He had to admire her loyalty to a friend. And the guts it took to brave a strange city and strange people. And to blackmail him.
He smiled to himself.
Rafe scanned the room again, thinking that, if not for sheer luck, he could’ve turned out like any of the scum in this joint. He stopped scanning and his gaze returned to a black-haired woman sitting at a table with two guys.
Her tight black dress plunged so low in front her large breasts spilled out to overflowing. Creamy, soft, plump breasts. His body tensed.
Damn.
He shifted in the cracked Naugahyde seat to get comfortable in his jeans. What the hell? He hadn’t reacted this strongly to a set since he’d seen his first centerfold in a torn up Playboy he found in his pappy’s closet.
And her legs. The dress barely covered her. Even wearing dark black hose and black biker boots her legs looked as if they went on for miles. Making her the perfect height to take her from behind. How easily he could picture holding her hips while he pumped into her.
Rafael Moreau, you dog. You ‘re here to look for Shadow, not pick up a woman for the night.
One would think at thirty-four years of age he’d be past seeing women only as someone to get into his bed. But, he was what he was. At least he wasn’t draping himself all over her and pawing at her like the two jerks sitting on either side of her.
She was obviously trying to keep their wandering hands at bay. But what did she expect in a place like this dressed like that?
Her raven hair was teased and spiked to stand up every which way. She wore heavy makeup, thick black liner and eye shadow, black lipstick. Her wide eyes were a soft doe-brown…
She glanced in his direction and quickly looked away.
Dammit.
He shot to his feet and stalked over to her table, gripped Claire’s arm and hauled her to her feet. “What are you doing here?”
“Hey, man.”
“Leave her alone, dude.” The two men stood, taking up menacing stances. They stepped closer and Rafe could see their dilated, bloodshot eyes.
So he had called it right the first night he saw her. She was trouble. Well, he damn sure wasn’t backing down from a couple of punks. He smiled at goon number one. “I’ll give you one chance to leave peaceably.”
Goon number one snickered. “What you gonna do, old man?” He raised his fist, but before he could make contact Rafe punched him in the throat. The goon grabbed his neck and doubled over, choking.
“Rafe!” Claire tried to pull her arm free from his grasp, but he held on while he faced goon number two.
The second goon held up his hands palms out and backed away. “I’m good.” He grabbed his still-choking pal and they scurried out the front door like the rats they were.
Rafe turned his scowl on Claire.
A split second of chagrin crossed her features before she raised her chin in that way that signaled she was bolstering her courage.
“I warned you if you came here the deal was off.”
He stalked back to the booth, grabbed his jacket and shoved his arms in the sleeves.
“Rafe.” She stood in front him, blocking his exit. “I apologize, but I—”
“But, nothing.” He sidestepped toward the door.
“I’d hoped that if I wore a disguise so I fit in, then I could also look for Shadow.”
“Fit in? In that?”
She flinched.
He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth. He never raised his voice. But she’d been better off when she’d hid that body beneath the nerdy clothes. He cursed under his breath, turned and gulped down the rest of his bourbon, getting himself under control.
Those big brown eyes, just seconds ago full of defiance, were squinting. And she was biting her thumbnail.
Aw, hell. “Sit down.” He resumed his seat.
She sat opposite him, her breasts jiggling as she scooted in.
He gritted his teeth and willed his gaze away from all that flesh. “Where are your glasses?”
“In my purse.” She gestured to a small black bag slung from one shoulder across the other side of her body.
“Put them on.”
She dug in her purse and slipped on the rectangular tortoise-shell frames.
He studied her, trying to find the frumpy woman from earlier today in the dark seductress sitting across from him. The thick lenses made her eyes look smaller. But they were the same soft brown. And the same directness stared back at him.
“No contacts?”
She shook her head. “Allergies.” She sniffed as if just saying the word made her congested. He steeled himself against finding that cute.
“Those jerks could’ve had weapons.”
“I know.”
“I could’ve been killed.”
She bristled. “I was doing fine until you came over and grabbed me.”
“The hell you were!”
Her shoulders slumped. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Damn. She took the wind right out of his righteous sails.
“I don’t blame you if you want to leave.”
