Good Girl Gone Bad Read Online Free PDF Page A

other on the regular perverts.”
    “Hey, I’ll keep my eye on her, no hardship for me.”
    “Keep your eyeballs to yourself. Let me worry about the floor and our newest edition.”
    Jase nodded. “Fine with me. I’m out of here. I need to go chill. The last few Friday nights at Kashmir’s have been hopping.” He slapped Ty heartily on the back. “I want to keep up.”
    Ty grunted a response that settled for good-bye. Just as he turned back to the storyboard, Jase popped his head back into the room. “Ty?”
    “Yeah?”
    Entering the room, Jase closed the door behind him. “What are you going to do when she finds out you were the one who turned her father over?”
    Ty ground his teeth and worked his jaw.
    “The files are sealed. She’ll never know.”
    Jase shook his head and opened the door. “I hope you’re right, man. I’d hate to get the bad end of that.”
    After the door closed behind Jase, Ty swore. “Son of a bitch. I don’t need this distraction.” Tension clenched his body. What was done was done. He had no regrets.
    Ty stood and stretched his long muscles. Wound up, he paced the small space of the task force office. Refusing to think of Mac’s daughter and what she and her family had suffered, Ty stopped at the storyboard. Officer Marten’s fresh-faced academy pic stared back.
    He’d made a fatal mistake allowing the rookie to go undercover. Knowing he hadn’t any choice didn’t soften the sting of losing one of his own. They needed a decent-looking female officer and she fit the bill. Simple as that. Not to mention, Marten was smart.
    Apparently not smart enough.
    His gut soured. Now he had another female to worry about, this one too smart for her own good. That didn’t bother him half as much as the fact that she came from IA.
    He smiled wryly. If little Miz Rat thought she was going to keep book on him and his men, she had another thing coming. He’d show her how to play hardball in a real cop’s world.
    He turned back and scowled at the load of paperwork on his desk, his thoughts still on Zorn. If she was half the cop he hoped she was, she just might lead them to the missing dancers and come out alive.
     
    Although the club was not scheduled to open for another hour, the subtle energy pricked Phil’s skin. It pulsed, as some living thing: the chatter of the dancers, the clanking of glasses, and the blaring music as the stagehands checked the sound and light system roared to life.
    She’d felt isolated the minute she entered through the back door. People buzzed around her, giving her no more attention than a stick of furniture. After checking out her surroundings, she remembered she had paperwork for Bud. She hustled out to the main bar and handed over the false documents. She stood alone for a long minute before Bud said, “Keep an eye out for a tall redhead. That’ll be Tammy. She’s house mom. Go to her for girly problems.”
    Great.
    Feeling more out of her element than she cared to admit, Phil started for the backstage area. She needed to get into character or she’d get fired for being a mouse. One thing she immediately took note of were the ladies that chose Klub Kashmir as their place of employment. They were a hard, dedicated lot. No little mice running for cover.
    Candi, a one-time cocktail waitress and now featured dancer, took pity on Phil and showed her to her locker.
    A locker that consisted of an open-front cubbyhole and a small attached bench with a locking lid. Nothing like the dancers’ dressing room she’d peaked at on her way in. No, her little corner of the club didn’t sport large locking lockers, expansive clothes racks for costumes, or a private shower.
    “That’s where us showgirls go, sweetie,” Candi informed Phil when she craned her neck toward the brightly lit makeup bar. “You want to dance, honey?”
    Phil shook her head. “No, I just want to make enough to pay my rent and get by.”
    Candi dug her two-inch neon blue nails into her tiny