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concerned, and he frowned. Didn‟t anyone take this seriously?
    He grabbed the phone from her and spit out an introduction. “Dust for
    prints. She touched the weapon, but you may find other sets on the handle.
    Whoever did this broke into her car.”
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    Shayla Black
    “Doubt it was much more than a prank. Boys down here get a little
    rowdy from time to time—”
    “And stab the word „whore‟ into her seat? That‟s funny how?” Remy
    cleared his throat. “It‟s not. But I don‟t think no one meant no harm.”
    Luc gritted his teeth together. “Do you usually solve all your cases
    before you visit the crime scene?”
    Finally, Remy got serious. “I‟ll investigate.”
    “Thoroughly.”
    Alyssa grabbed the phone. “Thanks, honey. I appreciate it.”
    When he ended the call, Luc could barely unclench his jaw as he sped
    away from the parking lot. “Honey? The man didn‟t even want to
    investigate, and you call him „honey‟?”
    She shrugged. “It‟s a Louisiana thing. You‟ll catch more flies with
    honey than vinegar.”
    “Yeah?” he challenged. “Or is it a „he‟s-my-customer‟ thing. Did he
    watch you strip tonight?”
    She swallowed. “I asked all the local enforcement to come, including
    the sheriff. Keeps down the possibility of rowdies getting out of control and
    trashing the club.”
    Luc gripped the wheel tighter as he peeled out of the parking lot. “So
    that‟s a yes.”
    Fighting the urge to hit something in an unusual show of temper, he
    took a deep breath. The night he‟d spent with her, it had been easy to
    pretend she had no other lover. They‟d been alone, her house quiet. No
    phone ringing, no customers nearby, no psychos leaving menacing “gifts”
    in her car. Just the two of them, and hours upon hours of pleasure. God,
    he‟d been so damn gullible.
    She nodded. “Why does it matter if Remy and the boys were there?”
    The short answer was that it shouldn‟t.
    “If you should be worried about anything,” she went on, “it‟s your hotel
    room. At nearly four in the morning, Homer has likely given your room away
    to one of those tourists come around for the arts festival that starts
    tomorrow.”
    He frowned. After everything that had happened tonight, she was
    worried about him? “I guaranteed that room with a credit card.”
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    Shayla Black
    A Mona Lisa smile played at the corner of her mouth. That quickly, she
    made his dick hard again. Damn, how did the woman do it?
    “Doesn‟t mean a damn thing to him. I‟m sure when you didn‟t show up
    after the club closed, he figured your room was fair game. But if you don‟t
    believe me, call him.” She punched a few buttons on the phone and
    handed it to him.
    “You have the motel owner on speed dial?” He could think of only one
    reason why, and it horrified him. Did she turn tricks?
    Hell, he was going to throw up.
    “Out-of-town customers often need to sleep off their alcohol. Homer
    usually helps me out.”
    Luc liked her explanation much better. But still, he wondered. Didn‟t a
    lot of strippers earn extra cash on the side?
    As the phone rang in his ear, Luc turned to Alyssa. Her face was
    golden under the streetlights shining through the windows as he raced
    down the quaint redbrick street, toward a neighborhood of older, still
    elegant homes. Odd that he remembered exactly how to find her house,
    despite the fact he‟d been here just once. The image of the little craftsman
    with the Zen interior was burned into his brain.
    Homer answered a moment later, muttering his words. Clearly, he‟d
    been asleep and sounded none too happy about being awakened.
    “This is Luc Traverson calling to advise that I‟ll arrive in a few minutes
    to check in. You still have my room?”
    The man on the other end cleared his throat. “Well, when you didn‟t
    show, I thought . . .”
    Luc waited, his temper rising again, for the motel‟s owner to finish that
    thought. “Thought what? You‟d give my room