Lilith whipped up in bed, her body trembling, her breath choked in her throat. A dream. It was only a dream.
Hannah was alive She had to be.
Turning on the nightstand lamp, Lilith slid her hand to the heart-half nestled in the hollow there and thought about their explosive argument before her sister had disappeared.
“Hang on, Hannah. I haven’t abandoned you this time.”
LILITH HAD BARELY started work that evening when she felt a hot breath trail along the back of her neck. Shivering, she flipped around to find a tall, lanky man with a pockmarked face grinning down at her. He was wearing tight black leather pants and a black silk shirt. A thick gold chain hung from his scrawny neck.
“Can I get you a drink?”
He laughed. “I’m not a customer, honey. Rudy Barnes, the club’s deejay.”
His pale blue eyes gleamed strangely as he stared down at her. She imagined him licking his chops.
“Waitress,” she said. “Lilith.”
“How about we get together after the club closes? I can show you the ropes around here.”
Lilith had the definite impression that ropes weren’t all he wanted to show her.
“I’m good,” she said, keeping it light, “but thanks.”
“You change your mind, you know where to find me.”
He pointed to the booth and backed off toward it, giving her a wink like he thought
“Stay away from that one,” a redheaded waitress named Allie said.
“Bad news?”
“Pervert.”
“You’ve had personal experience?” Lilith asked.
“Not me. He’s not into redheads. But I’ve heard the tales from a couple other girls.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
“No problem.” Allie picked up her drinks and headed for a table.
Gazing around the room, Lilith saw a few faces she already recognized — regulars, she supposed — but no Michael. So why did she feel disappointed? He unnerved her, so she should be glad he wasn’t there.
Gabe wasn’t around, either, which made her wonder if he was off the case. But halfway through the night, he was at his usual place at the bar.
She was about to check in with him when the dancer named Irene stopped her and handed her a folded piece of paper.
“From an admirer.”
“Thanks. I think,” she murmured.
Lilith quickly opened and scanned the note.
“Paul Ensdorf?” She gave the other dancer a questioning look.
The blonde pointed to a nearby table whose occupant avidly watched for Lilith’s reaction. She remembered the first time she’d been at the club, he’d tripped a stripper and then had put his hands all over her to help her up.
“Um, I’m supposed to be selling drinks.”
“Get him to buy a bottle of champagne, and Sal won’t care what you do with him. The idea is to bring in money, honey.”
Lilith grabbed the martinis Joe pushed at her. She served the drinks, then, taking a deep breath, she headed for her new admirer.
Already standing, Paul Ensdorf was a bit shorter than she was in her heels. Not that it seemed to bother him. He was all boyish smiles to go with the sandy hair, a lock of which fell onto his forehead. And, like a true gentleman, he held out a chair for her and said, “I’m delighted you could join me.”
Lilith remained standing. “I can only stay for a moment. My job is to serve drinks.”
He sat. “What if I bought a bottle of champagne?”
“Well, if you’re planning on buying a bottle, the least I can do is share a toast.”
“Then a bottle it is.”
Nodding, she headed back to the bar, noting that Michael had finally shown up. His smile made her stomach tighten. She steeled herself against the attraction. She needed to focus on one thing only. Figuring out who had her sister.
So when Michael started talking to one of the dancers, reached in a pocket and handed her what looked like a business card, why did that bother her?
By the time she got to the bar, Joe was already setting out a bottle of champagne and two glasses.
“Uh, how did you know?” she asked.
He shrugged. “It’s for Ensdorf.”
“So he’s here a lot?”
Joe laughed. “Nearly every night his sister Melinda works.”
He indicated the dark-haired dancer on stage, nude but for a g-string, thigh high stockings, elbow-length gloves and a tattoo of big red lips in the middle of her right butt cheek. Her brother was fixated on her, his expression tight. Lilith watched Melinda walk right over to Paul and shake her naked breasts in his face. Then, seeming satisfied that he was near apoplectic, Melinda strutted away from him as her music segued to that of the next dancer.
When Lilith got back to the table, Paul was still flushed. He pulled out two hundred dollar bills to pay her and refused to take change. Then he insisted she sit with him for that toast.
“I want to get to know you better, Lilith.”
“I told you I can only stay for a few minutes.”
“Over tea,” he continued. “High tea is so civilized, don’t you think?” Staring at her cleavage, he leaned forward and slipped a hand over hers. His palm was sweaty, making her skin crawl. “And I can tell you are the kind of girl who appreciates class.”
Was he for real? Lilith laughed as she removed her hand and fussed with the vest, and inadvertently, the heart-half. “What? I have ‘class’ written across my forehead?”
Paul’s gaze was caught by the movement, and then he stared up into her face as if judging her. A cunning expression quickly flickered across his features.
“I want to take you to nice places.” He spoke as if her going out with him was a done deal. “We can start with The Plaza, say tomorrow afternoon.”
“You want to go to a hotel? For tea?”
He suddenly seemed off a beat, not quite the nice boy-next-door. “And finger sandwiches. I like the watercress and cucumber, don’t you?”
He licked his lips, and she swore he giggled. Both of which gave her the creeps.
Whatever she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been this. Anxious to get away from him, she sought an excuse.
But before she could find one, he said, “Anna was nice, too. You remind me of her.”
The reference to her sister grabbed Lilith’s full attention. Her smile faded. She was no longer amused. Too thrown to stay at the creep’s table, she needed to process this.
She rose and looked for an escape. “A customer is waving me over.”
“Meet me in the lobby of The Plaza a little before four. And wear something conservative.”
Lilith walked off, muttering to herself. “High tea at The Plaza. Either this guy’s nuts, or… this guy’s nuts.”
