Page 4 of Deadly Pride
“I am.” His gaze ran over her. “That should do it.”
“Glad I meet with your approval.”
Liam's room wasn't far from the seedy side of town and the strip club owned by Lance. She frowned at the neon sign depicting a pair of kicking legs in heels. The place was named The Gentleman's Club. Not very original, but the sign clearly stated what the plain white building held.
“Pretend you're my woman.” Liam grinned. “Once we've scoped out the place, then we can start asking questions. When we do, you can be the bad cop. Too bad you aren’t wearing makeup.”
“I'll do my best to bat my eyelashes and giggle at every stupid thing you say until then.” She shoved open her door, fluffed her hair, and waited for him to join her. When he did, he put his hand on the small of her back and guided her to the front door. His touch sent an electric current through her.
Loud music and flashing lights greeted them. A few heads turned, but most stayed focused on the mainly naked woman on the stage.
Liam found them a table for two in the corner, then motioned over a server wearing black lingerie. “Beer and a rum and diet coke.”
“How did you know what I wanted?” Harper glared. “I don't like men ordering for me.”
“It's my job to know people. You seem like a rum and coke kind of girl. Since you're thin, I figured diet.” He didn't look the least bit ashamed. He faced the stage, his eyes narrowed.
Harper turned to see the woman stop dancing and drop to her knees, head bowed, hands clasped in front of her while another woman fastened a collar around her neck. The scene mimicked the death of Richardson to a T. If they performed the act regularly, it could be why his killer posed him that way.
“I'm going to need church and a shower after tonight,” she said.
“Yeah, it's hard to see this side of life and not have it harden you.”
“Why hasn't it?” She tilted her head, then remembering she's supposed to be enthralled with him, ran her fingers down his arm.
He cupped her head and pulled her close, his lips next to her ear. “Church and regular showers.”
“Really?” She pulled back.
“What? You didn't take me for the type to go to church? I'm Irish. I attend mass when I can, and I drink. I do my best not to swear. My mom always boxed my ears when I did.” He winked.
Heat rose up her neck.
The waitress set their drinks in front of them. Liam tucked a twenty under the strap of her top. “Do those two dancers perform that act regularly?”
“Every night.” Her smile looked forced. “The clientele seem to love seeing--”
“Women in a subservient manner?” Harper arched a brow.
“Yes.” She turned to leave.
Harper stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Can you tell us about Lance Richardson? We'll pay you to talk to us.”
The woman stared for a moment, uncertainty flickering across her face, then nodded. “I get off at one a.m. Meet me in the parking lot. Cost for information is one hundred dollars.” She marched away, head held high.
“I really don't want to stay here that long,” Harper said. “Want to get a coffee somewhere?”
“Sure. I'm hungry. Let's find a place that is still serving food at this time of the night.” He rose and offered Harper a hand.
She slipped hers in his and let him pull her to her feet. Outside, she immediately untied her shirt and retucked it into her pants, buttoning up the top buttons. She tied her hair back into its customary ponytail. There. She felt like herself again.
Liam laughed and opened her car door for her. “It won't work, you know?”
“What won't?”
“You can't hide your beauty.” He closed the door before she could say anything. When he joined her back in the car, he faced her and smiled. “Bet that left you speechless.”
“I dress professionally.” She turned the key in the ignition, her hand shaking. A change of subject was in order, but yes, he’d knocked her speechless. “Start thinking about what questions you want to ask the server. I don't think we have much time before the killer strikes again.”