Page 70 of Ruining Vanessa

“Yeah. You’d better demonstrate how you usually do this. Just so I know the club is on the up-and-up.”

All I can think about is Vanessa’s pathetic attempts at giving me and Giulio lap dances. It had been hot even if I’d laughed at her, because she’d genuinely been trying. This, though? As I watch, the blonde stands in front of Tiago and wiggles her ass. If we hadn’t been there as cops, his hands would’ve been all over her.

“Yeah. I think we should make sure the girls here know how to conduct themselves for a proper, legal dance,” I say almost primly. I should be enjoying this. I stare at her chest, watching her breasts bounce as she moves in what’s actually a pretty good lap dance for a hole in the wall like this one.

Nothing.

It’s almost a relief when the door opens a few minutes later, interrupting the dance. The chick probably would have kept going, but the man who enters says, “Thanks, Chantal. You can work the floor again.”

She nods and gets up—retying the blouse that she’d loosened during the dance. “Come by any time you want a repeat,” she says to Tiago, blowing a kiss at him before she’s out the door.

It takes me a second to realize two men entered the room, not just one. The older one has to be the boss around here, Mancini. But I have no idea who his companion is. He’s young, kind of baby-faced, and wearing a suit that’s just a little bit too big for him. He looks like a teenager trying on his father’s clothes in an attempt to appear adult.

“Who’s the kid?” I ask Mancini, not bothering to get up.

Tiago adjusts his pants—yep, he’s sporting a boner—but his expression has turned wary, too. He doesn’t like this new unknown component.

Mancini’s eyebrows go up. “Isn’t it customary to introduce yourselves first? All I’ve been told is that two members of New Bristol’s finest have turned up, demanding to speak with me. I don’t even know what this is about.”

“Fine, fine. Detective Ryan Graham,” I say, pulling out my badge to show him.

Tiago does the same, and after Mancini has thoroughly inspected both our badges, he nods. Not that I can fault Mancini for double-checking, because impersonating an officer isn’t that hard to do. They sell everything on the internet these days, including authentic-looking badges.

“Welcome, detectives.” Mancini doesn’t, actually, introduce himself further, which Tiago and I both notice. I guess he figures we know who he is, but…

“We really only need to speak with you,” I point out. “Lose the kid. Is he even old enough to be here?”

“I’m not a kid,” the kid snaps. “I’m Nilo Romano, and I’m the assistant manager here. So yes, I’m old enough to be here.”

Romano. Yeah, I know a few things about the Romano family, some of which Tiago knows, and more that he doesn’t. I’ve heard shit from both ends of the spectrum. The most entertaining things I know come from Giulio, of course, and I rack my brain to try to place this Nilo. Lauro Romano’s son, the one Giulio had threatened when he’d thrown a fucking grenade at a meeting with that family. I was pretty sure he was the one who’d caused a ruckus that had ended up with them getting some prime-time action at Ntimacy, but I’m sketchy with those details.

It would probably help if Giulio’s stories didn’t usually start with “what’s-his-face,” like anybody but him knows who he’s talking about.

“Chill, Romano,” I tell him. “I’m not asking to see your ID. I’m assuming Mr. Mancini here runs a nice, clean establishment.”

“Very clean,” Mancini assures me in a clipped tone. “Which makes me wonder why you’re here at all.”

I guess there’s no getting around it. I don’t really want to ask if they’ve heard anything about the missing cop, but with Tiago here, I don’t have much choice.

I’m still trying to figure out how to word it when Tiago pulls a photo out of his pocket and places it on the table. It’s Officer Baca, before he took a lethal dose of heroin.

“You two fine gentlemen ever see this man?” Tiago asks.

Mancini picks up the photo to get a closer look, then shakes his head. “No. I don’t keep track of every man who walks through these doors. Who is he?”

He hands the photo to Nilo, who frowns at it.

“Just a person of interest. In that, we’re interested where he’s gone. His family really misses him, and we just need to know if we can tell them to hold on to hope, or if we need to arrange a funeral. A funeral that a lot of cops will attend.” Tiago watches Mancini closely, but, imagine that, Mancini really has no fucking clue.

“I’d like to think I’m well connected, but in this, I really can’t help you,” Mancini says. “What makes you think he’d be here?”

“We just heard he likes coming to these kinds of places,” I say. I don’t want Tiago to notice I’m being awfully quiet.

I almost snort, imagining how hot Giulio would get seeing me act now. Here’s some damn roleplay.

“Suppose I did find out he’d been here,” Mancini hedges. “What’s in it for me if I tell you? I don’t think advertising that a missing… person… was last seen around here is particularly good business.”

“Forget here,” Nilo suddenly interrupts. “You should check out Giulio Pavone’s places. Ntimacy, Club Ruby’s. Bare Essence.”

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