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Chapter 1

DALIA BLACKBURN

S he didn’t want to do it. But do it she must .

Dalia Blackburn forced herself to get out of her truck, bulky bag in hand.

She slammed the rickety door shut and paused, staring at the seedy place in front of her, the monstrous neon sign on the roof blinking red light like a sinister dragon spitting fire on a damsel in distress. Oh how she despised the place.

Especially now since a deputy sheriff from her small hometown, Farmdale, had taken a side job as bouncer there a month earlier. Who would ever have guessed that someone from an hour away would show up in this dump in Detroit?

Her aim had been to do this job without anyone back home knowing about it.

She’d lied through her teeth to her mama for the first time in her life, knowing there would be hell to pay if the truth came out.

Her mama believed she waitressed in the city at a “big, fancy restaurant” where she made great tips.

Dalia had to make certain her secret stayed safe.

To that end she had on her fire-engine red wig, her sparkly makeup that included sequined eyelashes, a short red skirt and orange tank top, and stupid red stilettos so tall they felt like walking on stilts.

But still, there was the pesky problem of that deputy, one Brody McIntyre.

She felt certain he hadn’t recognized her – at least not yet – and she must do everything in her power to keep it that way.

It wasn’t like they knew each other back home.

He’d only been in Farmdale for a couple of months, and she’d only seen him a handful of times, mostly at the Farmers’ Market on Saturdays.

He’d strut through the cozy outdoor market in full knight-in-shining-armor-deputy-sheriff gear like some kind of god that women should drool over.

He’d probably be happy if they fainted at his feet.

The one time they’d briefly met, he’d stared at her so intently she’d turned away.

Men like that made her scoff. Too full of themselves, that’s what they were. But so far at this place he’d done nothing but his job, praise be.

She sighed and shoved the annoying shoulder-length, red wig hair behind her ears to get it away from her face.

Time to go inside. The parking lot was packed, as usual, which portended a prosperous night.

In only two more months she’d be able to dump the dump never to return because then she’d have all the dough she needed.

She tromped up to the employee’s back door, her stilettos clicking on the pavement to make each step a taunting reminder that she hated this.

The boisterous music drowned out the outer world as she flung open the heavy metal door to Babette’s Gentlemen’s Club and went inside.

The door clanged shut behind her, shutting out reality.

It was time for Dalia Blackburn to become Scarlett Blaze, relinquishing her soul to the sordid world of striptease.