Charlie had found it impossible to sleep the night before. She’d tossed and turned, her mind too busy worrying that Vince would have another nightmare to truly fall into a deep sleep. And in the scant few seconds she managed to stop distressing about that, her thoughts leaned in the direction of their argument—and the wall interlude.
She still wasn’t sure how that had happened, or how she’d managed to stay conscious after what was easily the best orgasm she’d ever had. The best, and it was handmade—pun intended. Now that the memory was hers to tuck away for cold, lonely nights, she and Vince could get back to business—and coffee.
Luckily for her, this morning linked them both together.
Sarah Yingst, the young twenty-two-year-old Miami barista who’d witnessed her friend’s kidnapping the night before, was, curiously, already back at work.
Catering to both tourists and the social elite, Brewed Awakenings boasted not only the best domesticated coffee in the city, but international roasts too. The line escaped the shop’s front door, making those at the end stand out in the ridiculous Miami heat.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Vince adjusted his sunglasses, and glared at the long line. “There’s a million coffee shops around here. What makes this place so freaking special that half the goddamned city’s here?”
“They serve kopi luwak coffee.”
Vince aimed his sunglasses her way. “Did you just fucking swear at me?”
“Do you know what kopi luwak is, Navy?” She couldn’t help but tease.
“Coffee, I’m guessing.”
“Expensive coffee. Coffee made from a bean that’s partially digested by an Asian civet.” At his continued blank stare, she added, “It’s a catlike weasel.”
“So basically, the coffee here is literally shit coffee and everyone’s insane.”
Charlie laughed at his horrified expression, linking her arm through his. It was an automatic reflex and, as soon as she started to pull away, he locked it in place by pulling her closer. At her questioning look, he shrugged one broad shoulder. “We’re on constant display. Eyes everywhere.”
Right. Their cover. They needed to touch, sometimes to an extensive degree. But one thing that didn’t necessarily need to happen was the ease with which it came. Leaning against him and joking around felt…comfortable.
But she couldn’t afford to dive into hidden meanings.
“When we get up there, let me talk to Sarah,” Charlie requested. The line moved another couple of feet.
“Okay…but why?”
“Because I’m me and you’re…” She ran her gaze up and down his massive body, pausing at the tattoo-covered arms she secretly lusted over. “Well, to put it bluntly, you’ll scare the girl mute.”
Vince bristled. “I’ll have you know that I’m a very approachable person.”
Charlie’s laugh ended with a snort. “Approachable like a skunk. Wait, no. You smell too good to be a skunk. A cobra maybe. Or a rattlesnake.”
“You think I smell good?” Vince’s lips twitched.
Yes. “No,” she lied before shutting her mouth and pretending not to hear the jerk chuckle.
With twelve baristas manning the counter, the line moved fast. Thirty minutes after their arrival, Charlie placed their orders for two coffees—sans Asian civet droppings. Sarah Yingst stood at the register, her long, dark hair and blue eyes identifiable from the photo Logan had emailed the night before.
“That’s twelve-fifty.” Sarah extended her hand for the money, not even looking up.
Charlie handed over the cash and waited a beat. “You’re Sarah, right?”
Sarah’s attention finally lifted. Dark rings circled her blue eyes as she gave Charlie, then Vince, a wary appraisal. “Yeah. Do I know you?”
“Nope. We were hoping to talk to you—about last night.”
Sarah glanced around the room, her anxiety skyrocketing. “I can’t talk about last night. Who are you? Cops? I already told you everything I know.”
“We’re not cops. But if you can take a break or something, I really think you can help us.”
Sarah bit her lower lip, looking nervous. When Charlie thought she’d tell them to take a hike, she gave a faint nod and headed toward an older woman stocking supplies. They talked for a minute before Sarah headed out from behind the counter, her purse in hand.
“Not here.” Sarah gestured toward outside.
“Show us the way,” Charlie agreed.
Sarah led them across the street to a small urban park. People ran by on the trail and, off to the left, a group of kids tried to erect a kite into the breeze. The young woman settled on a park bench, her purse tightly clenched in her hand. Charlie sat next to her, but Vince, ever watchful, remained standing, no doubt keeping an eye on everything around them.
“You’re not cops?” Sarah asked again.
“We’re not. But we are interested in what happened to your friend Tiffany. Your statement said you saw a pair of men throwing her into the back of a van, but that you couldn’t remember what they looked like, or anything about the van.”
Sarah’s blue eyes narrowed as she fidgeted in her seat. “How do you know what I said in my statement if you’re not cops?”
Vince dropped to his haunches and pushed his sunglasses onto his head. “Sarah,” he said in a surprisingly soothing voice, “we’re not, but we are trying to help. Your friend isn’t the first girl to go missing from the Ocean Drive clubs, and if we don’t find the people responsible, she’s not going to be the last.”
Sarah went back to biting her lower lip.
“Sarah.” Charlie dropped a gentle hand on the young woman’s arm. “We’re just trying to help.”
She seemed to contemplate her choices before nodding. “We weren’t at Hot Lips like I told the detectives.”
“Why did you tell them that you were?”
“I mean, we were there earlier, but then we went…” Sarah nervously played with her hands. “Part of the membership agreement is we don’t talk about it to anyone outside of the club—unless we’re sponsoring that person to become members themselves. That includes law enforcement. Any issues that pop up are supposed to be handled exclusively by the club ownership.”
“What club is this, Sarah?” Charlie asked, supportively squeezing the girl’s arm. “You can tell us. I promise we’ll make sure no one knows you went back on the agreement.”
“It’s called Sinful Delights. It’s a…” She cleared her throat, giving Vince an embarrassed glance before turning back to Charlie. “It’s a fantasy-fulfillment club. It’s all aboveboard. I mean, they’re not doing anything illegal. Everyone there is there willingly. Heck, they pay outrageous membership fees to make use of the place. It’s extremely exclusive.”
“I’ve never heard of it and I used to live in Miami.”
“It’s fairly new, and it’s not like they advertise. They get business by word of mouth. You have to know a member to get invited.”
“And you’re a member?” Charlie asked carefully.
“Me?” Sarah’s eyes widened. “No. There’s no way I could afford it. I’m a bartender there three nights a week.”
“Did Tiffany work there too?” Vince asked. “I thought she was here on vacation.”
Sarah nodded. “Visiting me. Even though I’m not a member, I’m given four free passes a year. They’re only good for one night. I haven’t used them. Truthfully, it’s not my scene, which is why I stick to working behind the bar, but the pay’s great. I was working last night, so I gave Tif one of my passes.”
“So you weren’t with her when she was taken,” Charlie guessed.
Sarah’s eyes welled with tears. “No. We were supposed to go together but then my manager called to ask if I’d work because one of the other bartenders called out sick. And the pay’s so good. If they let me pick up extra, I can’t say no.”
“So she was by herself,” Vince added.
“Yeah. It’s normally a safe place, but I still asked a few of my work friends to look out for her. And before you ask, no, Tif isn’t the type of person to go home with someone she doesn’t know—and I found her cell phone in the back alley, smashed.”
“And you reported her missing to your boss?”
Sarah nodded. “But I kept worrying about Tif’s family—which is why I called the MPD. I’ll get fired if my boss finds out I did that, but it’s Tiffany. She’s like my sister. I couldn’t sit back and do nothing.”
Charlie gave her arm a supportive pat. “No, if you can do something, you should do it. Which is what we’re going to do. You said you had free passes? How would you feel about giving them to Vince and me? So we can check things from the inside?”
Sarah glanced at their surroundings before digging through her purse and pulling out a pair of black business cards. “These will get you the one free night’s admission, but you won’t get in after that without being ridiculously vetted—and able to flash the money.”
Charlie picked up the card so that Vince saw silver embossed lettering. SINFUL DELIGHTS. That was the only thing on the card, except for an elaborately designed watermark.
Vince took the pair and put them in his pocket. “How much does a membership at an exclusive sex club go for these days?”
“Ten grand.”
Vince’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. “Ten grand a year? To get laid?”
“Ten grand a month—to have your fantasies brought to life,” Sarah corrected.
Charlie grinned at Vince’s look of mystified horror. “So where is this place? There’s no address on the card.”
“No address, no paper trail. But it’s on Pier 28, the old Stone Work warehouse on Wharf Street.”
Charlie froze, her smile slipping away just as her heart skipped a beat. It stumbled over a second before slowly easing into a somewhat normal rhythm. “It used to be something else. A long while back.”
Sarah shrugged. “I heard it was another club back in the day, but I have no idea. That was way before my time.”
Vince watched Charlie carefully, and when she didn’t say anything, turned back to the young woman. “Thanks for helping, Sarah. We’re going to do everything we can to find your friend. In the meantime, be careful, okay? Clubs aren’t a safe space right now.”
“It’s not much safer out of them.” Sarah stood, and after thanking them again, hustled back across the street to work.
Charlie and Vince waited by the bench.
“Are you asking yourself the same question I am?” Vince asked cryptically once the young woman was out of earshot.
Charlie dragged herself out of her funk. “What?”
“Sarah lied about where her friend was abducted because of her employer’s rules.”
“Yeah? So?”
“So aren’t you curious if there are any others out there who may have lied about their activities that night to cover up what they were really doing?”
“You mean, maybe the other girls didn’t actually disappear from the mainstream clubs after all? You’re right…that does make me curious,” Charlie agreed.
Also on her mind: whether there were truly such things as coincidences.
Because Sinful Delights—in its previously owned form, Illusions—was the very club she’d been abducted from twelve years ago.
* * *
Vince read people better than they could read themselves. Usually. But when he’d met Charlie a year ago, she’d fritzed out his magic power with a single bat of her brown eyes, and it hadn’t been working the same since. Okay, so not a bat—a glare. A sharp, calculating, and pain-promising glare.
But sitting on that bench, she’d dropped the armor she’d toted around since they’d met, and he’d read something in her eyes that was pretty damn close to uncertainty—and it had happened around the time Sarah told them Sinful Delight’s location. A blink later, the old Charlie had returned, dragging him to the car and to a store that had more leather than a motorcycle shop.
Vince cringed at his reflection in the dressing room mirror, thankful he was alone. No. Fucking. Way. Not in this time zone, hemisphere, or fucking universe.
“It’s not happening, English,” Vince rumbled, knowing Charlie stood on the other side of the door, waiting for his leather-clad ass to come out. “I’m wearing something I brought. End of fucking story.”
“Come out and let me see.”
“I’m not letting anyone fucking see me in this goddamned getup. They’re uncomfortable. They’re fucking tight. And we’re in fucking Miami. I’m going to sweat my fucking ass off and then I’ll need to be cut the fuck out of them.”
“That’s a lot of fucking happening—which I suppose is pretty apropos, considering where we’re going tonight.” The humor in her voice was impossible to miss.
“Glad you find this funny,” Vince grumbled. “But you don’t see these goddamned pants.”
“No, because you’re refusing to come out like some kind of prima donna. I’m giving you fair warning, Navy. If you don’t come out. I’m coming in.”
“I have the door locked.”
“And you think that’s going to stop me?” She let out an evil chuckle. “Oh, love, and here I thought we were getting to know each other so well. I’ll make you a deal…You let me see how the leather pants look, and I’ll show you my outfit.”
“I saw what you’re wearing.”
“You saw what I was wearing before you stepped into that little cubicle. But while you’ve been throwing a tantrum, I’ve since changed. It’s a little snugger, a lot shorter, and ridiculously more…freeing…than the other outfit. This one’s a keeper.”
Fucking-A. It was like she sensed his weakness. His hand barely touched the latch when she log-rolled beneath the door and stood, shrinking both the space in the room and in his leather pants. At least his mind shifted off the high likelihood of chafing his nuts.
Charlie’s knee-high boots covered more skin than the rest of her outfit combined. Her top, more glorified bikini top than leather halter, revealed her twinkling navel piercing, and her short shorts barely covered the bottom curve of her ass.
Vince’s mouth dried like the fucking Afghan desert. “That’s what you’re wearing?”
She gave her outfit a once-over, turning to look at her posterior in the mirror. “What? It’s surprisingly comfortable—a lot more than that cat-suit thing I tried on before.”
“Well, yeah. Because there’s not much fabric to confine you. You can’t wear that if I’m not allowed to bring my piece into the club,” Vince stated adamantly.
She grinned wickedly. “They had a whip out there for sale. I bet you could bring it in and no one would question it. Or maybe I’ll use it to complete my look…you know, accessorize.”
At his pain-filled groan, Charlie chuckled and instructed him to spin with a twirl of her finger. “Let’s see the goods. Strut.”
“The goods are dying from asphyxiation,” he grumbled, but did it.
Her gaze locked on him in an open ogle, and the attention made him that much harder. By the time he faced her again, he could’ve plowed a railroad spike into the ground with his dick. “I say we skip all this shit and wear jeans and tees.”
Charlie lowered her voice. “Anyplace that has a ten-thousand-dollar cover charge expects more than the everyday casual.”
He hated that she was right.
“We should change back until we’re ready to hit the club. Do you need my help getting out of those pants? I left my butter in my other corset, but I could probably come up with something else,” Charlie teased.
Invisible tension rose, something that was happening more and more frequently. And unlike before, when he could distract himself with a hard workout, ignoring his body’s reaction to her nearness was becoming damn near impossible. What was worse—he didn’t even try hard anymore.
At his silence, Charlie laughed and turned to leave, but the snug confines brushed her ass against his hard-on. Vince hissed, clamping his hands on her hips. Hell, he didn’t know if it was to prevent her escape or to pull her closer.
A few layers less and they would’ve been in prime position for him to take her from behind, something Charlie must’ve realized too because she froze.
Her suddenly erratic breathing matched his own and, for the longest time, neither of them moved. Hell, if he moved, he’d probably come inside these damn pants, and wouldn’t that be a bitch to clean the fuck up?
“We already had our stress relief, Navy,” she reminded him. “One and done, remember?”
Meaning they shouldn’t be about to rip each other’s clothes off. His head got it—at least the one on his shoulders. His other one? Not so damn much.
Vince dropped his mouth to her shoulder, needing to taste her skin as much as he needed his next breath. By the time he reached her ear, she was trembling in his hands. “Funny thing about stress…it comes and goes, doesn’t do the considerate thing and stay the hell away.”
“I have no intention of becoming that person. I refuse to be that person,” she stated, softly but firmly.
“What person would that be?”
“The one who, because she’s a woman and sleeps with a man, people think slept her way into her job…or that she shouldn’t be taken seriously.”
Vince manually turned her to face him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about how hard I’ve worked to get here, and not wanting to ruin it in the name of tension release. There’s no way in hell I’m going down as the office tramp.”
“You did not just fucking say that.” He gripped her arms, knowing she could’ve broken free at any time, and demanded her attention—and then forgot what he was about to say.
The woman staring at him through Charlie’s eyes wasn’t the woman who loved busting his balls every day at headquarters. This one looked uncertain. Out of her element.
It took Vince a moment to get his head and his mouth online and working together. “First,” he said, barely keeping his voice to a faint whisper, “no one’s ever questioned your right to be here. You worked damn hard for the spot, and it’s yours. Secondly…tramp? For having a fucking life?”
“People objectify women a lot differently than they do men. It’s not like I condone it. It’s just how it is.”
“Well, fuck that, because you know everyone back home wouldn’t think that of you…at least, no one who mattered, and anyone who would can fuck the hell off.”
She smiled, but the humor didn’t reach her eyes. “Be careful, or you may give me the impression you actually like me.”
“I do like you…too goddamned much. It was never a matter of liking you.”
It was how much she affected him—and being unsure if he was willing to pay the price for it.
Charlie cocked up an eyebrow and took a small, hesitant step back toward the changing room door. “I guess that’s a good thing, considering we’re about to spend our night at a sex club.”
A sex club. With Charlie—the one person on this fucking earth his dick shouldn’t get within ten feet of.
Fate had a wicked sense of humor.