Oh, holy mother of god. My body practically vibrated with a combination of desire and frustration. But dammit, I kept my cool. “You would have,” I agreed silkily, “but you damn well missed your chance.”
And then, before either Tyler or the valet could make a move, I grabbed the handle and pulled the damn door shut.
Chapter Six
What the fuck? I mean, seriously. What the goddamn fuck just happened?
I leaned back, frustrated, against the soft black leather and glared daggers at the back of the head of the man who drove me.
Red. Tyler had said the guy’s name was Red, which presumably meant he was on Tyler’s payroll and not a random car company driver.
I considered letting Red do exactly what Tyler had instructed—take me home. But then I’d just have to get a taxi back to the Drake in the morning, since my car was still with the hotel valet.
More than that, though, I didn’t want to go home. I was antsy and edgy and even though I knew damn well that I was feeling the effects of Tyler tossing cold water all over my raging libido, I told myself that my frustration stemmed from the fact that he had completely fucked up my plan: Get in, get close, get the story on Amy.
I drew in a deep breath, the kind that was intended to remind myself why I’d come to this party in the first place. Not because I wanted in Tyler’s bed—although that was most definitely a significant perk—but because of Amy.
Just because Tyler slammed the door on me didn’t mean I had to slam the door on my goal.
I had a Plan B—and, although it was risky, in the grand scheme of things it wasn’t any more risky than getting naked with a man who the entire law enforcement community of the Midwest believed was a criminal. With a little luck, it might even work.
We were on Lake Shore Drive, so I leaned forward and told Red to circle back to Michigan Avenue. “I’m in the mood to walk,” I said. “You can just let me off anywhere.”
He looked dubious, but he didn’t argue, and I told myself that was a good sign. He dropped me off in front of Water Tower Place and I made a show of entering the mall. It wasn’t quite nine on a Saturday, so the center was still open and busy, and I loitered for a good ten minutes before exiting and returning to the street. I held out my hand and got lucky hailing a taxi.
And then I went to Destiny.
I’d been twice before, of course. The first time to scope the place out. To get a feel for it and, I’d hoped, to chat up the girls. But the staff hadn’t been open to gossiping about former employees, and I’d been just as unsuccessful when I’d tried to strike up a conversation in the parking lot.
The second time, I’d gone in and applied for a job. If the girls wouldn’t talk to strangers, they might talk to one of their own. That plan, however, had crashed and burned.
Now, though, I could play the Tyler card. And the beauty of it was that even if the whole thing backfired, I was still covered—all because Tyler left me high and dry in front of The Drake.
Still, my plan didn’t entirely still my nerves, and my heart was pounding when I paid the driver and exited the cab in front of Destiny’s unassuming entrance. I went inside, learned that women had no cover on Saturdays, and continued through the door that separated the alcove from the actual club.
I paused just inside the door to look around, pretending to be checking something on my phone. Since I’d been here before, I knew what to expect—the tables, each with a large, raised stage in the center. The girls dancing with poles. The men watching and drinking and tipping. And then tipping some more when the girls slid closer, giving them an up-close and personal view of either tits or ass, all in exchange for a few extra bills.
I bit back a smile, remembering how well Candy did on a good night back in her dancing days. Exhausting, but in the right club, dancing could be downright lucrative.