Private Dick Casefile 01 - Lily White Rose Red

continued to circle his desk, with me walking backwards and him coming after me. Maybe he was as straight as I’d feared after all.
    “The other clubs are the hot spots. They pull in the major bucks.

    Lily White, Rose Red: Grey Randall, Private Dick Casefile #1
    85

    But I’m not one to turn away an untapped business opportunity,” he said. “I don’t care who people fuck on their own time, their money is all green to me.”
    “So why did Miss Saint-Ville come here and not to one of those mainstream clubs?” I asked triumphantly.
    Phil Martin was good-looking, suave, sophisticated, expensive, a lot of things I wasn’t. But suddenly there it was. Confirmation. The one thing we had in common, one way he was exactly like me. He probably wasn’t even aware of the look of interest warming his eyes. A straight man will look into your eyes, no problem, but there was just that little flick downward, a glance at the groin. A dead giveaway every time. So Reggie was wrong about one thing. Made me wonder what else he was wrong about.
    Mr. Big, AKA Phil Martin thought he had himself well in hand. I imagine with his associates it wasn’t wise to give away a secret like that.
    But that downward glance meant I had an in with him, a way to force him to talk to me about just why he’d hired a girl to sing torch songs at a queer club. Didn’t matter what game he was playing, pretending that he was only running this club for money; he was one of us, and I knew if I got him in the right position, he’d answer anything I had to ask.
    The problem was I didn’t want him to think I was putting the black on him for keeps. That could prove to be bad for my breathing, as in continuing to do so. I stopped backing away and tossed him a confident grin, now that I knew where we both stood. He realized he’d made a mistake, although he wasn’t quite sure what had given him away. Mr. Martin paused in his stalking of me and looked at me with a little more respect in his dark blue eyes. “I see why Jazz brought you to see me. What did he tell you?”
    “Told me he dumped Margie, not the other way around like everyone seems to think,” I threw back at him.
    He seemed shaken. “You don’t know what you’re playing with here. This goes up above me.”
    This time it was my turn to feel shocked. “They call you ‘Mr.

    86

    CATT FORD

    Big’. Who’s above you? How high does this thing go?”
    “Look, for your own health, maybe you shouldn’t ask so fucking many questions,” he hissed.
    He took a quick step toward me and grabbed my arm. Damn, that was gonna leave a mark. His fingers squeezed first, and then his thumb started to stroke me, but it was subtle, like he was trying to find out what was under my suit. Almost like he didn’t know he was doing it.
    “I’m Grey Randall, private dick. This is what I do,” I said.
    “ Grey Randall?” He seemed even more surprised. “I see,” he added slowly. I could see the respect dawning in his eyes, and that made me nervous about what he’d heard about me.
    While he took a moment to think about it, I yanked my arm out of his grasp and planted my hand flat on his chest, driving him back against the wall. Even though he was probably stronger than me, I didn’t have to use any fancy tricks on him.
    The expression on his face told me everything he’d been trying to hide from the world—and me. There’s no mistaking that hungry look a man gets when another man’s touch lights a fire inside him.
    He was trying to finesse a losing hand; all his talk about his other clubs was designed to throw me off. Sure, they might have been the hotspots for straight men and women, but this was where his heart was.
    He was right at home, and he wanted me . Now I could see it plain as day. I had him where I wanted him. He didn’t move a muscle, just watched to see what I would do next. If I could keep my wits about me, and my dick in my pants, I was home free. I lightened the pressure of my hand, making little circles on his chest. He was built, his pecs pumped and firm. I let my hand trail down the center of his body, feeling the indent between his abdominal muscles.
    He let his head fall back against the paneled wall with a little thud. He almost moaned, stopping it in time so all he let out was a little sigh.
    I leaned toward him, letting my breath blow over his lips, and he parted them invitingly. I almost smiled. He wasn’t going to take me in that easily; we were following my game plan