Coop knew exactly what women on the hunt looked like, felt like, smelled like, and Sherlock had none of the characteristics. She refused to come on to him. All she wanted was a job, and once he lost that hold, he’d be no more important to her than those dresses he’d bought.

This would require careful strategy, something he was very good at.

***

Piper wore the cobalt dress that night—her fourth night on duty at the club—but instead of making her blend in with the trendy crowd, it attracted more attention than she wanted. A couple of guys asked to buy her drinks, and PhairoZ, the club’s guest DJ, singled her out during his break.

PhairoZ—real name Jason Schmidt—looked like a tatted-up European soccer star. Coop was a smart businessman. He understood that he was the lure drawing customers in for their first visit, but the club itself had to draw them back, so he hired the best DJs to keep things fresh, as well as a good-looking male staff. Where the women were, the male customers would follow.

“So you want to hang after I get off?” PhairoZ leaned one palm against the wall behind her.

“Thanks, but seriously . . .” She regarded him with earnest eyes and what she hoped was a semi-shy expression. “You’re way too hot for me.”

“That just means I can warm you up faster.”

She resisted her natural tendency for put-downs. “I’m too insecure.” She gave his arm a friendly squeeze, ducked under it, and walked away.

That night, she hovered in Spiral’s basement behind an industrial-size water heater, the same place she’d waited for the past two nights. Overhead, she heard the staff closing up for the night—or early morning, since it was a little after three. She yawned. She’d broken up a tussle in the ladies’ room; tailed Dell, the useless bouncer; and made sure some very drunk women found a cab. But in five hours, she had to be at the Peninsula to take one of the older princesses to her plastic surgeon’s office, and she wanted to go to bed.

The sound of footsteps cut through her grogginess. She peered around the water heater and saw a figure wearing stiletto boots and carrying a backpack coming down the stairs. The same backpack Taylor brought to work each evening. Taylor glanced around, then crossed the basement toward the liquor storage room.

The lock had been changed, and there were now only two keys—one for Coop and one for Tony, the club manager, a decent guy who’d already earned Piper’s trust. It was his key that, at Piper’s request, had spent the past two nights conveniently lying out on his desk.

The lock rattled. Piper raised her camera, quickly adjusted the settings, and clicked away.

***

Two nights later, Taylor was gone. She and her boyfriend Keith, Spiral’s ex-bartender, had been operating a small but profitable black market business selling Spiral’s top-shelf brands. Piper had only been working for Cooper Graham for six days, and she’d already earned her salary.

Around eleven o’clock, Deidre Joss entered the club with Noah. Coop must have been looking for her because he appeared right away and led her up to VIP. But Noah Parks had spotted Piper, and he didn’t follow.

While Deidre had traded in her black office attire for an amazing beaded black sheath, Noah still wore his conservative businessman’s suit and a necktie. “I’m surprised to see you here,” he said, taking in Piper’s new mulberry dress.

“Coop hired me to do some social media for him.”

Noah regarded her stonily. “I’m sure you’ve told him by now who you were working for.”

“I promised confidentiality, and that’s what I’ve delivered,” she replied tersely.

“You’re saying you didn’t tell him?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. And please remind Deidre of that the next time she needs to hire an investigator.”

He took a sip from his glass and regarded her thoughtfully. “Impressive.”

Not long after, she spotted Jonah scowling at her from across the floor, a scowl she suspected would get more unpleasant if he learned she intended to get his pal Dell fired. From the beginning, something about Dell’s manner had made her suspicious, and her suspicions had paid off earlier tonight when he was managing the door and she’d seen him take a tip in the form of a bag of white powder from a drunk who wanted to get in.

She went upstairs to check out VIP. Noah had joined Deidre and Coop there, but Coop was only paying attention to Deidre. He hadn’t said much to Piper about the nightclub franchise he was developing, but she knew him well enough to suspect that Deidre’s refusal to make a final decision on financing was driving him crazy—not that he’d let her see that. Another man would be courting other firms, but Deidre had a stellar reputation, and Coop, being Coop, would only want to work with the best.

He laughed and leaned in closer to Deidre. Setting aside business, Coop genuinely liked her. Piper felt a stab of jealousy. Not because he liked her. No, that wasn’t it at all. Of course not. Piper was merely jealous because Deidre had it all: a megasuccessful business, a huge bank account, brains, beauty, self-confidence . . . And because Coop so obviously liked her.

She wanted to hit herself in the head. She was jealous! Jealous because she wanted Coop to like her, too. A ridiculous reaction. Coop was her employer, and all that mattered was that he like the way she was doing her job.

Thanks to Duke, she had years of practice scrubbing away feelings that made her uncomfortable, and she buried her self-disgust in a couple of warm bourbon fudge brownies from the kitchen.

Deidre and Noah finally left. Piper made her way through the lounges to the dance floor where the vibrant LED wall showcased the throng of bodies gyrating to DJ PhairoZ’s electro beats. Coop wasn’t far away, his customary throng crowding him.

An oversize goon in Gucci—she’d caught a glimpse of his logoed belt—was doing his best to back Coop against a wall. He wasn’t an ordinary fan. This guy was drunk and belligerent. He was also as tall as Coop and fifty pounds heavier. His arms gesticulated in agitated loops, and the club’s laser lights turned his complexion from blue to red to Hulk green. She glanced around for one of the bouncers. As usual, none were in sight. Wishing she’d traded her stilettos for flats, she pushed her way through the dancers just as the goon clenched his fist and leaned in.

Coop put a hand to the guy’s chest. The goon didn’t like that. His arm shot back, ready to throw a punch. She hurled herself forward and caught his arm before it could land. Shifting her weight, she thrust an elbow to his solar plexus and dropped him to the floor.