Free Say You Love Me by Rita Herron

public? Or did the family scene make her uncomfortable?
    Why did he care what she thought? When the hurricane had stolen his parents’ home and business, they’d banded together to rebuild their lives.
    The tragedies had taught him about what was most important. Material things could be replaced, but loved ones couldn’t. But he didn’t want his family getting the wrong idea about their relationship.
    Besides, a madman might be after Britta. He’d protect her with his life but he refused to lead the killer back to his own family’s door.
    His cell phone jangled and he pressed the phone to his ear to hear over the din of laughter and voices. “Detective Dubois.”
    â€œDubois, it’s Carson. Listen, there’s a bartender down here at the House of Love who recognizes our victim.”
    A break they needed. “I’ll be right there.” He stood and gestured toward Britta. “We need to go.”
    â€œAlways working,” his mother hissed.
    Stephanie punched his arm. “Stay safe, brother.”
    Catherine hugged him. “Yeah, watch your back. You’re not invincible either, you know.”
    He nodded, then slid his hand to Britta’s waist as they left the restaurant. It was out of the way to walk her home, but the House of Love was a divey bar with nasty floors, cheap strippers and raunchy patrons.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” she asked as they stepped into the cloying humidity.
    â€œMy partner found someone who recognizes our victim. I’ll take you home, then I’ll go talk to him.”
    She lifted her hair off her neck to cool herself, drawing his gaze to a tiny scar beneath her right earlobe. “That’s right around the corner.”
    â€œI know, but it’s not the kind of place I usually take a woman.”
    Emotions flickered in her eyes…relief, surprise. Then she shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ve seen worse,” she said. “Besides I’m not the sweet, domestic type like your little sisters. This is about the case. It’s not personal.”
    He shook his head, but his body hardened at the way her eyes darkened in the moonlight. “No, not personal at all.”
    And he would keep reminding himself of that, even if she decided to turn her seductive powers on him.
    After all, she wasn’t shy or the wholesome girl next door like his sisters. She didn’t seem to like the family scene, either. And she had refused his mother’s invitation to dinner as if a homey gathering would bore her.
    Worse, she printed erotic confessions in a magazine. Watching a performer take money for stripping probably wouldn’t even faze her.
    * * *
    T HE NIGHT FELT as if it would never end.
    Britta entered the wall-to-wall packed House of Love, fighting the memories that rose from the depths of the forgotten to haunt her. Thick smoke, sweat, beer and the stench of tawdry sex filled the air; the hint of drunken lust added a layer of tension over the sea of anonymous faces.
    Nausea filled her. She’d grown up in places just like this. Had watched her mother entertain night after night. Then seen her duck into the curtained-off areas to perform private lap dances….
    â€œIt’s not a bad way to make a living,” her mother had told her one night when she’d caught Britta staring through the curtain. “It’s just sex, nothing more.”
    No emotions. Just the simple exchange of bodily fluids and money.
    Disgust gnawed at Britta’s throat as she banished the images. She’d hated seeing her mother degrade herself. Hated even more the strange men’s grunts and groans at night, watching her mother delve into booze and drugs, knowing filthy hands touched her….
    â€œCome on,” Jean-Paul mumbled, “I see the bartender over there.”
    The strobe light blinked to the beat of the contemporary rock music, the center stage occupied with two busty half-naked women gyrating and