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Swatting at his hands, she added, “Cut it out.”
“Back off.” This time Benny’s disembodied voice sounded more menacing.
“I’m not holding her,” Trevor replied calmly, not bothering to turn around. He finished buttoning her shirt and rubbed his thumb gently under her eye, where she’d tried to use makeup to hide the dark, puffy circles left by lack of sleep.
The big man stepped out of the shadows. One look at his dogged expression and Kylie realized she was about to have an even bigger problem. Hoping to avoid trouble, she shifted away from Trevor’s touch. “Everything’s okay, Benny. We’re done.” Arms crossed, hip cocked, she sent Trev
or a look that silently dared him to contradict her. “Aren’t we?”
He nodded. “For now. Get some rest, Stacy. You’re going to need it.”
Chapter Five
Trevor looked up from his half-completed expense report and cocked a brow when Ian stopped beside the desk. His partner had a closed file folder and an equally closed expression. Behind him, the typical chaos of the detectives’ bullpen ran its Monday afternoon course.
“Vern Firth came through with the customer and employee lists.”
Trevor leaned back in his chair. “How bad?”
Ian shrugged. “Not terrible. Seven male staff members, including Firth, during the last year, and eleven Stacy regulars. I’m about half-done running the regulars for priors.”
“Anything interesting so far?”
Ian opened the file and handed him a stack of printouts. “Nada. Not so much as a restraining order from a past girlfriend. Nothing to suggest any of these guys has a history of disturbing behavior. They’re white-collar professionals—accountants, executives, lawyers. An evening at Deuces isn’t cheap, but her regulars can afford the hit. Not saying there aren’t any gainfully employed wackos out there, but if one of these men is our killer, he pays someone else to do his dirty work or he keeps his violent tendencies on a tight leash.”
Trevor leafed through the reports, giving the data a cursory scan. “Yeah. It’s a possibility, I guess, but bashing someone’s skull in and then working them over with brass knuckles doesn’t say cool-headed restraint to me…or hired hit. The face-work strikes me as personal. A pro wouldn’t sign up for something so messy and inefficient. I think our guy’s impulsive and relies on violence or the threat of violence to get his message across. Someone who doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty, so to speak. The combination usually leaves some kind of trail in the old permanent record—a domestic violence charge, assault, battery, stalking. It doesn’t scream accountant.”
Ian inclined his head. “I agree. So, we finish the regulars and then focus on the employees?”
“Yeah. Let’s finish the runs and see what we get.” Tapping the reports, he added, “In the meantime, I’ll contact the lovely and talented Miss Roberts and ask her to come down and chat with me about her biggest fans.”
“You think maybe she’ll remember some of them this time?”
He smiled. “Hope springs eternal. I do think I’ll be able to tell if one of them makes her nervous.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because I make her nervous, and I can read it plain as day.”
…
Don’t act nervous, Kylie ordered herself and stilled her restless hands by folding them in her lap. Difficult instructions considering she once again sat in an LAPD interview room, beside Detective Trevor McCade. Sitting next to him was a nerve-racking way to spend a Wednesday evening, no matter what the reason.
Currently, silence stretched between them while he made notes in a file and she tried to look anywhere besides the triangle of bronze skin revealed by his loosened tie and unbuttoned collar. She tried not to dwell on their time together Saturday night—the way his eyes had moved over her body. Despite her resolve to put the incident behind her, she’d been reliving the encounter constantly, the unprecedented urges he’d drawn from her, the addictive new sensations. Now, with the living, breathing man in front of her again, her addled system jumped to high alert. When she found herself wondering how it would feel to trace her tongue over the scar above his lip, she gave herself a mental shake, fixed her attention on her hands, and assessed the course of the interview so far.
On the bright side, she was doing better with his questions this time…at least she thought she was. Thanks to Stacy’s “clients 101” crash course, she’d arrived for the interview armed with names, descriptions, preferences, and impressions.
On the not-so-bright side, she’d been a little surprised to learn that despite the intimate dances Stacy gave these men, her twin really didn’t know any more about her best clients than Kylie knew about her yoga students. Her sister considered all the men “nice,” by which she apparently meant docile and mildly pathetic. Stacy truly didn’t have information that would be helpful to a murder investigation.
Kylie’s attention wandered back to Trevor, and stalled there when she realized he was watching her. He gave her his easy half smile, and her insides fluttered so badly she had to force herself not to press a hand to her stomach.
“Your memory seems to have improved tremendously in the last couple days,” he observed, shifting closer.
“I’ve had plenty of time to think about my clients since Saturday. You’d be surprised what you can remember about someone when you’re considering whether he might be a killer.”
He closed the file folder and nodded. Lighter, sun-burnished strands of his hair gleamed under the fluorescent lights. “Let’s cut to the chase then. Do any of these men worry you?”
“No. My VIPs are harmless.”
