Delilah's Tears

Chapter Twenty-two

"Baby, ask away." Uh-oh. Where's this going?

"Other women. Like, um, Roxanne? Will you...will they...ah crap. Is that going to be anything that will come between us? I mean, you can't predict the future, still..."

"Baby, look at me." She does. I see how hard it was for her to speak her mind. If she's going to put it all on the line—her heart, her reputation—she wants assurance. I'll gladly give it. "I'm in love with you. I plan for us to be together for a very, very, very long time. I don't want any other woman. I don't want to find or look for anyone else. I give you my word I will never, ever put myself in another position like the one with Roxanne for a job. I'm not for sale. You're it." I fish cash out of my wallet, toss it on the table and stand, pulling Delilah with me. "Let's get out of here."

****

"That must be one helluva report you're typing up there. I've never seen anyone so thoroughly enjoy supplying the deets on a cheating spouse."

Neil flops down in a chair next to me. Okay, sure. I was grinning like an idiot, and it had not a damned thing to do with what I found out about Mrs. Wilson's husband. Yep, he's banging his secretary—how cliche. Didn't even have the good sense to pull the blinds on his first-floor office at the bank. Martin Wilson isn't a prize, either. At sixty-something, he's slightly balding, and has a little paunch and a little prick. I don't get what the attraction is to the secretary, either. She's not much younger. When I went into the bank to ask about a "loan," I had to talk to her in order to get in and see Wilson. She was a bitch, plain and simple. Customer satisfaction is not in her wheelhouse. I didn't care for the way she barked orders at others. Bonnie Wilson is a far better catch, in my opinion. If I were her, I'd dump Martin and get myself an updated model with better equipment under the hood. So, no. This case has absolutely nothing to do with my current mood. Which is off the charts.

"Nope. The Wilson's are definitely not the reason for my good cheer." Neil is quiet, which is suspicious. I glance up and see him studying me. He strokes his goatee as he thinks. There's a little twinkle in his eye. I can read his tells, no matter how insignificant. I continue typing, as I wait for it.

"I have a job for you."

"All right. Anything more exciting than taking pictures of Martin Wilson in flagrante?"

"Much more interesting. You and Jax need to spend time at the Lotus Club."

I raise a brow. The sleaziest strip club in a twenty-five mile radius? Rumor has it this is where former top-shelf strippers are put out to pasture, and the customers are even worse. At least once a month there's a raid on the place. This ought to be good. "Oh? How much time? What're we looking for?"

"Sex for cash. Money laundering. Your basic shit."

"Uh-huh. Go on."

"A couple of the girls there are in the know. You and Jax need to get cozy with them. Become regulars. Take them into the back rooms where the real business happens and enjoy a few lap dances. Those rooms are all equipped with cameras. You'll need to make it look good. It's common knowledge that the girls will let you get handsy for extra cash. Do what you need to in order to pump them for info." Neil emphasizes the words "handsy" and "pump" with a dirty grin and a hand gesture or two.

I sit back and consider how much of his work order is bullshit and how much is real. I'm leaning toward total bullshit. He's toying with me. I'll play along. For a minute.

"Hmm. How far in the 'handsy' department do you want us to go? Cuz things got pretty hot and heavy at Sensations."

"So I heard. I figured you and Jax would be up for this, based on the debrief from that job."