Tariq blinked slowly, and suspicion crept into his eyes. “What’s that mean? You sleeping with him?”
I narrowed my gaze and struggled to pull in a deep, calming breath. Keep your cool, Ruby. “Yes, we’re dating.”
He stared at me with a dubious expression, and then the suspicion grew exponentially until his whole face was sour. “No, you ain’t.”
I wasn’t going to waste time arguing. “It’s in your best interest to wait for Mr. Reed.”
“I don’t have time for that. I need a . . . I dunno, a gag order or something.”
I gave him a skeptical look. “A gag order?”
“I need protection. The press can’t find out about me going to the club, or I’m fucked.”
What the hell was he talking about? “I’m sorry, what?”
The strange, sickening gleam in Tariq’s eyes made unease flood my stomach. It announced whatever this ‘club’ was, it couldn’t be good. He leaned forward. “I’m about to use some adult language, girl. You seem like you can handle it. The blindfold club is where I go to get good pussy.”
My face grew hot with a flush. I wasn’t an idiot. The lives of professional male athletes in Chicago ran the gamut. Some were wholesome family men who went to church every Sunday, and some partied harder at night than they did in the arena. A sports town as big as Chicago always had the rumblings of scandals with players.
I kept my voice even. “A strip club.”
“Nah, it’s not like that. It’s a classy, expensive whorehouse.”
Sweet Christ, I didn’t need to know this. If Kyle had that kind of info, he’d eviscerate Tariq, because I would if Mrs. Crawford were my client. “Mr. Crawford, let me remind you—”
“If the league finds out, forget it. I’m fucking done. I gotta know he’s not going to talk about it.”
“Who?”
His eyes were deep pools I couldn’t look away from, and his tone was pointed. “Your boyfriend.”
I swallowed hard and my voice went grave. “Mr. McCreary knows you’ve visited this club?” If so, Tariq was right. He was fucked.
“Yeah,” he said, and the sick gleam was back. “He was there today.”
My brain buzzed as the information sunk in, but I battled to stay logical. I repeated it, but my words were full of skepticism. “He was there.”
“Yeah. I thought it was a setup, but . . . he wasn’t there for me.” His expression was lewd, and dripped with meaning.
I laughed at this total nonsense. There was no way Kyle would go to a whorehouse, as Tariq so nicely put it. No way he’d cheat on me.
“You think that’s funny?” Anger darkened his face. “The girls at the club are up for anything. All kinds of kinky shit a vanilla girl like you won’t do. They’re naked, strapped down to the table, blindfolds on. I come in and do whatever the fuck I want, as long as I got the cash.”
I made a face, not needing the image of Tariq fucking some girl bound to a table, and definitely not needing to know this information. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe you.”
“Oh, yeah? Call him. Ask him where he was at one o’clock.”
Why was I even humoring him? I set my cell phone on the table with a quiet thud and stared at the scene. “Let’s just pretend for a moment I do that. You think he’d tell me?”
Tariq paused, considering. “He’s wearing a light gray suit, white shirt, blue striped tie. Call him.”
The conviction in his words was unnerving, and my breath caught. The level of detail was hard to ignore. Was it possible he was telling the truth? I crossed my arms and leaned forward, hardening my expression. “Okay, so say you’re right. What the hell was he doing there?”
He stared back at me like I was an idiot. “He was going into one of the rooms, and believe me. Only one thing happens in them.”
It made no sense, and although I refused to believe it, my pulse was racing. Before I knew what I was doing, I had my phone in my nervous hands.
This was stupid. I watched the three dots dance across the screen, my heart in my throat. When the message came through, I stared at it in disbelief. I clutched the phone so hard, it was a miracle it didn’t break.