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The expression quickly faded as she sat thinking, replaced by something else -- determination. Claire shot her gaze over to me, narrowing her eyes and staring hard, as if she’d just decided that the time for bullshit was over.
“Do you know Kat Sampson? You might know her as Kiki?”
“Excuse me?” Her question caught me off guard.
She didn’t back down. “You heard me. I want to know if the name Kiki means anything to you.”
I let the question hang in the air, making it clear that I’d be answering it on my own time. I opened the bar and poured myself a small measure of whiskey, taking a slow sip and considering the matter. I knew exactly who she was, but I wasn’t about to volunteer that information until I knew why Claire was asking.
“Kiki sounds familiar, yes.”
“It should. She’s a dancer at your club.”
The longer the name lingered in my mind, the more familiar she seemed.
“Was,” I said. “Wasa dancer at our club. I haven’t seen her around in some time.”
“What happened? Was she fired?”
I didn’t have to answer any of her questions. In fact, one word and the driver would pull over and forcefully remove my little interrogator from the car. There was something to her line of questioning; however, that made me want to play along. Maybe I was still basking in the afterglow of the sex, more amenable than I otherwise would be.
“That, I can’t tell you.”
“Why the hell not? Don’t you own that place? How could you not know what’s happening at your own place of business?”
I raised my finger. “Keep in mind, Claire, that I’m answering your questions out of courtesy. If you continue to take such a tone with me, this conversation will be over in short order.”
Once more, she formed her mouth into a hard line.
Claire glanced aside before turning her attention onto me once more.
“Kiki worked at your club. I know this for a fact. Now she doesn’t. And here you are, acting like you have no idea who she is.”
“Listen. The hiring and firing and overall management of the girls at Pussycats isn’t my responsibility.”
“Then what the hellisyour job there?” Her tone went sharp again, and I responded by raising my eyebrows in warning.
“While we’re asking questions,” I said. “How about one from me to you—why are you asking about an employee at Pussycats just minutes after screwing my brains out?” I was being a dick, but I needed to remain in control.
“When was the last time you saw her?” She wasn’t taking the bait. I was trying to distract her, and she wasn’t falling for it.
She was dangerous. Claire, whoever she was, had no problem looking a man like me dead in the eye and demanding answers. More than that, there was a fierceness in her that let me know she wasn’t going to give up until her questions were answered.
“Listen, you have to believe me when I tell you that I don’t even remember what this girl looks like. Who is she to you, anyway?”
“She’s my best friend. No, she’s more than that she’s like a sister to me. Something happened to her, and I know your club is at the center of it. You’re going to help me find out what the hell is going on.”
I chuckled, amused. All the same, I had to do something about her. Having someone as tenacious and persistent as Claire poking around the family could only lead to bad things. I needed to get her the fuck out of my car. More than that, I needed to put her off for good from sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. I might be willing to let her go without laying a finger on her. Eddie, on the other hand, might not be so forgiving.
“You know,” I said. “There are better ways to find out what you want than fucking a man you barely know.”
It was a sharp, harsh comment. Part of me expected her to be hurt and to cover it up with anger.
That didn’t happen. Instead, she let out an amused snort.
“Fuck off.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle.
