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Her heart raced. It was finally happening. Okay, she wouldn’t get the answers she wanted tonight. But she was finally going to get close to De Leon.
This was the first step in her plan.
Get close. Find some evidence of what happened to her dad.
And maybe that would help lead her to wherever Mama was.
She knew it was a long shot. Sampson complained all the time that what she was doing was idiotic.
But what else could she do?
“Yes, I need you to work the back room,” Martin told her.
Okay. This was the part she had to maneuver carefully. Fuck. Cat wasn’t that good at being subtle or lying.
“Oh no. I couldn’t do that.”
“You have to, Cat. No one else can handle these guys.”
“Why not? What do you mean? I’m not giving them anything extra, if that’s what you’re talking about.”
“What? What do you mean . . . oh no, no! That’s not what they want. No one expects that. We run a legitimate business here. Nobody is expecting you to sell your body if that’s what you were thinking.”
Go carefully.
“Sorry,” she said hastily. “I didn’t mean to insult you. It’s just with the way you were acting . . . you seemed worried about this group. And well, I haven’t worked here the longest. I thought you’d get Alan or Joanna to cover Starla’s shift.”
Martin shook his head. “No, they won’t work. See . . . this private group, they are all men. Powerful, rich men. And they tip very, very well. Have you seen the car Starla drives? Her expensive bags? All earned from tips from these men.”
Really? Cat thought they might have been bought using the tips she stole.
“That means they expect a certain level of service. So while you are not required to do anything. No one will touch you, uh, they do like something pretty to look at.”
Martin gave her a fake grimace. As though he was horrified at the idea and didn’t agree with what these rich and powerful men wanted.
But she knew that he got a cut of Starla’s tips.
Jerk.
It was amazing what you could discover with a few well-placed listening devices in the staff room and his office.
But she nodded. “All right. I guess I can do it, as long as they’re only looking and not touching.”
Fuckers better not touch her.
“Thank you, my dear.” He took hold of her hand and she managed not to shove him away. Just. “I owe you big time. And you’ll find that while these men might be arrogant and demanding, they tip very well. Just give them whatever they want.”
She smiled at him, even as an alarm bell sounded.
“Within reason, of course,” he added hastily.
Of course.
2
Alejandro De Leon was going to kill someone tonight.
He just wasn’t sure who.
But some fucker had to die. Because he was over this bullshit. Every two months, he hosted a poker game in the back of Michelle’s, the upscale restaurant one of his corporations owned. The same assholes turned up every time.
But one of those assholes was a dead man walking. Because they were working behind the scenes to interfere in his business.
And shit like that wasn’t tolerated in Alejandro’s world. No one went against him and lived to tell the tale.
His car came to a stop and the door opened. Reuben stepped inside and sat down. He’d been at a business meeting downtown.
Alejandro handed him a glass of Scotch without a word of greeting. Reuben grunted in acceptance, before taking it and downing it in one go. “More.”
“Meeting go bad?” Alejandro asked.
“It was all right. More.”
“That’s a Macallan fifty-year-old single malt Scotch,” Alejandro said mildly.
“So?” Reuben snapped.
“Just saying.” He poured the other man a generous amount and watched as he sipped it more slowly this time. “So, I know why I’m in a bad mood, but what’s up your goat?”
“I want my sister to move to Boston with me,” he grumbled. “But she won’t.”
“A woman who doesn’t immediately jump to do what you say. That must be an interesting experience for you,” Alejandro commented.
“Juliet is being stubborn. She knows I’d be able to take better care of her if she lived with me. Instead, she wants to stay in Wishingbone. She says she likes living there.” Reuben huffed out a breath.
“So force her to move in with you. Take the jet and pick her up.”
“I can’t just force her to move to Boston with me.”
“I don’t see why not.”
“And this is why you don’t have a girlfriend,” Reuben pointed out. “You can’t force people to do things they don’t want to do.”
“Of course you can.” What nonsense was Reuben talking about? Alejandro had never taken no for an answer. He always got what he wanted.
Always.
“Sorry, let me rephrase that . . . you can’t make people do things if you still want them to care about you. To love you.”
