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bathroom.
    * * * * *
    T hey settled on dinner at the hotel. The maître ’d ushered them to a table for two overlooking the ocean. The calmness of the setting sun conflicted with the tenseness radiat ing from Tawny like heat waves. The waiter took their order―Tawny a Perrier and a grilled vegetable plate; he ordered vodka on the rocks and a steak, medium rare.
    “You don’t eat meat?” he asked, buttering a roll from the bread basket.
    “Nope. Not since I wa s a kid. Our grammar school took us to a farm in the country. It was also an abattoir. I peeked in back, saw the slaughtered animals, and that was it. I haven’t been able to stomach meat since.
    “Bad field trip. So you don’t eat meat and you don’t drink.”
    “Nope again. Not in years. In my business, um, former business, a girl can’t get sloppy on the job. That’s when bad things happen.”
    “Sounds like you’re a control freak.”
    She relaxed and laughed for the first time. “Yeah, probably. Only about certain things, though.” The waiter brought their drinks, and she sipped hers. “You can tell me what this is about now so I lose my appetite, or you can wait until after we eat when I might lose my dinner. Maybe you’ve changed your mind and decided to keep it a secret.”
    “No secret. Sorry.” He took a long, much-needed swallow of his vodka. Maybe Tawny had relaxed, but he was wound tight. “We think Cooper is using his clubs to gather information about his clients, then blackmailing them. If we grilled his girls, they’d tell him, and we’d have nowhere to go.”
    “What clubs?”
    Linc snorted. “Come on, Tawny. You know what clubs I mean. Maybe you even worked his place a time or two.”
    “I told you, I never worked for anyone. That’s the truth.”
    “Then cut the crap.”
    The waiter came with their meals, and Linc waited until he left before picking up the conversation. He lowered his voice. “You know about the sex clubs. Every class act working the city knows Benny Cooper.”
    “Why not get one of them to do your dirty work? I’ve retired, remember?”
    “Because we don’t have serious enough bargaining chips with any of them, and we do with you. Drugs would be our only possibility. Cooper’s girls don’t use.”
    Linc cut into his meat, but he didn’t eat it. He was having a hard time with this conversation. He liked Tawny. She was smart, at least IQ-wise, and didn’t make excuses about the path she took. He’d always tried to get girls out of the business, and here he was forcing one who’d quit to go back to work. Putting the squeeze on her made him uncomfort able.
    “We could pull them in for prostitution, but they’d be out on a misdemeanor charge before the ink was dry on the fingerprint cards. Pros like you―like you used to be―have everything covered. Fake jobs and a client list who couldn’t get involved witho ut dirtying their reputations or their marriages. Besides, word would get out, killing our chances of getting him on the bigger charges we think he deserves.”
    Tawny speared a roasted red pepper, chewed slowly, and swallowed. “I could throw myself on the mercy of the court, pay the taxes and penalties. Maybe they’d be lenient and give me a pass.”
    “Maybe. Maybe not. Your past profession wouldn’t help your case. Judges frown on prostitution.” He watched as reality dawned on her, and she nodded in agreement.
    Her fork hovered in midair. “I’m still not sure what you want me to do.”
    “We’ve heard rumblings that Cooper’s filming his clients to blackmail them. We’d like you to go to work for him, get us proof.”
    “If you don’t have proof, what makes you think he’s doing that?”
    Linc swallowed hard. “One of his girls, at least that’s what we assume, called me about something that scared her silly. She didn’t say what but mentioned Cooper’s name. Either he’s into major kink, or he’s doing something even more illegal than ru nning a sex