Beside him, Thorpe choked, looking ready to throttle the woman. He sliced her his most displeased Dom face. In seconds, the woman lowered her cigarette and stared at him warily.
Sean stepped between them, shooting Thorpe a glare that told him to be f**king reasonable. “No. We don’t need a room to share. Or any room at all.” He reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out his badge. “FBI. I’m looking for someone.”
The bleach blonde with the gray roots looked ready to piss her pants. “I swear I told Johnny to be careful who the hell he hired. Who is it, the new repairman? I suspected he might be a con man, but I didn’t know.”
“Focus, woman,” Thorpe snapped. “We’re asking the questions. You will answer us precisely and honestly. You will not speak unless spoken to. If you’re dishonest, we’ll have problems, you and I. Is that clear?”
The woman gave a rattled bob of her head. “Um . . . yeah.”
Thorpe turned to him with a grim smile. “Proceed.”
The situation wasn’t funny, but Sean repressed the urge to grin. Thorpe had gotten the woman’s attention, that was for sure. After a handful of words, she couldn’t wait to give him a healthy dose of respect. He supposed Thorpe’s commanding presence was one reason so many subs sought him as a Dominant. And it was probably one of the reasons Callie had latched on to him. Deep down, she needed to believe that someone watched over her, looked out for her, and would rein her in if she’d gone too far. She ached to know that someone could save her if push came to shove. But Callie was so damn headstrong that whomever she turned to would have to truly exert his control before she’d heed it. Thorpe would have no problem doing that. He’d relish it.
The thought niggled at his brain as he withdrew a recent picture he’d printed of Callie, one he’d clandestinely snapped on his phone at Dominion. She wore a little Mona Lisa smile, her full, rosy lips somehow taunting and affectionate at once, tempting him. Her eyes glittered with life and vitality. Her glossy black hair shone against her pale cheek. Inch after inch of the most unspoiled skin he’d ever touched drew his stare all the way down to the hint of her cle**age. His memory supplied the rest—sweet pink-berry ni**les, flat belly, slender hips, sleek thighs, snug pu**y. Sexual power in a petite dynamo of a female.
Thorpe nudged him. “Get on with it.”
Pulled out of his musings, Sean nodded, then sat the image down on the counter in front of the desk clerk. He held his breath.
Her eyes flared with recognition, and she looked at him, suddenly in a hurry to be forthcoming. The apprehensive glance she slid Thorpe’s way explained why. “Yeah, I know her.”
“And? Go on. When did she check in?” Sean demanded.
“Two days ago. Middle of the night.”
Bingo! “Go on.”
“She was dragging a red duffel. I think she’s a blonde now.”
He and Thorpe exchanged a glance. She’d disguised herself, as they’d suspected. But his excitement was reflected in the other man’s gray eyes. They were finally getting a lead on Callie. Sean’s heart pumped. His skin tingled. Hell, even his c**k engorged. Instinct told him they were close.
Thorpe braced his hands on the counter with deceptive calm. He stood tall and imposing. His mood stretched tighter than wire suspending a bridge. The woman’s jaw went slack as she stared up at him, blinking so rapidly, Sean was surprised her false eyelashes didn’t take flight.
“You’ll tell us everything you remember,” Thorpe commanded. “Now.”
The woman bobbed her head again. “Sh-she asked for a corner room near the stairs. I happened to have it. She asked about a place to eat and somewhere to find work. I sent her across the street to the diner.”
The one that had seen better days decades ago and had a collection of homeless drunks littering the parking lot.
“She’s waitressing there?” Thorpe barked.
“N-no. My cousin Marty runs a club about two blocks down and he’s always looking for pretty girls, so I sent her there.”
“Did she go?” The Dom’s voice dripped ice.
“Yeah. She’s working until two a.m. Marty . . . um, called me to thank me about an hour ago. After less than three shifts, she’s already a customer favorite. He called her a gold mine.”
Thorpe gritted his teeth, and Sean could only imagine what was running through the man’s head. Probably the same what-the-fuck thoughts dashing through his own.
“The name of the club?” Thorpe wasn’t sounding any warmer.
The brassy blonde swallowed and stared up, almost pleading silently for Thorpe’s leniency. “G-glitter Girls. Go out the door, take a right and head—”
“What the f**k kind of place is that?” Thorpe cut in with a growl.
“I know exactly where it is.” Sean discreetly elbowed the Dom as he smiled at the clerk. “What’s her room number?”
She focused on him and softened. Sean shoved down his fury to send her a gently encouraging expression. If good cop-bad cop worked, he was all for it.