Bare-Naked Lola (A Lola Cruz Mystery) (12 page)

“How you doin’?” Number 34 asked, goggling me with dark brown eyes that matched his skin.

“Great.” I gripped the handle of my case as I stepped outside, but my mind was musing over Jennifer. If I had to guess, I’d say she was breaking the rules and fraternizing with a player. But hadn’t I just been warned about that very thing?

“Wanna have a private party?” the other player, I think he was Number 23, said, breaking me out of my reflections.

I tilted my head so I could see them. So tall. I much preferred the just right six-one of Jack Callaghan. “Are you married?” I asked Number 23, laughing in my head at the double entendre.

“Hell no.”

Number 34 had a sneaky smirk on his lips.

Not married. Right. He might not have had a ring on, but the way he pressed his enormous thumb over his ring finger said it all. The guy was hitched and I felt sorry for his wife. And his girlfriend.

I wasn’t going anywhere with them, and I was tired of playing games and getting nowhere, so I ponied up the burning question in my mind. “Do you know anything about some notes the dancers have been getting?”

“What notes?” Number 34 cracked another suggestive grin. “Come on, let’s party.”

“Gee. It’s tempting, but no, thanks,” I said. “Dinner with the girls.”

They shrugged and disappeared into the night. They—and I—all knew that there was no shortage of women willing to par-tay with them, never mind a pesky wife or girlfriend.

Once they were gone and the coast was clear, I scurried back inside, dropped my duffel, and moved through the corridors, listening. What I was listening for, I didn’t know, but there had to be something juicy going on behind one of these closed doors.

Didn’t there?

But if there was, I couldn’t find it. A steady stream of people still milled around—the cleaning crew, fans, and God knew who else. I finally gave up, gathered my belongings, and found my car. I felt like I was spinning in circles—moving a lot but getting nowhere. Some detective I was.

…

A short while later, I pulled into the restaurant parking lot off of Arden Way in the Arden Fair area of Sacramento and immediately spotted the rest of the dancers.

A couple of them waved as I walked up. Progress. A few minutes later, the table was ready. They turned and moved toward the entrance like a school of fish.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Jennifer?” I asked, not seeing her with the group.

“Nah, she’s always late,” Cassie said with a wink.

A-ha! The perfect opening. “Why?”

“Boyfriend, of course.”

Of course. “I saw her with one of the players. Is she—?”

But Cassie burst my bubble. “Nah. Her guy’s a civilian.”

“How do you know?”

“Jennifer had a few flings with players, but she’s over them. Her new one? She said he’s just a regular guy.”

So Jennifer followed the rules, which meant no disgruntled wife. But then who was the player she’d scurried off with, and why had she gone with him? Could she be two-timing her civilian boyfriend? Could
that
have something to do with the mysterious letters?

Híjole
. I had all kinds of theories, but proof of
nada
.

We filed into the bar like a line of well-dressed ants. Men and women turned to stare, recognition on their faces. Chattering came at me from all sides, and I got a taste of what it must feel like to be a celebrity on display. It was surreal. And uncomfortable. Incognito was definitely more my speed.

I searched for Selma, hoping to sit by her and find out more about Rochelle. The disgruntled Mrs. Brothers still seemed the most likely suspect at the moment, but part of me didn’t really care all that much. The letters were barely threatening, and no one had been hurt. That insurance fraud case was looking better and better.

I sat next to Cassie around a long rectangular table that ran along the back wall between the bar and the restaurant. The stares and pointing continued as we ordered drinks and appetizers. And more appetizers. Chicken wings, potato skins, onion rings, artichoke dip, and chips and salsa. The list went on and on.

“Are you expecting an army to come join us?” I said after the waitress left.

Laughter burst out around the table and the girls shot knowing glances at one another. “Victoria and Jennifer.”

My puzzled expression brought on more laughter. “Do they eat a lot?”

More glances. “They usually bring people with them,” Cassie said. “The trainer, his brother, a few fans sometimes. Aren’t you hungry?”

“Not
that
hungry.”

Nicole rested her elbows on the table. “Me, too, but dancing works up an appetite. I might as well take advantage of my metabolism while it’s working with me instead of against me.”

A moment later, Selma rushed in, her face flushed. She slipped into the chair next to me, out of breath but excited. “Listen, girls. I was leaving the arena and met three incredibly gorgeous guys!”

A collective roll of the eyes and an indulgent, “Selma…” floated over the table.

“No, really. Gorgeous. One of them has this goatee that you just want to squeeze and, oh my God, beautiful dark skin. One of them had a wedding ring, so I guess he’s off limits. Real cute, though.”

“Not necessarily off limits,” Cassie said.

I stared at her, beginning to think the cheerleaders were as bad as the players, going for one-night stands and groupies who were titillated by their almost-not-there costumes and dirty dancing moves.

Selma gushed. “And the third guy. Holy shit. He could be a freaking movie star. Blue, blue eyes and a really sexy dimple.” She closed her eyes for a second. The dreamy expression on her face made me think she was conjuring up an image of Adonis.

“I invited them to come along and”—she paused for effect, swinging her dark hair behind her—“they’re coming!”

“I thought you had yourself a guy,” one of the girls said to Selma.

“Oh, I do. I invited them for you all. You can thank me later,” she said. Then she flung her head back and sunk in her chair, a satisfied lift to her lips.

The chattering continued around the table. I didn’t get any more information, but I was fitting in. Another step in the right direction. I guess this
was
better than insurance fraud.

Thirty minutes later Selma’s gorgeous guys hadn’t materialized. Maybe they’d stood up the poor girl. The team’s trainer, Steve, and his season-ticket-holding brother ambled in, however. Selma scooted over her chair to make room for them and the small talk continued.

I focused on the conversations around me. Steve telling the girls how great they’d been. Larry, the brother, asking where Jennifer and Victoria were. Selma wiping the lipstick off her mouth while Nicole added more to hers.

A minute later, the chattering abruptly stopped. I froze, a few French fries in my mouth, gaping at the women—who were all staring at something behind me. A hand came down on my shoulder.

Selma’s words came back at me and I gulped. A dimple and blue eyes. It couldn’t be. But I
knew
that hand. My intestines tied themselves into inexplicable knots as I turned to look over my shoulder.

Jack.

Antonio stood behind him, a big ol’ shit-eating grin on his swarthy, goateed face.

I peered around them to see who the other guy was.

Oh boy. My cousin Zac.

The guys Selma had met.

I made a series of expressions, trying to communicate to them all.
I’m undercover!
I tried to say.

“Jack,” I said, sucked in by his liquid blue eyes.

The dimple Selma had admired worked its way into his cheek. “Lola,” he said, looking
un poquito
hot and bothered. “Let’s take a walk.”

Chapter Nine

The dancers’ voices came at me all at once, Selma’s the loudest. “You
know
them?”

I forced a smile onto my lips. “Kind of.”

Antonio’s grin grew wider, if that was possible. “She better know me. I’m her brother.”

Zac gave a wave. “I’m her cousin.”

All the women turned their attention to Jack. Cassie hung her arm over the back of her chair. “And I guess
you
know her.”

“Why yes, yes I do.” He flashed a beguiling grin. “I’m her boyfriend.”

I poked my finger in my ear.
¿Qué dice?

I laughed but quickly whipped my head around so the dancers couldn’t see my face and mouthed,
I’m undercover!

He made a face at me, making it clear he already knew that. I’d wondered if Antonio had known back at the restaurant. Then I remembered Selma saying our faces were shown on the huge screens at the arena. Which meant they were probably seen at home on people’s television sets, too. Oh, Lord.

Finally, I thought about the phone call with Jack earlier. He’d asked me to go with him somewhere and had started to say he had tickets—to the game, I now realized. He’d known and was giving me the chance to tell him.

I squinched my eye and flicked my chin so he’d follow me as I walked outside. I felt the weight of someone’s stare on my back and glanced back at the table, keeping my smile intact. No wonder. Everyone was watching us like we were some part of a dinner theater. Oh,
bueno.
I was going to be the prime gossip tonight.

Antonio and Zac slipped into chairs at the table. We locked eyes and I shot daggers at them. God, I hoped they had sense enough to keep quiet about my being a detective.

“Hey, you,” Jack said once we were outside.

I gulped down the anxiety bubbling up inside me, feeling like a big, fat liar. I hated not telling him what I was up to, but it was a toss-up if I hated that more than being caught red-handed keeping secrets. “Hey, yourself. What’re you doing here?”

“Just what I was going to ask you.”

“I’m working a case.”

Jack shoved his hands in his pockets, his body tense. “I figured.”

“I would have told you, but—”

He leaned against a brick pillar, staring off over my shoulder for a second. “But what? You don’t trust me? Jesus, Lola, we’re supposed to be a team.”

I wanted to be, but I’d been keeping my distance, protecting my heart. “You’re still dealing with Sarah—”

“I told her I’m done, that she isn’t going to interfere with my life anymore.” He lifted his hands and sliced his palms through the air. “She’s gone.”

My eyes got glassy. “
¿Verdad?
”

His eyes darkened. He’d told me that my Spanish drove him wild…in the best possible way. I could see how the one word slipped under his skin. He drew me to him. With my heels on and my head tilted back a touch, my lips met his perfectly.

“I didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of you,” I said quietly.

“In front of the whole world, but not me?”

My lungs felt short of air. It sounded ridiculous when he put it that way, and I’d never been one to back away from a challenge. Hello, I was Xena, Warrior Princess. “You saw the outfits.”

He spoke slowly, suddenly looking pained and frustrated. “Yes, I did.” He bent, moved his mouth to my ear. “I liked what I saw. I’ve always liked it.” And then his lips brushed my neck and a wave of goose bumps swept over my skin.

He took a deep breath and pulled back, something else simmering behind his eyes. “Your friend in there,” he said. “She cornered us at the arena when I was looking for you. Finally she invited us here and promised us a
real
good time.”

Indignance flared inside of me. “And you wanted that good time? Nice, Callaghan.”

“I had a feeling you’d be here—”

“Working—”

“Uh-huh. And how far are you willing to go for your job, Cruz?”

Ah. Now I understood the brewing question. I’d spent months being jealous of Sarah and whatever hold she had on Jack. Now the tables had turned.

“Not
that
far.
She
might make good on that, if you’re interested,” I said, “but me?” I batted my eyelashes at him, my hand pressed to my chest. “I have a boyfriend.”

One side of his mouth lifted. “Good to know you have limits, Lola.”

…

Jack, Antonio, and Zac finally left, my cover was intact, and I settled back into the conversation. But Jack’s statement stuck with me. How far
was
I willing to go for my job? That was the million-dollar question. I’d bared more of myself on the Royals’ court than I was comfortable with. Especially given the duct-taped breasts.

I was willing to go pretty far, but I wouldn’t sacrifice my relationship with Jack if it came right down to it.

Cassie had drowned her disappointment over the gorgeous guys leaving by drinking down two Long Island iced teas. “Jennifer has all the luck. Freaking guys fall all over her, you know? Anyone I meet is taken.” She glared at me like it was my fault Zac was married, Antonio was smitten with Sylvia, and Jack was with me. “Why do I have all the crap luck?”

“Shut up, Cassie,” Nicole snapped. “Victoria’s going to be pissed if you start shooting off your mouth in public. You’ve had enough to drink.”

Cassie flung her arms out to the side. “She’s not here, is she?”

Selma picked up a chicken wing. “Yeah. Where is she? She’s never this late—”

As if on cue, Victoria, pale and drawn, stumbled through the door.

I gaped. Manny was on her heels.

I jumped up, the alarms in my head going off in double-time. Something wasn’t right.

Nicole was already on her feet, rushing to the dance director. “Victoria? What’s wrong?”

Manny steered Victoria to the nearest chair, where she collapsed. She threw a vacant, scared gaze around the table and gave a low moan. “J-Jennifer,” she finally said. “Jennifer’s dead.”

Chapter Ten

Dead. Surely I hadn’t heard right. Dead? Jennifer?

A flood of disbelieving gasps and hysterical sobs erupted from the dancers.

“Dead!” one of the girls exclaimed. “How is that possible?”

Great question! This was a case about mysterious notes, not a murder investigation. Although maybe I was jumping to conclusions. Nobody had mentioned anything sinister.

“Dead…as in
dead
?” Selma pressed her hands against the table, her eyes wide and teary. And filled with shock.