Secured By The Seal. Carol Ericson
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on this order?”
“I forgot to ask, and he didn’t say.” She’d been too mesmerized by his eyes.
“Okay, I’ll pour him the house brand. Ask next time, since Sergei stocks all the best vodkas. Even the house brand is decent.”
“Will do. Thanks, Jerome.” She picked up her tray and waded back into the mayhem. She delivered the drinks and then returned to her loner, still sprawled in his seat as if he hadn’t moved one muscle.
She dipped beside his table. “Sorry I didn’t ask you before, but is the house vodka okay?”
“It’s fine.” He shifted his body away from the stage, making a slight turn toward her. “How much?”
“Do you want to run a tab?”
“No.” His long fingers were already peeling bills from a wad of cash.
“That’s twelve dollars. The water’s free.” She giggled.
His lips, too lush for his lean face, quirked up at one corner, and he handed her a folded twenty. “Thanks.”
As she reached for his change, he held up a hand. “Keep it...for the added comedy.”
“Thanks.” She backed away from his table and then spun around, nearly colliding with Jessie.
“Whoa.” Jessie raised her tray of drinks above her shoulder.
“Sorry, just looking after your customer. He paid for his order already.”
“Thanks, sweetie. Although from the looks of him, I’m sure you didn’t mind waiting on him. I wouldn’t.” Jessie winked and squeezed past her.
Okay, so her reaction to the loner hadn’t been completely out of left field—and Jessie hadn’t even experienced his magnetism up close and personal.
She let Jessie handle him the rest of the night, although she tried to catch glimpses of him on her drink runs until he left. She had more important issues to deal with than men hitting up topless clubs on their own. The guy probably had a wife and three kids at home waiting for him.
After making two trips to the supply room, Britt figured out a plan for the evening. She could slip into the supply area instead of leaving for the night, wait for everyone else to take off and then search Sergei’s office.
She’d already shoved a wad of chewing gum into the lock on the doorjamb of Sergei’s office. Of course, if someone discovered that the door wouldn’t latch completely, she’d have to figure out another way to get into his office. The plan sounded easy in her head until closing time approached and she got an attack of butterflies.
All the waitresses had to participate in closing down the bar. Irina had left at midnight, leaving Jerome in charge, which soothed Britt’s nerves a little. If Jerome discovered her in the supply room, he might not even tell Sergei—it didn’t seem like Jerome had much loyalty to Sergei.
After wiping her last table, Britt saw her opportunity. She tossed her dishcloth into a basket of dirty ones behind the bar. “Anything else, Jerome?”
“You can leave. You had a great first night.”
“Thanks.” Britt waved to a couple of the waitresses gossiping near the stage and turned down the hallway to the back of the club. She clocked out and then shoved open the back door. Before it closed, she tiptoed past the dressing room, where a few of the women were still chatting, and backed into the supply room. She crouched behind a stack of boxes.
About fifteen minutes later, the door to the supply room opened, and Britt held her breath. She didn’t move one eyelash as the stacking and shuffling noises moved closer to her hiding place. It had to be Jerome finishing up, but even Jerome finding her hiding out would most likely end badly.
When the light went out and the door closed, Britt finally let out a long breath. She waited several more minutes until she heard that back door close for the last time.
Her muscles aching, Britt unfolded her body and peeked around the boxes. She crept forward and pressed her ear against the door. After the noise of the voices and the music, the silence pulsed against her eardrum.
Swallowing hard, she turned the door handle and stepped into the dark hallway. A few low lights from the bar area kept her from complete darkness, and she sidled along the wall to Sergei’s office.
Biting her lip, she gave the door a bump with her hip. It didn’t budge. She dug her feet into the carpeted floor and put a little more grit into it. The door popped open, and she grinned as she tapped the chewing gum wedged in the lock. The things you learned from clients, especially the juvenile delinquents mandated for therapy.
She took a step into the room, her fingers hovering over the light switch. She didn’t want to announce her presence, but she couldn’t see a thing.
She whipped out her phone and flicked on the light. Sergei’s desk beckoned, and she accepted the lure, creeping around the back as if she wasn’t the only inhabitant of the club. She tried the first drawer and gulped. She didn’t have any tricks to break into a locked desk, especially inconspicuously. If she forced anything, Sergei would know someone had been snooping.
Gathering her hair in one hand, she leaned over the desk and shuffled through a few papers—orders for supplies and bills. Sergei didn’t have a computer on his desk. He must take that home with him.
She put her hands on her hips and swiveled left and right, taking in the small office. Her gaze tripped over a filing cabinet, and she crouched in front of it, yanking on the handle. Locked.
What could be so private in a topless bar that everything had to be locked up like Fort Knox?
A sound from the back door had her blood running cold. Had Jerome forgotten something? A million stories started running through her brain in case he walked through that door. She wanted to change something in her employee file. She didn’t have a place to live yet and figured she could crash here.
Her ears picked up movement in the hallway, a whispering sound. She dived beneath Sergei’s desk, killing the light on her phone. Why had she left his office door ajar?
The floor beneath the carpet creaked, and Britt squeezed her eyes closed with the childish hope that if she didn’t see him, he wouldn’t see her.
The soft footsteps continued to the office, and she curled into herself, drawing her knees to her chest. Her stomach knotted and her lungs burned as she took tiny sips of air.
Her nostrils flared at the smell of leather and a faint odor of motor oil invading her space. Before her brain had time to fully process the smells, the chair she’d tried to pull back beneath the desk slowly eased away from her.
She wouldn’t be yanked from a cowering position under this desk like some kind of thief. She rolled from beneath the desk and jumped to her feet. She gasped as her gaze locked with a pair of blue eyes.
The loner from the club stood before her...and he had a gun.
Alexei clenched his jaw, stamping out the surprise from his face. He’d never expected that cute blonde American waitress to be hiding beneath Sergei’s desk.
She obviously didn’t have the same need to school the surprise from her face, and her big eyes got rounder and her jaw dropped.
He’d better be the one to gain control of this situation and go on the offensive. He tucked his weapon into the back of his waistband. “What are you doing in here?”
“I—I...” She ran a hand through her blond hair, and then she snapped her mouth closed and narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing here? At least I work here.”
He couldn’t bluff the previously giggly, apologetic waitress so easily, so he let his lashes fall half-mast over his eyes