by Dannika Dark
He licked the tip of his finger and touched my arm before making a sizzling sound. “You’re the cat’s meow tonight.”
The club was abuzz with rumors of the previous night’s brawl. Those who had witnessed it firsthand discovered that I wasn’t all talk and no action, and that titillated customers. When people began fighting to get in line, I sent them to the other bartenders to even out the work. How the hell had I wound up being so damn good at something I hated? If my father saw what I was doing now, he’d probably lock me in my old bedroom for the rest of my life.
Claude collected the tray and strutted off to the beat of the music. He had a fifty tucked in the back of his shorts and didn’t seem to know it, even though it flapped behind him like a tail.
Flynn eased up to the bar and watched Claude hawkishly. He pinched his beard as if contemplating something. “What do you and that lovely man spend so much time talking about?”
I wiped down the bar with a rag. “Give it up. He’s out of your league.”
“Says the competition.” Flynn slid onto the stool and adjusted his orange glasses. “Nobody’s out of my league, princess. I just have to figure out how to get on the team. How much do you think he makes a night in tips?”
I sighed. “Is money all you care about?”
“Yes,” Simone answered for him while taking care of a woman in red latex.
Flynn tucked his cheek against his fist and leaned to one side. “My Creator was a blacksmith who made the equivalent of a dollar a day. He wanted cheap help, so he made me. I slaved my fingers to the bone, and all I got was a bed and a free meal.”
“Why didn’t you leave?”
“I was so wrapped up in the whole immortality thing that I didn’t care. He said I couldn’t leave until he taught me all the magic stuff, and he never did. He kept putting it off so he could keep me around and make more money for himself.” Flynn turned his gaze away. “Manky bastard,” he muttered under his breath.
“Maybe you should play the lottery.”
“I would, but I haven’t got any luck. So, Robin White, tell me about yourself. Are you from around here?”
“Born and raised.”
He stroked his bottom lip. “Did your Creator teach you all those moves?”
“Nope. Learned them on the streets.” I tossed the rag into a bin. “When you meet the right people, you learn what you can.”
“Is this what you wanted to be when you grew up? A bartender?”
“Hell no.”
“How old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I stopped counting at twenty-five. Does it matter?”
His eyes skated down. “Your breasts are heaving.”
“So is that gentleman at table five. Better clean up.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Bollocks.”
After Flynn swaggered off, I signaled to Simone that I was taking my break. I wanted to call John Crawford and see what I could shake out of that tree. Men ogled me as I made my way through the room. Some bowed, others leered. The cloth around my head made me look like a superhero, but I sure as hell didn’t feel like one. After working my ass off all night, I was having regrets about choosing the leather corset. It felt like my body was in a vise and I might burst free at any moment.
As I reached the door, a handler came out and held it open for me.
“Thanks,” I said, taking note of her mask. Maybe she had a day job and working in a club like this would get her in trouble.
When I entered the break room, my reflection in the long mirror above the sinks looked like a stranger. The stools were tucked in beneath the counter, and someone had left behind a tube of lipstick. I passed the lockers on the left and headed toward the bathroom door. Instead of going in, I stopped in the alcove on the right and looked at three empty chairs and a telephone. Then I swung the bathroom door open and went inside. Unlike the customer restroom, we had six private stalls and urinals with dividers. I bent over to make sure I had the place to myself.
When I didn’t see any feet beneath the stalls, I ducked into the alcove and plopped into a chair facing the dressing room so I could peer around the privacy wall and keep an eye on the main door. The rotary phone was something I’d seen in old movies, so I had no trouble dialing. It wasn’t uncommon for Breed establishments to have rotary phones, jukeboxes, cigarette machines, and other obsolete relics from the past.
“This is Crawford,” the man answered.
“Hi. It’s Robin. You gave me this number.”
“Robin…”
“I tend bar at the White Owl. Black hair, brown eyes, got in a fight last night.”
“Ah, yes. Robin. Did you consider my offer?”
“Uh, yeah. But what’s the offer for?”
“I don’t do business over the phone. When is a good time we can meet?”
“I get off at three.”
He chuckled. “Yowzer. I sleep, you know.”
“How about noon tomorrow?”
“That works. Why don’t we meet at Ruby’s Diner. Do you know where that is?”
Panic set in. “In the human district?”
“I like my privacy.”
My heart slammed against my rib cage. No way in hell could I walk into Ruby’s and risk the staff calling me by my real name. “That place isn’t as private as you think. Have you heard of Northern Lights? They’re busy at night, but in the daytime, not that many people.”
“I know the place. But a man like me wouldn’t be seen in a bar like that.”
“Do you normally do business in a public place? Seems counterintuitive for a guy who likes his privacy. Anyhow, I don’t have a car, so getting over to the human district isn’t easy. Not unless I take the train.”
“Why don’t I just pick you up now so we can talk? I can be there in half an hour.” He sounded flustered. “We’ll drive around the block, talk it over, and you can go back to work. They do let you have breaks, don’t they?”
“Works for me. I’ll be out front.”
“See you then.”
Just as I hung up, someone walked in. Simone wouldn’t like me taking two breaks back to back, especially during the evening rush. She’d report me to the manager, and rightly so. I couldn’t let my coworkers think I was working undercover—the gossip alone could ruin our mission.
I sprang to my feet and hurried to the door. A woman with Donna Summer hair judged me with her eyes as she bent over the sink and applied pink lipstick.
When I reached Houdini’s office, I knocked. What were the chances he was actually there? Probably slim to none, and I had no other way to reach him. But I needed an alibi, and fast.
I stepped back in surprise when the door opened.
Houdini was about Christian’s height—just a hair over six feet. Nothing about his style gave away his age. The faded jeans might hint toward a younger man, but I knew he was at least a hundred years old.
At least.
“To what do I owe the honor?”
I pushed past him. “I need to ask a favor.”
The door closed, and he turned, looking more stylish than usual in a dark blazer over a grey shirt.
“Why don’t you let your employees dress casual?” I asked, looking down at his black dress shoes.
He leaned on the door and propped his foot against it. “This isn’t a five-star restaurant.”
“I realize that, but bartenders aren’t part of the show. You could at least let us wear cut-off T-shirts or something more comfortable.”
His hazel eyes settled on me. “You have plenty of options. Have you considered the fishnet tops? I hear they’re quite comfortable.”
I folded my arms to keep from strangling him. “Simone showed me the dress code. You aren’t allowed to wear those with a bra.”
A smile touched his broad mouth. “Of all the things you could complain about, it’s attire. Is that the favor you wish to ask? If I grant it, you’ll stand out.”
“No. I need to take an extended break. I’
m on a break now, and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. Probably less than an hour. Obviously I can work to make up the hours, but that’s not the issue.”
“Then what is?”
“You have rules, and the employees around here follow them to a tee. In fact, you’ve got a few snitches on the floor. People are going to start wondering why I’m getting special treatment, and the manager might fire me.”
“Don’t worry about Karen. She does whatever I ask.”
I flicked a glance at all the monitors on the wall behind me.
“Are you feeling better today?”
When I turned back around, Houdini gave me a start as he was only inches in front of me.
“What do you mean?”
He caressed my cheek with his hand. “I told you not to break my rules.”
It took me a minute to register what he had just admitted.
“Drinking on the job not only makes you unpredictable, but it puts my customers at risk.”
I leaned away from his touch. “Did you spike my drink last night?”
He stared at me as if I’d asked an inane question.
Anger swirled in me like a cyclone, and I shoved his chest. “You asshole! What gives you the right to mess with me like that? Do you realize the danger you put me in?”
He straightened his coat. “A belligerent woman. Is that what Keystone has reduced you to? One of the qualities I most liked about you when we first met was how dispassionate you were. There was little I could do or say that would make you emotional.”
“This is different. You sabotaged me. And when it comes to my body, all bets are off.”
He wandered over to the row of cabinets against the wall. “I cautioned you not to drink while on duty, and here you are, blaming me for something you had complete control over. Had you not violated my trust, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
I snorted. “What trust? You left me for dead on day one.”
He sighed and unlocked a cabinet. “I won’t revisit that conversation anymore. You already know what my intentions were, and your disappearance wasn’t something I anticipated.” When the cabinet door opened, he pulled out a bottle. “These are my personal collection.”
I stared at a row of bottles. The only thing that distinguished one from the next was the color of the screw cap. “Are those bottles spiked? You know that’s illegal.”
He unscrewed the cap to one and sniffed it. “I’m not a man who likes rules, but we need them to make this place run efficiently. This club is rife with customers who are looking for excitement. That said, I do enjoy a little chaos now and then.”
“Your chaos almost got me—”
“‘Got you’ is the wrong word choice. The magic in that bottle amplifies your primitive urges, allowing you to relinquish all inhibitions. It’s the stripped-down version of you—the most authentic you. Have you ever heard of love potions? They’re not a thing of lore. Sensors used to sell them for good money, but things like that have gone out of fashion.” He set down the bottle and approached me with an easy stride. “Poe broke the rules and entered my club.”
“To save me.”
Houdini tilted his head, his features unreadable. “What a hero. I didn’t take you for a woman who needed saving, but now I wonder what might have happened with my little experiment had he not interfered. Would you have given in to lust, or would you have fought against it and killed the man? I wonder…”
I stared with blank surprise. “You knew what happened in the red room?”
He jerked his chin at the screens behind me. “I see everything. Did Poe tell you it wasn’t your fault? That you were a victim?” Houdini shook his head. “Sensor drinks don’t remove free will. Deep down, you always have a choice. You know that, don’t you?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Then have a drink and see how much control you have.”
“They only reveal your deepest desires.” He stepped forward into my space. “You’re underestimating what I would want. Perhaps we should both have a drink.”
“Let’s not.”
The recessed lighting brought out the white in his hair. “What do you think might happen?”
“Don’t try to convince me that I wanted to screw some random guy.”
“Would it have been so terrible to give in to your desires with a total stranger?”
“They weren’t my desires. They were artificial.”
“Did it feel artificial when he spanked you and you moaned for more?”
The blood drained from my head. “You watched the whole thing? And chose to do nothing?”
“Like I said before, I see everything. And what would I have to gain from interfering?”
I slapped him hard. Then I did it again and my palm stung. Despite my sudden violent outburst, I managed to keep a cool and collected tone. “I’m not your experiment anymore. We have to play nice for the sake of this assignment, but if you ever meddle in my life again, so help me, I’ll put you in the ground.”
“Killing your maker is punishable by death. That will haunt you for the rest of your days.”
“I didn’t say I’d kill you. I only said I’d bury you.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Will you keep my key? Since we’re on the topic of meddling.”
“Why do you keep turning this back on me?”
Houdini strode to his desk and sat on it. “Because you’re desperate to blame me for all your woes. Had you followed my rule about drinking, you wouldn’t have put yourself in that predicament. I created an opportunity to expose your weakness. When others see your weaknesses, they use them against you. And if you keep turning to the bottle because you’re incapable of suppressing your emotions, you’ll make it easy for someone to take advantage of you. You’re not a woman who takes orders, so showing you was better than telling.”
“You’re really good, you know that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Christian warned me, but I didn’t want to see it. I still don’t want to see it. But there it is. You keep trying to make me believe that everything is my fault and you haven’t done anything wrong—that I’m just overreacting or imagining my fears. You think you know what I really wanted last night based on a video, but you weren’t inside my head. And because you didn’t pour the drink down my throat, you think that absolves you of any responsibility. I’ve done a lot of bad shit in my life, but I still have a sliver of a conscience. Do you?”
Unperturbed, Houdini reached for the phone and dragged it toward him. “I’ll inform the others that you’re on a special errand. Be back in two hours.” He lifted the receiver. “And don’t ever threaten me again. Not unless you mean it.”
Chapter 16
“I find the evening hours dreadfully boring.” From her wicker chair, Lenore drank white wine in the dark sunroom. “Remember when we had Vampire parties from dusk until dawn? Those truly were the days.”
Christian had just finished a security check throughout Lenore’s estate. Every window, every door, and every possible way in. He gave her a notepad. “I made a handy list of all your weaknesses.”
“I have none,” she said with a wink. “Come sit with me.”
Christian branched away and began testing the windows—anything to avoid mindless chatter. Lenore had changed into a white nightgown that left nothing to the imagination. Her dark nipples were staring at him through the semisheer fabric like two beady eyes.
“I’m inviting you to join me.”
He drifted past her, still checking the windows. “Are you afflicted in some way? This isn’t a social affair. I have a job to do. If you want a companion, you should call in your manservant.”
“Wilson?” She snorted. “He’s loyal, but that old geezer wouldn’t know how to hold a conversation any more than he knows how to hold in his farts.” She sighed. “Why is there no better word for it? Passing wind seems too refined for such a vulgar act.”
“Still pondering life’s great mysteries, I see.” Christian reached
the last window and then admired the lush plants that filled her sunroom. “There’s always toot.”
Lenore snickered and almost spilled her wine. “Do you remember that time we went to Chicago? I think it was 1928. We were trapped in an elevator with that dreadful man who smelled like an outhouse.” She wrinkled her nose as she recalled the memory. “I never did like elevators. Not then or now. Are you like that, Chrissy? I find that the more I’m surrounded by innovation, the more I want to escape it.”
He backed up against the house wall and looked through the windows that surrounded them. “If you’re fearing for your life, you might consider moving to a room with four walls.”
“Nonsense. I refuse to alter my lifestyle because of a moron.” Her chair faced right, giving him a profile view of her long legs. The slit up her gown revealed every inch of them from toe to thigh.
Lenore studied the tiny bubbles that danced inside her drink. “Lenore isn’t my real name, you know. Sometimes the only way to reinvent ourselves is to start over. I wish Vampires had taken on the custom of renaming their younglings. A Mage’s immortality begins with their first spark, when they’re given a new name. Vampire elders never adopted the same custom. They want to know where you came from.” She shifted in her chair to look at him. “Do you know why? I do.”
“I couldn’t care less.”
“But you should care. The ancients knew the power in knowledge. Most younglings have a family. Parents, siblings, cousins, sometimes a spouse and children. Contrary to what most people believe, a person’s true weakness is love. Vampires didn’t have the luxury of breaking the rules or fleeing their makers. The elders knew how to locate their family, and that gave makers more control over their progeny. No one wants to put their loved ones in danger. But you see, that same weakness also makes it easy for your enemies to have power over you.” She sipped her wine and set the flute on a round glass table. “I find it amusing that you—a trained guard—don’t know how to guard your own safety. Anyone you love will always be your weakness.”
Christian focused on a moth flitting overhead in hopes that Lenore would drop the subject. She was only verbalizing what he’d always known as truth. He’d seen love ruin men. It made them vulnerable and easy to control. His own misguided feelings for Lenore had been his ruin. Christian didn’t live in the land of denial, but his heart and his mind weren’t always on the same page.
