Page 3 of Strip Search

J ackie Mitchell

Because I was expensing this trip to Lisa’s account, I booked a room at the Wynn on the Las Vegas Strip instead of one of the budget hotels closer to the airport.

I considered it compensation for having to turn down the part in the show.

Although after visiting her apartment in New York and having her roommates tell me that Lisa took all her stuff and moved out three months ago, I was no longer thinking that Lisa was just flaking out for longer than usual.

She’d actually moved to Vegas. Who did that?

Vegas was for playing around, doing daring and stupid things, before returning back to the drudgery of your existence.

You didn’t live here. You risked having the shine buffed out of the town.

I’d figured she was just on an extended vacation, but she’d given up her Brooklyn pad to go live in the desert.

Alone in my luxury room, I quickly unpacked and then did a few arabesques and pliés because I wasn’t used to having so much room to move.

My apartment back in Queens was so tiny that Lisa could touch her fingertips on one wall and her toes on the other.

I was slightly shorter, so that was another thing that she did better than me.

I wonder what apartments looked like here.

Too bad I didn’t have Lisa’s address. She hadn’t shared it with our parents either.

I called her, but it went to voice mail again. “Hey, Lisa. It’s me. I’m in Vegas. I need to see you. Please don’t make me track you down. I’m at the Wynn in room 1492. Give me a call and we can get drinks or something.”

I didn’t have any hopes that she would call or text back.

She’d gone incommunicado, and I had to admit that even I was starting to buy into my mother’s paranoia.

When she didn’t immediately call me back, I decided I better start my Nancy Drew routine.

My first stop was the Spearmint Rhino, a titty bar about five miles off the Strip and Lisa’s last known location.

I parked my rental car in a nearby garage and walked to the club.

The Spearmint Rhino was glitzy and neoned up enough to be on the Strip, but I’d bet it saved a ton on rent by not being there.

The doorman seemed about to give me grief.

I wasn’t dressed to impress. I wore a Calvin Klein wrap dress and sensible-heeled sandals.

But after a quick look around, he must have decided that it was early enough in the night to let me in.

In another few hours, I’d be waiting on line for a miracle and paying a hefty cover charge—if I even managed to get past the guy.

“Thank you,” I murmured and slipped him a twenty. That seemed to brighten him up a bit. Until I asked about my sister. He just grunted and gestured for me to go inside. I wasn’t sure if that was good news or bad news.

The beer, burgers, and boobies happy hour was still in effect. Not interested in any of those, I sat down at the bar and exchanged a tired smile with the female bartender.

“Are you lost?” she asked.

“I’m not, but my sister is.”

“There’s a lot of that going on around here. Can I get you something?”

I ordered a glass of wine and paid with another twenty. “Keep the change,” I said, and slid my sister’s headshot across the bar. “Do you know Lisa Mitchell?”

She looked surprised. “Yeah, she worked here about a month ago. I hope nothing’s happened to her.”

“Me too. She hasn’t been in touch for a while and my parents are worried. Do you know why she left?”

The bartender frowned in thought. “I can’t say for sure. We didn’t have a lot of shifts together and when we did, we were slammed. I know money was an issue with her. That and she was always criticizing the dancers, saying she could do better. It didn’t make her very popular around here.”

That sounded like Lisa. “Do you think I could talk to the dancers?”

“If you got the money, they’ve got the time.”

I inwardly winced. “Who would you recommend I speak with?”

“If you’ve got a hundred dollars, you can probably get fifteen minutes in the VIP room at this hour.” She leaned over the bar and whispered. “Pay cash if you have it.”

“Thanks.” Great. Just great.

I caught the eye of one of the dancers who had been doing leg exercises like the ones I had been doing in the hotel room. The only difference was I hadn’t been in my bra and panties. Squaring my shoulders, I walked up to her.

“Can I buy fifteen minutes of your time?” I asked.

“First time in a strip club, honey?” she asked.

“Yeah, but I’m not looking for a lap dance. I wanted to ask you some questions.”

She looked me up and down. “Most guys like a little jiggle in the wiggle. But you have good muscle tone.”

I was ridiculously pleased by that. “I’m a dancer, too,” I said.

Glancing around the empty club, she sighed. “I can spare the time. It’s a hundred dollars and a two-drink minimum.”

I tanked the wine I was drinking. “Does that count?”

“No.”

Shrugging, I said, “Okay, let’s go.” Reaching into my purse, I pulled out a bill and handed it to her.

The expense report from this trip was going to be a hoot.

I tried to imagine my mother’s face when she saw line item: Stripper-VIP dance.

Hey, she’d said not to blow it all in the casino.

There was nothing in her warning about exotic dancers.

Bribes would also be an equally amusing entry on the ledger.

I’d have to give it more thought and get creative to save my mother from having an aneurysm.

She tucked it into her bra. “I’m Cookie.”

“Jackie,” I said, following her into a ten-by-ten foot room.

“Two drinks,” she reminded me. “Thirty bucks.”

“Jeez.” I coughed, but quickly recovered when she glared. “What would you like to drink?” I asked.

Cookie considered it for a minute. “Rum and Diet Coke.”

“Get two. With Bacardi.”

“Big spender,” she said. “Most of the guys go for the well booze.”

Placing a hand on my stomach, I grimaced. “Life’s too short to drink cheap rum.”

“I can get you top shelf,” she said hopefully. “It’s just a little extra.”

“Bacardi is fine.”

She came back with two iced-filled glasses. Each was garnished with a cherry. “You’re not going to believe who’s out there,” she said.

“Who?” I asked.

“Darcy Ross. He’s an Australian rugby player.”

“Yeah?” Smiling, I remembered that Lisa had had a crush on him. There had been a poster of him in her bedroom. “I don’t suppose this girl is with him?” I showed her Lisa’s headshot.

Cookie squinted at the picture and snorted.

“She wishes. No, it’s a bachelor party. They were here last night too, but they left early.

So we’ve got to make this quick. I need to be part of that action.

They tip large and are real easy on the eyes.

Do you want me to take my top off?” she asked, sipping on her drink.

“That won’t be necessary. I’m looking for my sister Lisa. She worked as a bartender here about a month and a half ago.” I handed her the picture so she could get a better look.

“Oh, that bitch.” Cookie sat down and crossed her legs. She took a deep pull from the drink.

Yeah, that was Lisa. I waited for an elaboration, but Cookie just frowned at her glass.

“I hate that they water the drinks down,” she said.

“I figured they’d overpour to get the customers to spend more freely.”

“Exactly.” Cookie pointed a long red nail at me. “But that’s not until later when the guys with the deep pockets come in.” She looked at the clock on the wall. “Ten minutes, unless you want to pay for extra time.”

“Do you know where Lisa is now?”

Cocking her head, Cookie frowned. “I think she went over to Dalton’s on Flamingo Road.”

“Dalton’s?” I searched on my phone. “It’s another strip bar.” And it didn’t look half as upscale as this one. “Why did she go there?”

“Because she bombed her first night on the pole and Nick wouldn’t let her back on stage.”

I blinked at Cookie in disbelief. “The pole?”

Putting her drink down, Cookie walked over to the stripper pole in the room and did a graceful, lovely circle around it. Coming to a stop, she said, “Your sister was a shitty stripper.”

MILES CARVELLO

I watched Darcy doing his Magic Mike impersonation up on the stage and couldn’t decide if I should hustle him off or take blackmail pictures on my phone.

It was the second night of his friend’s bachelor party and they were bar hopping all over the place.

They’d just cruised in from the Spearmint Rhino crocked out of their minds.

Highway raised his eyebrow at me, and I shook my head. Darcy was attracting a crowd that was throwing money and buying drinks. After the fiasco last night with the frat boy fight, I was willing to let Darcy entertain the masses while my girls made some real coin on lap dances and private shows.

I saw out of the corner of my eye that a woman was approaching me hesitantly. I was prepared to ward off a horny pass from a customer. I could see how watching Darcy could work some women up. But when I turned, I knew right away that this chick was in the wrong place.

She had short blond hair and a killer body that was covered in a bland dress.

She moved like a dancer, but was out of her element in the strip club.

When she saw me watching her, she stumbled and then blushed.

When was the last time I saw someone blush?

Definitely not around here. But then Darcy’s gyrations caught her attention.

Her jaw dropped and she stopped dead in her tracks to goggle at him.

That pissed me off for some reason. I wasn’t the greatest looking guy in the world, but I wasn’t about to get upstaged by a pretty boy Aussie. I got between her and the stage. She had to crane her neck to look up at me.

“Can I help you, Miss?” I asked.

“Is that Darcy Ross?”

“You watch Australian rugby?” I scoffed in disbelief.

“No, but my sister bought a calendar with him and his teammates on it.” She tried to crane her neck around me, but I moved with her. “Let’s just say February was a popular month in our house. I thought he was at the Spearmint Rhino tonight?”

“Are you a stalker or a reporter?”

“Neither.” She tried to peer around me again.

“Weren’t you looking for me?” I growled, blocking her line of sight.

“Oh,” she said, visibly shaking herself. “Yes. I was. That is, if you’re Miles Carvello?” I saw her look at my tattoos. “Of course you are. The doorman said you might have a moment for me.”

I glared up at Highway, who was grinning at me from the door. He knew I liked sassy blondes. “Depends. Who are you and what do you want?”

“My name is Jackie Mitchell. I’m here to find my sister, Lisa.”

“Feel free to look around,” I said, reluctantly stepping aside.

“I will, but I was wondering if you could tell me if she’s taking a shift tonight.”

I gawked at her for a moment. “Your sister’s a dancer?”

Jackie bit her lip and my eyes riveted on her full mouth before I forced myself to look back into her pretty green eyes.

I had to concentrate on what she was saying instead of being distracted by her.

On any other night, I’d take her into my office and we’d talk over drinks.

If I was lucky, drinks would turn to dinner and other intimate matters and then breakfast. But lately with the fights and Ginny selling drugs out of my club, I was ready to crawl out of my skin.

I had a bad feeling there was something going on here and whoever was behind it was just waiting for me to drop my guard before dumping the real shit all over Dalton’s.

She handed me a picture and, for the life of me, I couldn’t place her sister. I slowly shook my head. “Her face doesn’t ring a bell. Do you have a body shot of her?” That was probably the wrong thing to say, because Jackie looked stunned but then she recovered.

“I can access her portfolio from my phone. Do you have Wi-Fi?”

“What kind of exotic dancer has a portfolio?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“One that used to dance on Broadway,” Jackie said tartly.

That was familiar. “Broadway. That was her stage name. Yeah, now I remember.”

Jackie’s shoulders eased in relief. “Is she here?”

“Broadway? No, she quit after a week. She danced a few times and then never showed up to work again.”

“When was that?”

I blew out a sigh and stared out at the stage, not seeing the current dancer while I tried to remember the last time Broadway had worked. “I don’t know. About a month ago, maybe less.”

The nibbling on her lower lip began again and I was again transfixed. What was it about this chick and her mouth?

“Can you give me her home address?”

“I’m going to need some proof that you are who you say you are, and a damn good reason why I should violate your sister’s privacy before I do that.”

“Can we talk in private?” Jackie put her hand on my arm.

Pure lust flooded me, and I was surprised by the force of it. I’ve had full lap dances with tits in my face that didn’t get me as hard as her full pink lips and the light touch on my skin just had.

“Come with me.” Because my dick seemed to be in charge of my brains, I led her into a VIP booth instead of my office.