Deadly Desire

Cole grabbed my elbow as I rose, and thankfully held me steady as the room spun around again. "God, that's unpleasant," I muttered.

"Maybe you shouldn't drive-"

"I'll be fine," I interrupted, pulling away from him. "I just need more coffee and some food."

"Figured you might need something to eat, so I bought some hamburgers. They're over near the door."

I smiled and rose up on my toes, kissing his cheek lightly. "If you're not careful, wolf, I might begin to think you actually like me."

"Then you'd be thinking wrong," he said, blue eyes twinkling. "Get, woman, so I can go back to work."

I left, grabbing the bag of burgers on the way out. Of course, traffic was hell and it took me forever to get back home. By the time I'd showered, changed, and caught a cab to the club, I was a good hour late.

They weren't happy, but I mollified the night manager somewhat by promising to make up the time working a couple of extra hours on the following, and busier, Friday night.

I changed into my almost nonexistent dance gear and shiny stiletto heels, and headed into the main room. I checked the board to see my stage times, and saw that I'd been allocated shifts in both the main room and the sports bar. Which would enable me to have a closer look at both the locked doors while keeping an eye out for our two murderers. Who, according to the minds I'd briefly scanned, hadn't been seen at all during the day.

Fate was obviously giving me a break for a change.

The crowd in the main room was smaller tonight, but no less noisy, and the bartenders seemed to be running to keep up with the drinks orders. I couldn't immediately spot Kye, nor did I get that surge of awareness that suggested he was near-although that didn't mean he wasn't here. He could have been in one of the other rooms. I talked to various patrons as I made my way around the room, dancing for some and having drinks bought for me from others-a practice management encouraged because that's where the real money was-all the while working my way toward the locked and guarded door.

There was an old guy sitting at the table nearest the door, and for a moment I thought it might have been Kye. He was the right height and had the same broad shoulders, but this guy's hair was a matted brown, and he reeked of booze, stale sweat, and humanity. I doubted even a werewolf as stoic as Kye would stand that odor for very long. Besides, the sharp awareness that always warned of his presence, even if it didn't pinpoint a location, was absent.

At any other time, I might have avoided the old guy like a plague, but he happened to be sitting in the perfect position to study the door more closely without raising suspicions.

I walked around the table so that I was upwind of him, then pulled out a chair and sat down beside him.

"Don't want a dance," he said, voice sharp and crackly. "I ain't gonna pay you anything, girlie, so you can just be off and harass someone else."

I was about to ask the old grump what the hell he was doing here if he didn't want any personal attention, but the guard was in earshot and I doubted they'd be happy with a dancer bad-mouthing the customer. Even a grumpy, stinky, old one.

So instead I took off a shoe and rubbed the ball of my foot. "I'm actually just giving my feet a rest. But if you mind, I'll move on."

He harrumphed. "I ain't buying you a drink, either. Not at them bar prices."

I continued to rub my foot, surreptitiously studying the door lock as I did so. It wasn't only fingerprint coded, it had an iris scanner as well. Which in itself wasn't a problem, except that all the guards wore nanowires. I might be able to get past them and force him to open the door, but it would mean a concerted effort on my part, and that would certainly be dangerous considering that the cameras were constantly checking out the room. A dancer standing still apparently concentrating on nothing was sure to attract attention. Which meant I'd have to find a way to short the cameras out first-all without raising an alarm in the security room.

No easy task, whichever way I looked at it.

I sighed and glanced at the old man. His brown eyes were still regarding me suspiciously, and they had an oddly flat look about them. Contacts, I thought, for no particular reason. And wondered again if it was Kye.

After all, it'd be just like him to go for a disguise that he knew would turn me off. And he had told me a number of times he didn't want a lap dance.

"So, do you come here often?" I leaned back on the table to ensure his view of my breasts was unobstructed by the short, gauzy jacket I was wearing.

"First time," he said, his gaze sweeping my body then moving away swiftly. Pink tinged his cheeks.

If it was Kye, he was a damn good actor.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Don't mind the stage shows." His gaze raked me again, and he licked his lips. I couldn't smell his excitement. Couldn't smell anything except that overriding, unwashed, boozy scent. "Don't like all the table attention, though."

"It's part of our job to talk to all the customers." My gaze moved past the grumpy old fart as one of the money men moved in our direction. The various club tills were regularly cleared out of big notes-a result, I'm told, of the club being hit by robbers within the first few weeks of its opening. If he was heading this way, then maybe the vaults were behind door number one rather than any sort of secret magic chambers.

"Just as it's a part of your job to wrangle money out of them," the old guy said. "But you ain't wrangling anything out of me, young lady, so you might as well not waste your time."

I shoved on my shoe and switched feet. "As soon as my feet stop aching, I'll leave you in peace."

"Well if you wore sensible shoes, sore feet wouldn't be a problem."

"Sensible shoes aren't pretty," I said, my attention more on the guard than on what the old guy was saying. The money handler had reached the door, and the camera above me whined as it began to rotate. I glanced up, watching it do a complete circuit of the club. Only when it had finished did the guard press his hand, then his eye, against the scanners.

There was a pause, then several clicks, before the door opened ponderously. I leaned sideways a little to catch a glimpse of the hallway beyond, and saw the old guy do the same.

Saw his intent expression.

And knew, without a doubt, that it was Kye.

I'd seen that intentness too often now to mistake it.

Why I wasn't getting that surge of awareness I had no idea, but right now, that wasn't important. Seeing what was beyond that door was.

I leaned further, placing a hand on his leg to support myself. Felt the muscle and the strength underneath the stained and ratty pants, as well as a surge of electricity and awareness that just about short-circuited every sense I had. I hadn't been wrong. This was definitely Kye.

"You owe me a hundred," I said softly, making it look like I was whispering sweet nothings when all the time I was eyeing the hallway.

It wasn't much. Just a short, concreted area that led to another large door, this one metal. A vault, not a sorcerer's secret place of mischief.

The guard shifted and I flicked my gaze to Kye, who was looking at me like I was nuts.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, still sounding like a man who drank and smoked too much. A voice modulator, obviously.

I slipped my shoe back on and rose. "Of course you do," I said, stepping past him then stopping to add softly, "and that door is not our target. Meet me in the sports bar at eleven."

He didn't check his watch. Didn't do anything but scowl at me. I smiled and headed for the stage to do my floor show.

By the time I'd finished, Kye had gone, but that didn't surprise me. With the first door out of contention, he'd probably already moved into position to check out door number two.

I could only hope he stank less when I found him again, or I wasn't going to be able to talk to him long, let alone do the promised lap dance.

Although now that he knew I was onto him, he might very well change his look. He might be on the prowl for his targets, but I didn't think he was above providing a challenge in the process.

For the next few hours, I continued my shift in the main room, chatting up customers, giving them lap dances, earning money, and fending off the occasional grab. When I'd finished my second stage show, I headed to the staff lounge for my break and to eavesdrop on the local gossip. To date, the topic of conversation had consisted mainly of bitching about the customers and very occasionally about other dancers. I was sipping my coffee and only half listening when one of the busty blondes said, "God, wasn't the boss in a bitch of a mood last night? I'm glad she hasn't turned up tonight."

The other blonde-who I only knew by her stage name, Sammy-snorted softly. "I could hear her screaming all the way down in the dressing rooms. Do you know what happened?"

The blonde sniffed. "Rumor is that she had a special lined up and the girl didn't appear. She took her frustrations out on a customer in another room and beat him up pretty bad."

"One lawsuit coming up." Sammy shook her head, though her expression was one of amusement more than disgust. "I thought she'd given up dancing."

"Apparently she likes to keep her hand in." The blonde hesitated, then leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered, "She likes the younger ones, so she's always on hand to help out when we have some young bucks in."

"She can have the young ones. They're all hands and no damn cash. Was an ambulance called?"

"No. And the cops didn't show, either, so it couldn't have been more than a few slaps."

"So why did they shut the room down? It's been out of action all day, apparently."

I continued to look at the paper, but I wasn't really reading anything. Instead, I reached out telepathically, linking lightly with the blonde's mind. I delved stealthily but deeply into her memory centers, fishing though quickly until I caught the images she was talking about. I wrapped around them, drawing them into me, remembering them as she remembered-not only seeing and hearing, but smelling.

What I smelled was blood. Lots of blood.

Hanna Mein hadn't injured. She'd killed.

So, did that mean the couple she'd slaughtered had been nothing more than a last-minute substitution for the special that had been canceled? Or had they been just another release for the anger, as the man she'd danced for-then killed-had been?

I continued to sort through the blonde's memories, but she hadn't actually seen anything. She'd been stopped at the doorway, and had gotten the information from the guard stationed there.

I withdrew and flipped over the page as I took a sip of coffee.

The blonde shrugged. "It was due for refurbishment. Now there's a new chaise lounge and a fresh coat of paint on the walls." She glanced at her watch and rose. "I get to christen the new surrounds in five minutes."

"Give him hell and make him pay," Sammy said with a grin.

"Always do, love, always do." The blonde dropped a kiss on the other woman's cheek then walked out.

I finished my coffee, rinsing the bitter dregs in the sink before heading down to the change rooms to get into my other outfit for the evening-a soft striped silk that looked like something a jockey would wear, except that it didn't fully cover my breasts. Every time I raised my arms even slightly, out the girls popped. And even though there were plenty of women walking around without covering tops of any kind, the outfit had proven to be extremely popular with the guys despite its impracticality.

The sports bar was half full, which wasn't bad considering it was a Monday night. There were a heap of men sitting at the tables near the big screen, watching some boxing match, but there were many others playing pool or simply chatting with various dancers at the other tables. The name of the game in this room wasn't pool or chatting, but getting the customers to spend money on drinks, or interested enough to spend big in the fantasy rooms.

I scanned the room as I walked around the edge, looking for Kye in his grumpy old man outfit. Not a sign of him. Which meant either he wasn't here, or he'd changed, and I was betting on the latter.

I was three quarters of the way around the room when awareness of Kye washed over me-a short, sharp caress that was gone almost as fast as it had arrived. I turned and saw a spiky-haired blond man walk into the room and then stand, arms crossed, in the shadows near the door, his gaze on the big screen.

He looked totally different than before. Gone was the ratty coat, the slouched stance, and almost grimy appearance. In its place stood a broad-shouldered, muscular man wearing faded, hip-hugging denims and a crumbled, pale pink shirt that suited his golden skin and bleached hair. He looked more like a builder than a hit man, and even though I couldn't deny the surge of attraction, that was the one thing I couldn't ever forget-that he was a hit man. That he was extremely dangerous.

I stepped out of the shadows. The minute I did, he shot a glance my way. This time his eyes were green, and they gleamed like the brightest emeralds in the half-light of the bar.

There was nothing warm about his gaze, nothing friendly about the way it latched onto me, and yet the shiver that ran over me was all heat, all desire. Maybe it was simply the danger he represented that pulled at me so fiercely. The feeling that every minute I spent with him could be my last. That no matter how strong I was, no matter how fast, this man could counter it. That he would counter it, if I ever got in the way of his aims.

Danger was an aphrodisiac to a wolf, and my wolf was reacting to it as fiercely as she ever had.

"You're looking like a man who needs to play some pool," I said softly as I stopped beside Kye and touched his arm. The contact was as electric as ever, and only served to confirm his identity. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">