“What’s the scowl for?” she asked. “I just gave you an epic blow job, now I’m washing you like a baby, and you have the nerve to scowl?”

He smiled despite the anxious buzz in his belly. “It was epic.”

This thing between them had to end. Here. Today. He wasn’t a forever guy and if he stuck around, she’d think they had something.

“You’re thinking about how you can slip out of here gracefully, aren’t you?” she asked, looking up at him. Most women would be scrambling for ways to entice him to stay at this point.  But not this tiny dancer.  He knew she’d show him the door without so much as a, “Will I see you again?”

Once again her candor surprised him. As she rinsed him, he nodded.

“You can stop thinking about how to pull it off right now. You’re free to go. I won’t stop you.” Casually, as if they always took a shower together, she lathered herself up and quickly rinsed off. Once done, she reached past him and turned the shower off. Pushing the shower curtain aside, she grabbed a towel off the rack and handed it to him, then grabbed one for herself. Deftly she toweled off and stepped from the tub, wrapping the towel around her, and walked into the bedroom. When he followed several seconds later to make sure she didn’t snatch his wallet with the SIM card in it, he found her pulling on a Hello Kitty T-shirt that came to her knees.

Morning sunlight streamed through the shutter slats. Running her fingers through her short hair like a comb, she moved about the room, picking up his slacks, shirt, underwear, and socks, and laying them neatly on the bed. He stood at the threshold, not knowing what to do.  He knew what he wanted to do, but he couldn’t. He was already in too far.

Walking past him she said, “I’ll make you a coffee to go. I’d offer you some breakfast, but I don’t cook and besides, the cupboards are pretty bare. I haven’t gone shopping in a while.”

“Coffee would be good,” he said and thought how lame that sounded. Lamer still was how he was feeling, like some lovesick teenager. Shake it off, Flynn. She’s a stripper who tried to drug you. Yeah, she was a lot of fun, now move on. It wasn’t going to be that easy if what she’d told him about Boris was true. He’d promised to help her. He always kept his promises. He just needed to find a way to do it and not get sucked deeper into her stripper snare.

As he dressed, the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee filtered back to him. He lived on that stuff. A moment later when he strode into the small kitchen, he looked around and nodded in approval. Like her bedroom, it was clean, bright, and tidy.

Handing him a plastic “To Go” cup full of hot coffee, she walked to the kitchen door and opened it.  “Thanks for doing the honors last night, Slick. No hard feelings about me trying to drug you?”

He sipped the coffee, but didn’t move toward the door. “This is good.”

“One of my few splurges, Jamaican Blue Mountain. Best coffee ever.”

“I want to know more about Boris’s motives regarding the blackmail video.”

“I have no idea what he wants it for and since you took my SIM card and I have nothing to give him, I’m kind of screwed in that regard.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Did he threaten you if you didn’t deliver?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean he won’t. I’ll find out when I go in.”

“I’d rather you didn’t go back there.”

She burst out laughing and mockingly repeated his words, “'I’d rather you didn’t go back there.’ Since when do you have a say in my life?”

“It’s dangerous.”

“Yeah, well, so is your job, but you don’t see me telling you what to do. How ludicrous is that?”

“I’m a trained professional, you’re not.”

“The hell I’m not. I make more tips in one night than all of the other cocktailers combined.  I’m damn good at what I do and while you might think I’m naïve, I’m far from it. I know exactly what I’m doing.” She moved in on him and gave him a push. “Now go, and please don’t come back unless you have information about my sister.” When he didn’t move, she pushed him with more conviction out the door, and closed it loudly behind him. The harsh slide of the deadbolt hitting home struck him like a lightning bolt in the gut.

Chapter Eight

Izzy stood staring at the closed door and the shadow of the man standing on the other side of it through the beveled glass panes. He hadn’t moved since she’d shoved him out five minutes ago. She wished he’d just go.

Liar, liar pants on fire.

“If you don’t leave, the neighbors are going to think you’re stalking me,” she called.

“They’d be right,” he said, but didn’t move from the small porch.

Glancing at the clock, she saw it was almost eight. Where had the morning gone?  Orgasmland, that’s where, damn it. Her stomach growled. She’d left without her tips last night, which meant she’d get even less than she’d actually earned. Andre would have double-dipped.  He was such a turd. She had less than twenty bucks in her account and… She opened the fridge and scowled. One egg, an orange, and a slice of cheese food. Her lip curled. Who the hell were they kidding?  There was as much cheese in the plastic-wrapped sliver of hydrogenated rubber as there was in the orange next to it. Exhaling loudly, she reached in and took the meager selection out. It would have to do. As she set the items down on the counter, an intense wave of loneliness hit her.

She missed her mom. It had been eight years since she died.  It seemed like yesterday. She’d stopping missing Alex when, after years of trying to connect, and years of nothing, she’d let it go.  She’d been solo since she was sixteen.

Glancing at the door, Izzy’s belly did a slow nauseous roll. The shadow was gone.  And she was solo once again.

Was she that forgettable?  Unlocking the door, she peeked out to find an empty driveway. Apparently she was. So much for reading that all wrong.  She thought there had been a connection there.

Slowly, Izzy closed the door. Leaning against it, she yearned for her special Special Agent. No, 86 that, she ached for him. His body. His brain. The way he held her. His smile and dios mio, the way he made her feel. Like the most exquisite creature on earth. But he was gone—poof. Just like that, the light he had lit inside her was gone, too.

Good riddance, she told herself. “I don’t need a stuffy fed who can’t see past his ego.” He had a problem with her being a stripper? Screw him. Seriously; she wouldn’t hold it against him if he was a stripper! Well…not much. Okay, maybe she’d have some jealousy issues. I mean who would want their man shaking their bacon and being mauled by sex-starved women for a living? So yeah, she could see how her act de jour might bother him. If she was his woman. Which she wasn’t.

She was just the chick who’d tried to drug him and make a sex video. She was damn lucky he hadn’t arrested her.  Yet, in hindsight, she’d do it again.  Not because she felt some sense of obligation to Alex, but because she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she hadn’t tried. It was basic human courtesy.

At least that’s what she told herself.  But the phone call she’d received over three months ago continued to play as a constant reel in her head.

Izzy didn’t receive many calls, but when the phone rang, she knew who was calling before she answered, so when she saw the 510 area code number that she didn’t recognize, she’d debated answering.  Probably a bill collector hounding her.

Her gut screamed to let it go, but something else told her to answer:

“Hello?”

Silence.

“Answer me or I’m hanging up.”  

“SeeSee,” the voice sobbed. “Is that you?”

Izzy stiffened at the endearment. SeeSee was what her half sister, Alex had called her when they were growing up because she couldn’t pronounce sister.  The irony was that they didn’t know they were actually sisters until they were eleven, the day Izzy learned that Alex’s father was also her’s.  Yup, Izzy was born a cliché.  Her dad the rich and powerful lord of the manor was boinking the nanny at the same time he was boinking his wife.  Dude was eating his Wheaties.  Alex was just six months younger than Izzy.