Bait & Switch by Darlene Gardner Read Free Book Online Page A

aside. For the last half hour, she’d been flirting outrageously with a middle-aged businessman.
    “What’s your problem, Cary?” she hissed, her eyes at half mast because of her heavy mascara. As a beat cop, Mitch had seen plenty of girls like her walking the Atlanta streets. She wasn’t much older than the legal drinking age, but she had the hard edge of experience.
    “Call me Mitch,” he said.
    “How ‘bout I call you asshole? What do you think you’re doing? Giving me champagne?”
    “You ordered champagne,” he pointed out.
    “I order champagne all the time. You’re supposed to give me ginger ale.”
    “But that guy’s paying for champagne.”
    “How do you think I make my money, asshole? I’ll let it go this time, but you give me any more champagne, I’m tellin’ Millie. Got it?”
    She shuffled back to the bar stool, the material of her dress looking in danger of ripping with every small step she took. The businessman watched her with a leering expression. She leaned over and straightened his tie. The man’s blood-shot eyes focused squarely on her cleavage.
    Mitch could have kicked himself for failing to notice her aim was to get the man to spend money. In return, she received a cut for her efforts. If the mark got drunk enough, she probably reached inside his wallet and helped herself to a tip. If he didn’t, she most likely offered sex for money.
    He might be able to prove that Flash Gordon ran a prostitution ring out of Epidermis, but Mitch wasn’t sure that was where he should direct his efforts. He surveyed the dark, smoky bar, trying to pinpoint the top dog so he could decide upon the best course of action.
    For the time being nobody seemed the wiser about Cary skimming money from the cash register. Mitch might not have long before somebody figured it out, though.
    “Gimme a New Orleans Fizz.” A man sitting at the bar tossed the order over his shoulder, barely glancing at Mitch.
    Mitch wasn’t much of a drinker, but he’d waited tables one summer at a restaurant that did a healthy bar business. Did a New Orleans Fizz contain gin or whisky? He settled on gin, not that it would have made any difference. The man at the bar was mesmerized by a statuesque blonde with a centerfold-worthy body who was wearing nothing but a g-string and a smile.
    Mitch slid the drink in front of the man, wondering what Peyton would think about him serving drinks in the shadow of the naked ladies on stage? Cary probably hadn’t told her about his second job. He didn’t think he should, either.
    “Hey, sugar buns,” Millie sidled up to the bar and leaned across, cleavage first. Mitch tried not to look. “Flash wants to see you in the back room.”
    “He’s here?” Mitch asked. “I didn’t see him come in.”
    “He never steps foot in the club. You know that. He’s waitin’. I’ll cover for you.” Millie’s lipstick-red mouth curved into a leering smile, and she winked. “Love the black shirt, baby.”
    Mitch beat a hasty retreat through the smoke, the stripper-ogling customers and the maze of tables. He jerked open the door to the back room, shut it behind him and tried to recover from shock. The place was awash in red velvet, from the carpeting to the wallpaper border, to be expected considering they were inside a strip club.
    No, the surprise wasn’t the interior decorating. It was sitting behind the gleaming black desk.
    “I suppose I should thank you for pretending you didn’t know me earlier tonight.” G. Gaston Gibbs III leaned back in his chair, the strands of his blonde hair barely moving. “The McDowells are too uptight to condone ownership of a strip club. Even if I am a shadow owner.”
    Mitch tried to stop his brain from reeling. The G. in G. Gaston Gibbs obviously stood for Gordon. As in Flash Gordon. Another small detail Cary hadn’t mentioned.
    “I’m nothing if not discreet,” Mitch said.
    “I’m sure you wouldn’t want Peyton to hear about your indiscretions, either.