Skin

LILITH RAN A FEW ERRANDS and still got to the club before her shift started and so went straight to the bar to look for Michael. Spotting Gabe instead, she joined him.

“Pucinski wouldn’t tell me anything about Hannah’s case,” she said. “What about you? Will you talk?”

“Sit.” He offered her his stool and spoke softly against the harsh hip-hop music one of the younger dancers preferred. “How about you?” he asked, turning the tables on her. “Learn anything you should share with me?”

“Nothing definitive. I even went to high tea with Paul Ensdorf. I seem to be the little creep’s type.”

“You’d be any man’s type.” His expression was as appreciative as he sounded.

“Yeah, well that doesn’t help me find someone who has a hard-on for women who look like my sister. Surely you know something.”

To Lilith’s frustration, Gabe said, “You sound frazzled. Let me buy you a drink. A real one.” He waved over the bartender.

“What can I get you?” Joe asked.

“Gin and tonic with lime.” One drink wouldn’t hurt. Hopefully, it would ease her nerves so she could do what she’d planned.

Joe set off to make her drink. She looked toward the back of the club again for Michael. Disappointed when she didn’t see him, she returned her attention to Gabe and caught him in an unguarded moment before he covered with a forced smile.

“Who died on you?” she asked.

“They don’t have to die. Sometimes they just leave you. My ex hated being married to a cop, at least one in the Violent Crimes Unit. The kids don’t have any say-so. Just another in a long list of disagreements.”

He reached into his pocket and found his wallet. He pulled out a picture: three kids and a woman whose long, dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, which accentuated her classic beauty.

“Great looking kids,” she said.

“You ever been married?” he asked.

“I’ve never even been in love.”

Even as she said it, Lilith thought about Michael. But of course she didn’t love him. There was a definite attraction. Maybe she was a little in lust with him. She kept thinking about that almost kiss.

Shaking away the thought, she said, “So you’re not going to tell me anything about the investigation?”

“Nothing to tell. Yet. Be careful, Lilith. This guy’s dangerous. Don’t provoke him.”

“I don’t know who him is.” But provoking him was exactly why she was doing what she was doing. If she could finger the killer, the cops could take care of him. And if he came after her, she could take care of herself. “If it’s Paul Ensdorf, I definitely can take him.”

“I’m sure you can, but I doubt that he’s the one. Too obvious.”

“Who would you choose to be a potential killer?” she asked.

“I don’t know yet, but–”

“But what?”

“I’ve seen you talking to that Wyndham guy. I hate to tell you this, but he’s one of our suspects.”

Lilith started, and her heart skipped a beat. “Michael is not some crazy creep. He’s here making a documentary about girls who work at places like this for a living.”

“Yeah. Maybe that’s what he’s doing.” Gabe shrugged. “He’s got some dangerous connections, Lilith. I’m telling you, Pucinski has a file on him. Be careful is all I’m saying.”

Even though Lilith didn’t for a second believe Michael was guilty of killing those women, of taking her sister, Gabe’s accusation made her wonder if Michael could be hiding something criminal in his background. Not only did she not want to believe it, Gabe had just made her too uncomfortable to continue the discussion.

“Hey, I’d better get to the dressing room and get ready for work.”

“I’ll be here, at least for part of the night.”

Lilith hurried toward the backstage door. About to rev up her efforts to attract the bastard who had a thing for women who looked like Hannah, she was fighting nerves. She wasn’t Hannah, and she hated what she was about to do, but she would do anything to save her sister, even come on to the men the way Hannah had.

So when she got dressed, she forwent using the usual modesty tape that helped keep her breasts covered. She doubled her eye makeup and chose a bright red lipstick with some ingredient that made her lips look bee-stung. Sprayed a little musk on the inside of her wrists and between her breasts. And when she walked out into the club, it was with a smile that touched every man in her path.

They had no clue that her knees were shaking or that her chest felt like an elephant sat on top of it.

Male eyes turned from the dancer to her.

And when she took an order, she forced herself to imitate the other women who worked here. She made it seem like the man placing it was the only man in the room.

“I like good service,” one guy told her in appreciation.

He held out a hundred dollar bill, but when she tried to take it, he didn’t let go.

“Where do you want me to put it?” he asked.

Her stomach spiraled with nerves. “Anywhere you want, honey.”

She kept her fake smile as he tucked the bill between her breasts, taking the opportunity to brush her flesh with the tips of his fingers. She fisted her own hands so she wouldn’t take those fingers and break them.

“There’s more where that came from,” he said.

“How much more?”

“Depends on what you’ll do for it.”

“Tsk-tsk-tsk!” She shook her finger at him as if he’d been a bad boy, winked and moved to the next customer, while all the while her stomach roiled.

Surely she was drawing enough attention to herself now to get noticed.

oOo

MICHAEL THOUGHT TO stay away from the club tonight, but in the end, he changed his mind. Lilith drew him back.

And so when he came in and saw her letting some creep put a bill between her breasts, he stopped cold.

He hated this. Hated Lilith letting men touch her like that.

It reminded him of his mother.

But Lilith wasn’t a stripper. She didn’t even belong here as a waitress.

One thing about his job, he was an expert researcher. And he’d spent half the day researching Lilith Mitchell. He knew she was a paralegal who worked for one of the top law firms in the city. He also knew why she was here, playing with fire, without her having to admit a thing. He knew, but, thinking he’d found the elusive narrative for his documentary, he wouldn’t tell her that he did.

He wanted her to open up to him.

He wanted to know how she felt about what she was doing… for someone else.

He wanted her.

She saw him sit at a table in back. He waved her over, but she ignored him. She kept up the act with the half-drunk men more than willing to pay her for a quick thrill.

How could she let them touch her like that?

She kept it up all night, going from man to man — avoiding him — until the club closed. She was the last waitress to leave the room.

Michael edged around to the rear of the club, and making sure no one saw him, slipped through the backstage door. Most of the dancers had already left. He waited off to the side for Lilith to come out of the dressing room. Only she didn’t.

Not hearing any more chatter, he wondered if the place was empty, if he’d missed her. He took his chances and opened the door. The lights were out except for where Lilith sat in front of the mirror. The only one in the room, she was removing her makeup. And she was wearing a red dress that left little to the imagination.

As if suddenly realizing she wasn’t alone, Lilith turned to face him. “Michael, what are you doing here?”

“Better question — what are you?”

“I just finished my shift; now I’m getting ready to leave.”