I’m being watched.

It was the second time I’d seen the guy in two days. Just the day before I’d seen him on the beach, wandering along the sand and looking nervous. When I caught him watching me he looked down, suddenly finding his flip-flops extremely interesting. His longish, dark blond hair was shaggy, and he looked too thin. He was maybe in his early twenties but had a worn look about him. This guy wasn’t a surfer. He didn’t have a tan.

I kept my eyes on him after that, and it wasn’t long before he gave me a last furtive glance and wandered off. I didn’t know why he’d been watching me, but told myself that he wanted to pick me up but was too shy. Still, I kept my eyes open for him on the way to my car and on the ride home.

I’d forgotten about him by the time I got home, where Buddy, my hundred and twenty-five pound Rottweiler greeted me. He can cheer me even on the worst days, with that big rotti smile of his. It’s pretty easy to forget about creepy guys following me when Buddy’s around.

But the next day, there he was again.

I was sitting at the counter of my favorite Chinese food take-out place, looking through the glass door to make sure Buddy was okay in the Jeep. There the guy was, wandering too casually past the door, glancing at me as he went. When he saw that I’d caught him looking at me he quickened his pace and was soon past the door and out of sight.

I jumped up from the chair and bounded to the door, whipping it open and flying through it. He was walking quickly toward the parking lot, hands in his pockets and head hung low.

“Hey!” I ran toward him.

Buddy started barking his head off, massive block head poking out of the Jeep window.

The guy looked back at me, eyes round with shock, but kept walking.

“Stop right there or I’ll keep following your ass.” My heart was drilling against my ribcage. The guy could have a gun on him. I probably should have followed him quietly, but now that I’d started this I had to follow through. “I’ve got a full tank of gas, so I don’t care. It’s a nice day for a ride.”

His step faltered. Finally he stopped, turning slowly to face me.

“Why the hell are you following me?” I glared at him, my hands bunched into fists, ready to pummel him if I had to.

At first he didn’t say anything, but stared at me with wide, ice-blue eyes. Finally he spoke. “Because I need you.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Please. I need your help.” His gaze seemed to go right through me.

Up until then I’d been wondering if he was crazy, because he certainly wasn’t smooth enough to have been hired by somebody to watch me. No professional would have let himself be seen so easily. He was young, but he had the look of somebody who had seen too much in his relatively short life. And those eyes looked as deep as a bottomless well. Deep and intense, but lucid. Maybe he wasn’t a nut job.

Oh, God. I hoped he wasn’t a stalker who’d seen me somewhere and had suddenly taken a fancy to me. Those bastards are hard to shake. Sometimes damned near impossible.

I kept my voice even. “Who are you?”

“Is there somewhere we can go talk?”

“Pal, I don’t know you from a hole in the ground. You think I’m going to go somewhere with you and chat it up?”

“Please. A public place. I’m not here to hurt you. I’ve ... heard about you. I have a friend who needs your help. Just hear me out. You’re her only hope.”

I stood there staring at him for a moment, knowing that what I should do is just turn and walk away. I’d had more than my share of trouble in the past year, and damn it, I deserved a break.

I rarely do what I should.

I sighed. “Aw, hell.” How did I get dragged into these things?

I shook my head. Because if I don’t go looking for trouble, it finds me. That’s how.

I took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s go to the park down the street. My dog needs a walk. But I’m starving. I’m going back to get my lunch first.”

“Great. Thank you.” He began to follow me.

I turned and stopped. “Stay here. And don’t thank me yet.”

* * * *

We sat on the grass under a huge maple tree. It was a perfect May day. The sun was shining but the air was still just a little cool. I’d planned to come to this park and eat my chicken and broccoli and watch as Buddy merrily marked each tree. Just enjoy the solitude of an early spring day with my dog. I could still appreciate the day, but the shaggy stranger who apparently needed me kind of put a damper on the solitude part.

I looked over at him. Despite the warmth of the day, he wore a long sleeved shirt. I watched as he scratched the inside of his arm. I had a feeling he wasn’t scratching a bug bite. “How long has it been since you had a fix?”

He looked surprised.

I nodded at his hand which was still scratching at his arm.

He let his hand fall to the grass. “A month. It hasn’t been a day at the fair, but it’s getting easier.”

“So, who the hell are you and why do you think you need me?” I speared some broccoli and chewed slowly. That take-out place makes the best Chinese food I’ve ever had. I drive five miles just to get their food. It ticked me off that I couldn’t enjoy it in peace.

“My name is Phil Moreau. A friend of mine is missing.”

“How do you know this friend is missing? Maybe this friend just doesn’t want to be found.”

“Because I know her. Far as I can tell, she vanished about a week ago. I’ve been trying to stay away from ... the old crowd, you know, so I don’t get back into the drugs. I thought she was just pissed off at me and that’s why she wasn’t calling. When I went back there to find her, everyone said she’d just disappeared.” Barely restrained panic tightened his face. I knew that feeling well. “She’d never just take off and not call me. She wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

“This friend of yours, she got a name?” Even as I asked him this question, I wondered why I was letting myself get involved. Why couldn’t I let it be somebody else’s problem for once?

“Her name is Chloe. Chloe Nolan. She used to be my girlfriend, but I had to break it off so I could get clean. She said she wasn’t ready to leave the life yet. The last time I spoke to her she said she had something cooking. Something that would make her a lot of money, and that we could both take off somewhere after. Live a clean life.” He sighed, long and heavy, his eyes scanning the park nervously. I could tell that in his mind he was seeing Chloe’s face. “We could have a fresh start.”

“She disappeared after that conversation?”

“That was the last time I spoke with her. I think she went missing pretty soon after that.” He scratched at his arm again. “Look, I heard how you helped that kid last summer, and how you helped those Asian women who were smuggled over and forced into prostitution.”

A shiver ran through me and I tried not to shudder. That whole thing had been a nightmare. The kid had been tricked into hooking for a very nasty man. My friend Jack and I had taken him safely back home. We hadn’t been able to help all of the women, though. Some of them hadn’t been so lucky.

“I heard you got a way about you. You know the streets. I thought maybe you could look into it.”

“Chloe’s a prostitute?” I was already gathering information.

He nodded. “She doesn’t stand on a corner or anything. She’s a stripper. Sometimes she does a little something special for the customers if the price is right. They’ve got a back room for that.” He paused, looking at the ground and pulling at a blade of grass.

“And that’s why the police aren’t looking very hard for her.”

“Yeah.” He shook his head, incredulous. “Just because she’s a stripper she doesn’t deserve the same kind of attention any other missing woman gets? It’s so screwed up.”

I nodded slowly, stabbing a piece of chicken. “I know how it works.”

“Some rich college girl goes missing and it’s all the news. They have media campaigns, search parties, websites, her picture plastered all over the place. A hooker or a dancer vanishes and so what? Who cares? Don’t want them dirtying up the streets anyway, right?”

“Right.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I don’t want those other girls found. It’s just ... it’s not right, you know? If there weren’t Johns out there paying for the services they get from prostitutes, there wouldn’t be any prostitutes, right? And lots of times it’s those same, squeaky clean, rich bastards preaching about cleaning up the streets who are payin’. You know what I’m sayin’?”

I’d lost my appetite. Still, that chicken was just too good to throw into the garbage can. “You hungry?”

“Naw. I ate. Thanks anyway.”

I placed the container of chicken on the grass and signaled to Buddy that he could have it. He dove in.

“I know what you’re saying, Phil. I know.”

And I also knew that there was no way in hell that I wouldn’t do my best to help find Chloe Nolan.

* * * *

How the hell am I going to bring this up? I thought, keeping my eyes on the screen ahead of me. We were at the drive-in, one of my favorite places to be, in the middle of the first of two action-type thrillers. Callahan was blissfully oblivious that I was about to drop a bomb on him and ruin his evening. The last time I had the urge to “look into something”, that urge had gotten him shot and me almost killed. I’d also endangered my brother’s life and the lives of a few friends of mine I’d taken along for the ride.

He startled me by looking over at me and saying, “What’s on your mind, Leah?”

“Huh?”

“You’re all tensed up over there. What’s bugging you?”

“I’m not all tensed up.”

“Okay, whatever.” He went back to watching the movie.

I watched him for a moment. Finally I sighed. “Okay. I’m a bit tensed up.”

He looked over at me again, waiting for the rest.

“I was approached today by a young guy whose girlfriend disappeared about a week ago. I guess word gets around on the street. He’d heard about me, wondered if I’d take a quick look into it.” I was watering it down and knew that he knew it.

He stared at me, quiet for a long moment. “A quick look into it.”

“Yeah. You know, ask around a little. Stuff like that.”

He nodded slowly. “Stuff like that.”

“Cal, come on. It won’t hurt just to ask a few questions.”

“Not going to hurt?” His voice rose and his eyebrows were raised in mock naivety.

“You sound like a friggin’ parrot. Say something original for Christ’s sake.”

“Okay. How about this one? Are you a sucker for punishment or just insane?”

“She has nobody but him. She’s a stripper, so the cops aren’t looking that hard for her.” I cringed at the plea in my voice. “She has nobody, Cal.”

He looked up at the sky and sighed. He slapped a mosquito before going back to looking pissed off. We were in my Jeep with the soft-top pulled down. It had been really humid for days and had rained earlier, so the mosquitoes were out in droves. I let him brood while I got out of the Jeep and began pulling the top back on. When I got back in he was staring at the screen, jaw set.

“Cal, say something.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter what I tell you.” His tone was quiet. Devoid of emotion. He was pouting. It’s the way he gets when he’s pissed and doesn’t want to talk about it.

It was my turn to sigh. I was already kind of in the doghouse with him. We’d been dating for almost a year, and he’d made the grave error of mentioning the possibility of moving into my house with me. I rarely even allowed him to stay over. I don’t know what in hell he was thinking and had told him so. It hadn’t gone over well.

I climbed out and walked around to the passenger seat where Cal was still brooding. I opened the door and carefully climbed on top of him so that I straddled him, and kissed him softly. His lips were stiff. He wasn’t about to give in easily.

“Callahan,” I whispered. “Don’t be mad.”

He looked past me, his face hard.

I leaned in and kissed his neck, took his earlobe into my mouth and sucked slowly. I could feel his body responding despite his valiant efforts to snub me.

He sighed.

We were doing a lot of sighing.

His voice softened. “Leah, you’re a pain in the ass, you know it?”

“Mmhmm.”

This time when I kissed him he kissed me back, long and deep. I sucked on his tongue and unzipped his fly. He lifted his hips to allow me to pull his jeans down just enough that his erection sprung forward. His breathing quickened and I tasted cinnamon as he pulled his tongue from my mouth and took my lower lip between his teeth. I felt heat between my thighs as he unzipped my fly. He slid his hand over the crotch of my panties, using a come hither movement over my mound, making the cotton fabric damp within seconds. I let a soft moan escape my lips and moved forward, letting my swollen clit delight in the pressure of his fingers. If he’d continued like that I’d have come in about thirty seconds. Something about being felt up over clothes is incredibly sexy to me, and Cal knows it.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said against my mouth. “Not yet.” Our kisses became more heated as he removed his hand and began pushing my jeans and panties down. I shimmied until they were over my thighs. We didn’t break the kiss as I fought to push the jeans down my shins and off over my harness boots.

I slid over his length, reveling in the way his breath caught in his throat. I loved sex with Callahan. He felt familiar. Like home. I moved slowly at first, despite his hands gripping my hips, trying to pull me down harder on top of him. He gave a little groan of frustration and I grinned down at him. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“I am mad at you.” He pushed his hips upward, jamming himself into me.

The sensation was so pleasurable that I couldn’t help the little moan that escaped me. I moved my hips back and forth slowly, savoring the little currents of pleasure moving through me. When I felt my clit prickle with the very beginnings of an orgasm, I stopped, breathing hard and looking down at Callahan’s flushed face. The sensation backed off a little, but remained suspended, ready to surge forward.

His hazel eyes were dreamy in the flickering light from the movie. He had a sensitive mouth, almost feminine. In that moment I felt ashamed that I couldn’t commit more to him. He tilted his head a little as he looked up at me. “What?”

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

A sly smile spread across his face. “You’re teasing yourself again.”

I grinned back at him, grateful that he wasn’t going to push. “I am.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Uh-huh. What you gonna do about it?”

His hands seized my hips like vises and he pulled me forward. He lifted his pelvis and moved so that his pubic bone ground against me. “This.”

A zing of heat moved through me. I closed my eyes and breathed, “Oh.”

He moved back and forth, pushing me down hard on him as he crushed himself against my pussy. His cock filled me, moving against my walls and sending little shock waves up my spine. I felt the blood rush to my breasts and face, and was so aroused that I didn’t even feel the orgasm begin again until I was gripped by such intense pleasure that I bucked forward, screaming and battering the window next to me. My walls gripped him again and again as I came, and in that instant I forgot both our names and where we were.

“Jesus, Leah.” Callahan shuddered beneath me, then pushed himself into me. His eyes were squeezed tight as he came, and I smiled as I watched him.

When he looked up at me I saw the thing in his eyes that sent panic through me. I tried to lift myself from him, but he held me there and looked into my face, his emotion clearly written there. “Leah...”

I shook my head quickly. “I know.”

* * * *

I woke up alone. That was how I wanted it. Although Callahan had come in for about an hour, he was aware of my need to sleep by myself. I don’t like sharing my bed. I need my space. This was a point of contention between us, but I didn’t see why our situation had to change. We got along just fine the way things were. Well, we’d gotten along fine until he decided that we needed to take the relationship to the next level. That I needed to be more committed to the relationship.

I was committed. I didn’t think it was necessary to move in together to show how committed a person is to someone. And once they start sleeping over, before you know it they’re leaving their toothbrush at your place, and an extra set of clothes, and shaving gear, and then it just snowballs from there. It just gets way out of hand.

I lay there for a moment, petting Frank, who felt me moving and gently padded up from his regular spot at the foot of the bed to greet me, all soft orange fur, his motor running. I don’t mind Frank sharing my bed. He’s independent like I am. We don’t cramp each other’s style.

“Hey, handsome.” I scratched him behind an ear. “How are you doing this morning?”

Hearing my voice, Buddy lifted his head from his bed in the corner of the room. He got up and stretched his back legs, then made his way over to me, laying his huge head down on the bedspread.

“Hey, baby.” I scratched him behind an ear, much as I’d done with Frank, but applied a bit more pressure. “You hungry?”

Buddy lifted his ears and ran his tongue around the side of his mouth. Thinking of eating always makes him do that. He actually has a fairly extensive vocabulary. In fact, he’s so smart it freaks me out sometimes.

I’d rescued him from a bad situation during one of my repo jobs the previous summer, and he’d been a dream of a dog ever since. I swear he knows what I’m saying when I talk to him. Either that or he’s just humoring me, watching me with those big, chocolate brown eyes as I assault him with a long string of chatter. His version of nodding and smiling, I guess. He’s more intelligent than a lot of people I’ve come across.

It was Sunday morning. I got up and stretched, then climbed into a pair of jeans and pulled on a T-shirt. I’d taken the weekend off from my job as a vehicle recovery agent. So far I hadn’t really enjoyed the weekend much. It was okay, though. I thought I’d want some quiet time just to walk the beach and hang out with Buddy.

As nice as those things had been, minus the strange man watching me, I was feeling like a fish out of water. The truth was, before Phil Moreau had even finished telling me his story, I was feeling a familiar thrill racing through my blood. I had something worthwhile to sink my teeth into again. And I couldn’t wait to begin.

* * * *

I started with Chloe’s last place of work. It was called The Klassy Kitty and sat in one of the seedier sections of downtown Albany. Phil didn’t have a picture of Chloe, but said that her stage name had been Ember. I headed into the lounge and instantly got an appraising look from a smarmy looking man sitting at a table by himself.

He stood up and walked toward me. “Can I help you?” Hope glinted in his dark, beady eyes. He wore a cheap suit left over from the early eighties and a comb-over, which apparently is fashionable in any era.

“I hope so. I’m looking for a dancer who goes by the name Ember.”

“She ain’t been here in about two weeks. Didn’t give no notice, either. Just didn’t show back up.”

“She never picked up her last paycheck?”

“Nope.”

“Don’t you find that strange?”

He shook his head and shrugged. “Nope. Guess she didn’t need it that bad.”

I felt eyes on me and glanced at the woman tending the bar. She threw me nervous glances as she loaded the glass washer.

“Do you know anything about her? Like who her friends were?”

“Lady, who the hell are you?”

“I’m a worried friend, okay?”

“Don’t sound to me like you know enough about her to be her friend.”

“I haven’t seen her in a really long time.” I looked over at the bartender again and pushed out a breath. “Damn. I guess I’m out of luck.”

He gave me a shrug and lifted his hands. “Sorry. These girls, they come and they go. It’s hard to keep track of them, and I don’t ask questions, you know?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I understand.” I looked around. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

“Thanks. I just had it painted.” His chest seemed to puff up.

I smiled. “Yeah. I can see that. It really looks sharp.”

He watched me for a moment, and I could see the wheels turning in his mind. “Is there anything else you need? You looking for work?”

“Actually, I just blew into town. I might be thinking of staying for a little while. What’s the pay like here?”

“Five hundred a week and you keep your tips.”

“Not bad.” I nodded, pursing my lips.

“You ever do any dancing?”

“Here and there.” If you included the dancing I’d done was at a friend’s wedding. It was a night I’d done my best to forget.

“Of course, I’d need you to audition.”

“Of course.” I gave him a bright smile. “I’m just going to sit down and have a drink, if it’s okay with you. Think it over.”

“Sure. By all means. Terry will fix you right up.” He walked over to the bar. “Terry, this is a friend of Ember’s.” He turned his bowling ball of a head toward me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name, hon.”

“Candy. Candace. I go by Candy.” Then I smiled and added, “With an ‘i’.”

“Perfect! Her drink is on the house.”

Terry nodded. She looked like she’d been pretty once. Too many long nights in places just like this one had all but stolen her beauty. Her auburn hair was long and layered, and she wore far too much make-up. She had probably been a dancer in her younger years. Now at the ripe old age of about twenty-seven, she was all washed up. Her raccoon lined eyes were cautious. “What can I get you?”

“Just a beer.”

She was silent as she grabbed a bottle from the cooler. She reached for a glass.

“No, just the bottle is fine.”

She placed the bottle in front of me and gave me another wary glance before turning away.

“Look,” I told her, “I’m not a cop.”

She turned her face to me but continued loading ashtrays into the washer. “You sure seem like one.”

Shaking my head, I said, “I’m just looking for Chloe. A friend of hers is really scared something’s happened to her. Do you know anything at all that might help us find her?”

“Who is this friend?”

I sensed that the only way to get any information from Terry was to be straight with her. She’d smell a lie from a mile away. “A guy named Phil Moreau. He went into a facility to dry out and when he came out she’d disappeared. He just wants to know that she’s okay. That’s all.”

She stared at me for a moment, then let out a long breath. “I don’t know a whole lot about her. The last I heard she was at Shanahan’s. I know she’d been fired from her previous job because some guy kept showing up and making a scene. They said it was bad for business.”

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. “Did this guy ever show up here?”

“She was only here for about a week. She was hiding from him but let’s face it, when you’re a dancer, where else are you gonna go but another strip club? She was pulling in about fifteen hundred a week just in tips.”

Finishing the thought, I said, “And how long would it take for an obsessed guy to go through all the strip clubs in the area until he found her?”

She stopped working and turned to me, placing both hands on the bar and leaning toward me. Those black-lined eyes trapped mine in a hard gaze. “Not long.”