by Kiersten Fay
“He asked for you earlier, but I’m damn sure going to tell him what just happened, and you’re off the schedule for the rest of the night.”
“That’s not fair. It was just a little hiccup. It won’t happen again.”
He paused, and scanned her body with lewd innuendo. “There’s a free room downstairs if you want to persuade me to change my mind.” The sublevel rooms were reserved for private shows—and whatever else clients arrange for.
Somehow not yacking at his proposition, she said, “Dante doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
In Dante’s office, a slighted Boomer proudly detailed Naia’s fuck up, stating for good measure that she should be suspended, if not outright fired.
Dante glanced up from his computer screen displaying several live security feeds around the property. He rolled a listless gaze at Boomer. “Add Debbie to the roster tonight and make sure James stays on for the second shift. That will be all. Sapphire, have a seat.”
Boomer frowned. “What should I do about her?”
Dark eyes turned threatening. Apparently, Boomer was dismissed. Getting the message, he left, closing the door behind him.
Naia settled into the hard metal chair across from Dante’s desk. He was a big man, or rather vampire, as almost all the local business owners were, with wide-set shoulders and an I-can-kill-you-with-my-thumb aura. His dark, short hair matched perfectly with his nearly black irises, tanned skin, and dark tailored suit. Past his thinned lips, she knew there was a pair of razor-sharp fangs just waiting to sink into flesh.
High-class attire aside, he did not resemble a gentleman. He looked like something from an ancient time, better suited to a battlefield rather than a desk. She’d heard rumors that he was unnecessarily rough during feedings. She pitied the humans he tapped. Sealed in a room alone with him, he was terrifying.
As unnerved as he made her feel, she refused to telegraph it, using her confident exterior as a shield. “Boomer made it sound worse than it was. I…”
Dante waved his hand in the air. “That’s not why I asked you here. Have you accomplished your task?”
Ah. He wanted a report. “I have an opportunity to meet with Cortez later this evening.”
That pleased him, but the smile he flashed was more like the cat who got the canary—and would gleefully rip the ever loving shit out of it.
He stood and strolled to a sideboard, filling two glasses with a golden liquid from a decanter. He offered one to her. A little afraid to decline, she accepted the glass and took a small sip. A warmth that hinged on burning heated her esophagus as the liquor worked its way to her belly.
“I hear your brother is in a bit of a jam.”
Discreetly, she cleared her throat. “What do you mean?” Her uneasy feeling tripled. Had Cole been blabbing about their debt?
“Rumor has it the Boyle twins are looking for him. Breaking of thumbs was mentioned.” He tsked. “Got yourselves in a bad way with that lot.”
Dread tumbled like marbles and splashed into her stomach. The Boyle twins never made idle threats. She and Cole were running out of time. Together, they had only accumulated thirty-five hundred dollars. It wouldn’t make a dent in their debt. Maybe if they handed it all over now, they could buy another week or two.
“Oh, chin up,” Dante cooed. “Complete the job and there’s five grand in it for you.”
She nodded. That was more than she’d make in six months waitressing at The Pit. “I will. But once I’m hired at Ever Nights”—if I’m hired—“I’m still not sure what you want me to do.”
He smirked. “All I need is some information. Day-to-day activities. Any unusual purchases or transactions. Keep your eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary.”
“What do you mean by out of the ordinary? Do you suspect they’re engaging in illegal activity?” If so, would she be putting herself in danger?
He shrugged. “Not sure. But if they are, I want to know about it.”
She’d do anything to keep Cole from harm. Surely she could snoop around without turning heads. Still she asked, “Why me?”
He leaned back, appearing as though he was choosing his words. “Of all my employees, you’re the best fit for this particular task.”
“How so?”
“Let’s just say you’re...unique.”
She managed to keep her eyes from darting guiltily. What did he mean by that? Could he know what she was? She decided to play dumb, feigning as though she was flattered by his words. “Unique? I don’t know about that.” Smile, smile.
He took a swig from his glass. She mirrored him.
“There’s a certain...mystery about you. I think it will intrigue Cortez. He might even be drawn to you. If he is, use it to your advantage. I want to know if he’s running things on the up and up, or rather, if he’s not.”
Realization hit. “You want a reason to report him to the VEA.” The Vampire Enforcement Agency, like cops for vamps. The only authority their kind recognized.
“Keen girl. That’s exactly it. It’s not personal. It’s business.”
Then was Dante planning to take over the city? She suspected the Boyle twins were already working that angle, accumulating IOUs throughout town.
“If you suspect something, why wouldn’t you just call the VEA and report him now? If he is doing something wrong, they’d find out, I’m sure.”
“The VEA is busy. Without solid evidence, Ever Nights would be a low priority. And if they did follow the lead and came up empty, I could incur some major fines for wasting their time. No, I’d need a little sweetling such as yourself to—” he cocked his head “—discover something.”
She blinked, trying not to narrow her eyes. “Is there something to discover?”
“No doubt in my mind, sugar. I have reason to believe he’s abusing the humans in his care, tossing them at any vampire with enough change in his pocket, forcing women into prostitution for his own gains. Hell, he could even be the one bringing drugs into this town.”
She’d heard about that. A new drug was floating around with an overdose rate that was off the charts. Goldie mentioned a good friend of hers had died from it a few months back.
She took another small sip of her drink. Swallowed hard. “This sounds dangerous.”
“Only if you get caught,” he said. “So don’t.”
She fretted her lip. Could she really add spy to her resume? “Make it ten thousand.” Had she really just said that?
His eyelids slitted dangerously. She worried she was about to lose this opportunity. Or worse....
Then he barked out a laugh. “I can appreciate your position. Five thousand is very generous, but…” he teetered, “I can add two grand to the total...once you get me what I need.”
Seven thousand dollars! With that she and Cole would be well on their way to paying off the debt.
“Deal,” she said, even as a swath of apprehension wrapped her spine. “But what if he doesn’t hire me?”
His gaze turned menacing. “Make sure that he does.”
Chapter 4
For the second time today, Naia entered Ever Nights. The atmosphere had changed. That bartender had said to come after-hours. For normal people, that would be weird, but vampires were night-crawlers. Most of the business they did was by the cusp of the moon.
She tugged at the hem of her ridiculously short red dress with a V in the front that displayed her cleavage. Goldie had practically insisted she wear it tonight. Naia had told her she was going on a date. She hated lying to her friend, but couldn’t see any other option when she had asked to borrow something, ahem, sexy.
Though it was late, the club was hopping, dance music blasting, burlesque in full swing with a trio of flexible ladies on stage doing an impressive acrobatic routine using black hanging fabric. Goodness, the muscle strength needed to move like that! No wonder this place was so popular. The entertainment was light years beyond The Pit.
Dante had to be losing money because of this place.
A smart busine
ss man would visit his competition, take notes, up his game. Dante wasn’t dumb, so either he couldn’t afford to provide better entertainment, or he didn’t want to. That meant he was looking for an easier option, hence her infiltration. He wanted to crush this place to dust.
If Dante’s accusations were correct, Cortez and anyone else complicit in his crimes deserved it. If she found something worth finding, she’d relay it without bias. But if Cortez was clean, she’d still have done her job, right? Dante couldn’t fault her if there was nothing illegal going down here.
By the same token, he couldn’t expect her to be Naia The Super Spy. You don’t send in an amateur if you’re looking for gold. Still, she’d do her best to get the job done. In the meantime, she could potentially be working alongside this town’s elite talent! Making connections.
Win, win.
She glanced around in search of the bartender from earlier, but a different man was behind the bar now. She was oddly disappointed. She hoped he told Cortez to expect her like he’d said he would. By their flippant exchange, she had to wonder if he’d just been screwing with her. There had definitely been a teasing light to his eyes.
Just then she spotted the bartender in a side room with an open archway. He glided around a pool table holding a cue stick.
A few other big guys were with him. Two were smiling and drinking while a third lined up his shot.
She crossed toward them, avoiding the enamored crowd as the three women on stage wound their toned bodies up those drapes and then spun precariously to the ground in a gracefully coordinated display. Stunning.
The sharp crack of a ball being struck greeted her as she stepped over the threshold. A striped ball met the corner pocket with authority.
“Nice shot,” she said.
All eyes turned to her, and she wondered if she wasn’t welcome. She glanced at the bartender, willing him to recognize her from this morning. A weird kind of tension stole through his body.
“Christ,” he muttered, taking his time scanning her body.
Well, at least she’d nailed the sexy part.
“Thanks,” said the man who had just sunk his shot. “Can I buy you a drink?” He had a surfer’s style, loose shorts, shaggy hair, and a boyish grin synonymous with lazy days on a beach. He reminded her a little of Cole. Except the look he was giving her was so not brotherly.
“Actually, I’m here on business.” She slanted her gaze back to her acquaintance. Damn, he looked even more handsome than before, if that were possible. He’d changed into a black sweater that lovingly hugged each and every muscle in his torso. The sleeves were bunched above his elbows, displaying strong forearms lightly dusted with hair. His short haircut was somewhat messier than before, as though he’d been running his hands through it all day, but it looked good on him, and combined with that five o’clock shadow, it gave him an edge. Their eyes locked and she nearly groaned. She’d been hoping she’d imagined that whiskey iridescent hue.
“You said I could meet with Cortez,” she reminded him lightly.
The other men seemed to go stiff. They glanced between her and the bartender. Was it unusual to try and get a meeting with the club’s owner?
“I did. Stick around and have a drink. You can have your meeting later. For now, I’ll be doing the pre-interview.”
“Pre-interview?” she asked, incredulous. “And you want me to drink?” She smelled bullshit.
“We are in a club, after all. If you can’t handle your alcohol, then it’s not the best place for you to be working, is it?”
The others went back to focusing on the game, but there was an underlying strain among them. She tried not to let it make her uneasy.
This time when the surfer shot, he scratched, and the cue ball found a home in a side pocket. The bartender was up next. He scanned for a clean shot.
“I wouldn’t be drinking while I work,” she pointed out.
The bartender replied, “You might. Patrons love to buy shots for our female employees. And the more drinks they buy, the more money we make.” He lined up his shot: seven ball, corner pocket. Of course he sunk it. She’d lose respect for him if he’d missed such an elementary shot.
Years ago, while her mother had bartended, she and her brother would have nothing better to do than hover around the pool table. At first it had just been a game. Something to do to pass the time while they waited for their mother’s shift to end. Then they’d discovered how to hustle, and what a team they’d made.
The bartender stood and gestured for a server. A petite blonde in pigtails and micro mini skirt bounced over. “You boys need another round?”
“Yes, luv, and whatever she wants.” He gestured to her.
The waitress sent her an assessing look that held a hint of surprise and curiosity.
Naia didn’t need to be getting tipsy on an interview, no matter what this bartender thought was appropriate. “Water would be fine.”
Groans all around.
Surfer Guy said, “Don’t be so stuffy.” While the other two just shook their heads in derision. The bartender, leaning over the table with the cue resting on his left hand, raised a contentious brow at her. Apparently she was bombing this pre-interview.
“Fine.” To appease them, she ordered a beer.
Peer pressure was a bitch.
“There’s a girl,” The bartender faced the table and swiftly landed his shot: Four ball, side pocket.
“And a water,” she called after the waitress.
The bartender scowled, but said nothing, making his last shot and winning the game. “Rack ‘em up,” he said to the others. He approached her then, and she was suddenly acutely aware of his size. She had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. His wide shoulders gave him a natural way of looming, even though he’d buffered several feet between them.
Even still, as if some sort of primitive instinct were warding her away, she nearly stepped back, but held her ground.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
Briefly she wondered if she should provide her stage name or her real name. She decided on the latter. “Naia. Yours?”
“If all goes well for you, you can call me Boss Man. But for now, Sir will do.”
“You want me to call you sir?” The arrogance!
The other men hid amused smiles behind their drinks. They were screwing with her, she decided. Perhaps there was no meeting later with Cortez. Either that or they were hazing her.
Maybe that was a good thing. Like coworkers hazing the newbie. You didn’t haze a potential coworker if you didn’t plan to hire them, right? Unless these guys were just dicks.
In any case, she had nothing better to do than play along while she waited to find out. Seven grand, she chanted in her head. But there was no way she was calling this guy sir in any kind of serious manner.
“Well, what can I call you if I beat your ass in pool? Would chump work for you?”
All four men swung surprised gazes at her. Surfer Boy eagerly handed over his stick. “I have to see this.”
The other two backed up against the wall as if she’d thrown down a gauntlet.
With an amused expression, the bartending prick fanned his hand out toward the pool table. “Racked and ready, luv. Be my guest.”
Oh, it was on. First break? Yes please.
Swiping the stick from Surfer, she sauntered to the table. The felt was practically new, and she had the urge to run her hand over the surface of it. Dante’s pool tables were worn to the base and slightly lopsided, which made every shot a surprise, no matter how good the player.
Aiming the cue ball, she steadied her shot. The weight of the stick in her right hand was familiar, calling up memories of bygone days with Cole. Hustling and drinking and laughing. Not a care in the world.
God, she missed those lazy days.
However, while she’d been in it for fun; Cole had been in it for the money, hustling bigger and bigger fish. It was a wonder he hadn’t gotten in trouble sooner. She’d called it quits
when their shenanigans caused Cole to get his ass seriously kicked one night. Not that he hadn’t had his share of ass-whoopings, but that night had been particularly bad.
Even Naia’s easy smile and sex-pot voice hadn’t been enough to cool the rage of a drunkard who’d just lost a pocket full of cash to them. What she and Cole hadn’t known was the man they’d hustled was a vampire. One who didn’t like to lose. Outside the bar, he’d beaten Cole soundly as she’d watched in horror, helpless to help. Worse, someone had called their mother out to the alley for the last two meaty pummels to Cole’s face before the vampire let him drop to the ground, unconscious.
To add insult, before walking away, the vampire tossed some bills onto Cole’s unmoving body. It had taken a week before Cole could see out of his swollen right eye. Another month before he was back to hustling, but after that, she had lost her taste for it entirely, and from then on had only played for her own enjoyment.
The whole experience should have taught her not to mess around with those of the pointy-tooth variety. Yet here she was.
Seven grand.
Though she knew she should go easy, her pride demanded she wipe the floor with these guys. Put an end to this jock-fest ribbing, maybe earn a little respect right out of the gate.
Tightening her grip on the base of the stick, she rammed it forward, striking the cue ball hard. It rocketed into the triangle gathered at the other end of the table. Balls exploded in every direction, ricocheting off one another and the bumpers. Three of them found homes: the one, the four, and the nine. Two stripes and a solid.
The bartender’s friends hooted with jubilance, claiming nearby stools as if settling in for a show.
She faced the head jerk with a cocky grin, wanting to see the surprise on his face as well. But that wasn’t what she found. In its place was something else she couldn’t decipher, something that had her body growing warmer under his intense gaze.
“I’ll take solids,” she chirped, then turned back to read the table.
The waitress arrived then, carrying a tray of drinks. She fluttered around the room, passing them out to everyone and finally setting Naia’s beer and water down on a side table before making herself scarce.
