5
THE BLUE SUIT CLUB
Slash
At ten-fifteen that evening, Slash entered The Blue Suit Club wearing a black, leather halter top and hot pants. She’d pulled her hair over to one side and around her shoulder, holding it in place with a clip. She wore no jewelry, had no ID. In her back pocket sat a burner she’d picked up on the way.
She shadowed her eyes with smoky makeup, lightened her lips with gloss, and added a small amount of blush. Beyond using the name Lavender Young, she was keeping her story very basic. The less said, the better.
Excitement pounded through her. It had been years since she’d gone undercover, something she’d loved doing. Sometimes life was easier when she pretended to be someone else. Someone who had no problems, no issues. Someone who wasn’t lonely, someone who could outrun her demons. Just some girl named Lavender, or maybe she’d call an audible on the line and change her name to Candy. Her name never mattered. What mattered was doing her job, doing it well, and moving on to the next one.
In this case, her only goal was finding the prostitution ring. If it existed, she’d help shut it down.
The Blue Suit Club was the premiere gentleman’s club in the area. She strolled around, checking out the vibe and taking in the scene. The music was rockin’, the lights were low, but all four stages were well lit. Three of the four dancers wore thongs, one was a total nudie.
It was one thing to put her boobs out there, but no way would she dance naked. As she meandered around, she eyed the clientele. The split of men to women looked to be seventy-thirty.
There were several dancers giving lap dances while the men ogled them. But it wasn’t just men getting the up-close-and-personal attention. A dancer was giving a lap dance to a woman at a table of women.
Male servers were shirtless, their pants held up by blue suspenders attached to blue dress pants. Female servers wore a blue bikini top, except for two who wore blue pasties. All wore shorty shorts.
She hadn’t spotted any surveillance cameras in the bar, but two ceiling-mounted cameras were posted near each of the four stages. Maybe management wanted to make sure no one groped the dancers. As she wandered down the hall toward the restrooms, she saw no cameras. What she did see was the Management Only door. She tried to open it.
Locked.
No surprise there.
A digital card reader had been screwed into the doorframe.
Rather than return to the main room, she ducked into the restroom.
Shiny marble floors and countertops reflected the chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. The private stall smelled of lilac. If she ended up going undercover, she couldn’t complain about the digs.
Back through the club she went, stopping at the long bar in the front.
It was large enough to keep all four bartenders hopping busy. Both men were bare chested, dressed in blue suspenders and blue pants. The women wore blue bikini tops and blue hot pants. A woman, wearing a blue shirt and blue pants, lifted the counter and stepped behind the bar.
Slash’s brain skidded to an abrupt halt. She’d recognize that strawberry-blonde bob anywhere. It was Karen Woodside, former ALPHA Operative. Not only had she gotten herself fired, she’d been arrested for obstruction of justice. Because Karen had been a law enforcement agent, her sentence had been reduced to time served. But the real punishment was that Karen could never work in law enforcement again.
That would effin’ kill me.
Slash watched from a safe distance as Karen spoke to a male bartender before heading toward the back of the club. Pulling her long bangs over her eyes, Slash followed Karen until she entered the hallway that led to the restrooms. Instead of stopping in front of the Management Only door, she swiped a keycard outside the office marked GM. Karen entered and shut the door.
Damn crazy world.
As Slash made her way toward the front of the club, she kept her head down.
Slash was the one Operative who’d been willing to work there, but there was no way in hell Karen would hire her. Not only did Karen blame Slash for getting fired and arrested, Karen would know she was there as an ALPHA Op.
Frustration pummeled her. She hated having to walk from the gig before it even got legs.
Slash sidled over to the bar and got the attention of a female bartender. After waiting on someone, she dropped a napkin on the bar in front of Slash.
“What can I get you?”
“Who does the hiring around here?” Slash asked.
“The GM for the dancers, and Bradley for the bartenders and servers.” She pointed to a man at the other end of the bar. “That’s Bradley.”