Elemental Assassin 02 - Web of Lies (28 page)

Finn and I stepped inside, and Xavier shut and locked the door behind us.

“You know I’ve seen you manning the door here,” I said. “But I didn’t realize you worked for the police department too until you dropped by the Pork Pit to clear up that little mess the other night. Shouldn’t you be out arresting lawbreakers?”

Xavier’s grin widened. “Ah, the cop thing’s just a parttime gig. Besides, why go out there when they’ll all just be coming here later on tonight?”

“Good point.”

Xavier grabbed a couple of wooden boxes that had been stacked by the front door, and the
tink-tink
of glass inside caught my ear. Looked like a delivery of liquor of some sort. The giant hefted his burden and headed deeper into the club. Finn and I followed him.

The outside of Northern Aggression might have been a faceless shell, but the inside had a distinct personality, even during the middle of the day. The few overhead lights that were on highlighted the heavy, crushed red velvet drapes that covered the walls. The floor was a wonderful springy bamboo that cushioned our feet, but our steps still echoed in the hollow, empty building.

We crossed the dance floor, and Xavier veered off to the right toward a long bar made entirely of Ice elemental.

The structure was almost a hundred feet long and more like an elaborate sculpture than a piece of furniture. Runes had been carved into the slick surface, mostly suns and stars, the symbols for life and joy.

Both of which could be found in abundance here late at night, as long as you had enough money to pay for the privileges. The bar, of course, had been created by the Ice elemental who worked as the club’s bartender, and he’d used enough of his magic to make sure his creation wouldn’t melt before his shift started tonight. I could feel the cool caress of power halfway across the club. My own Ice magic, weak and sluggish though it was, stirred in response.

Xavier put his liquor boxes on the bar and gestured for Finn and me to go on without him. “I’ve got to get these unloaded. Roslyn’s waiting for you guys in her office. You know the way, Finn.”

Finn straightened his tie. “Indeed I do.”

He headed for the back of the nightclub and pulled open a door discreetly set into the crushed velvet that covered the wall. It opened up into a small hallway that ran in either direction before branching off at both ends. Finn turned left, and we zigzagged through a series of hallways before he stopped at a closed door. Finn knocked on it.

“Come in,” a muffled voice said.

Finn opened the door, and we stepped inside an office.

Roslyn Phillips sat behind a wide, massive desk that would have made even Xavier look svelte in comparison.

A variety of pink and white papers lay scattered on the surface in front of her, along with what looked like an old-fashioned ledger book. A computer drowsed at her elbow, while a red light blinked on her phone. It was heart-shaped, with what looked like an arrow forming the headset. The phone matched the runelike shape of the clock on the back wall.

Finn held his hands out wide. A charming smile stretched across his face. “Roslyn, darling, so good of you to see me on such short notice.”

An answering smile curved Roslyn’s lips, showing her perfect, pearl-white fangs. “You too, Finn.”

The vampire got up from behind her desk. To say that Roslyn Phillips was an attractive woman would be like saying Sherman only set a few fires in Atlanta—a complete understatement. Her eyes and perfect skin were a rich toffee, and her cropped, layered black hair highlighted the edge of her strong, square jaw. Silver glasses perched on the end of her button nose and made her eyes seem even larger and more expressive. The vampire had the kind of face that made you do a double-take to wonder if such symmetrical perfection was possible. On her, yes.

Since the nightclub wasn’t open for business yet, Roslyn was dressed down in a pair of skinny jeans and a button-up white shirt. But the simple outfit still showed off her body to its full potential. Plump breasts, lush hips, flat stomach, toned thighs, just the right amount of curve to her ass. Roslyn was like a female version of the David—only much more fuckable. The vamp was one of those who used sex to power up, along with blood, and she’d spent years, decades even, learning how to work what she’d been given to her full advantage.

Roslyn came around the desk, and Finn pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek, once again playing the part of the Southern gentleman. The vampire drew back, and her dark eyes landed on me.

“And you brought Gin along with you,” she said in a neutral tone.

“Hello, Roslyn,” I replied. “Lovely to see you too.”

Roslyn’s smile turned into more of a grimace. She hadn’t forgotten our last meeting at Fletcher Lane’s funeral.

The one where I’d told the vampire I knew that she’d talked about Fletcher, Finn, and me, about what we did. That her well-intentioned whispers had led Alexis James to Fletcher and the Pork Pit and had gotten the old man killed.

“What do you need?” she asked in a quiet tone, still staring at me.

Need,
not
want
. Roslyn Phillips seemed to be taking our conversation to heart. I’d agreed not to kill the vamp or tell Finn what she’d done—and told her point-blank she would have to give me and Finn anything we needed for as long as I saw fit. Since I wasn’t a forgiving person, that was going to be a good long while. Starting right now.

“Ah, Roslyn, you wound me,” Finn said. “What makes you think we need anything? Perhaps I just wanted to stop by and bask in your beauty.”

The vampire snorted. “Cut the bullshit, Finn. If you’d come by yourself, I might have pretended to buy that tired old line. But you brought Gin with you. I doubt she’s interested in my beauty.”

“Sorry, Roslyn,” I said. “I don’t swing that way.”

The vampire shrugged and turned her dark eyes to Finn. “So I ask the question again—what do you need?”

Finn opened his mouth, probably to sweet-talk Roslyn some more, but I cut in. We didn’t have a lot of time to waste. We needed to get what we came for from Roslyn and get on with things.

“I need to get into Mab Monroe’s party tonight,” I said.

Roslyn’s eyes widened for half a second before she masked her surprise. “You want to get into Mab’s party?

Why?”

I stared at the vampire, debating what I should tell her. The less Roslyn knew, the better. But after our last conversation, I had no doubts the vampire would keep her mouth shut this time. She knew what I’d do to her if she didn’t.

“I need to get close to someone.”

Roslyn frowned with understanding. “Who?”

“Tobias Dawson.”

The vampire blanched with disgust, but she didn’t ask why I was interested in the dwarf. Hooking in Southtown for a few decades was a great way to dampen your curiosity. On the mean Southtown streets, you did things without asking the reasons or thinking too much about them afterward. Besides, Roslyn knew the
why
didn’t really matter, since the only reason I ever got close to anyone like Dawson was to kill him.

Roslyn crossed her arms over her chest. Her foot turned sideways and tapped on the thick carpet. After a few moments of quiet introspection, comprehension flickered in her dark eyes. “You want to go in as one of my girls. That’s why you’re here.”

I nodded.

Roslyn stared at me, and I let the coldness leech into my gray eyes. I respected the vampire for what she’d accomplished, for being smart and savvy enough to work her way up from a street hooker to a wealthy businesswoman.

And I especially admired Roslyn’s fierce devotion to her sister and young niece, her determination to provide a better life for them. But that didn’t mean I was going to let the vampire renege on our deal. Fletcher Lane was dead, partly because of her. She owed me until I said otherwise.

“All right,” Roslyn said in a quiet voice. “I’ll help you, Gin.”

“Thank you.” I might be twisting Roslyn’s arm to the breaking point, but there was no need to be ungrateful about it.

The vampire nodded her head. “Follow me.”

———

Roslyn led us out of her office. The maze of corridors snaked all the way around the interior perimeter of Northern Aggression, forming a series of passageways, peepholes, and discreet doors that let Roslyn, her hookers, and the giant bouncers who watched out for them have access to the entire nightclub without having to fight their way through the drinking, smoking, snorting, fucking crowd on the main floor.

After a series of twists and turns, Roslyn opened a door marked Supplies and stepped inside. Finn and I followed her.

Finn stopped dead in his tracks, and a wide smile spread across his face. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

I snorted. “Yeah, hooker heaven.”

The room wasn’t filled with what I would consider
supplies,
but then again, I wasn’t in the nightclub business.

Racks and racks of clothes took up a good portion of the room, along with a couple of rows of metal lockers and several vanity tables crammed with makeup, hairspray, and dozens of boxes of condoms, feminine lubricants, and assorted body oils.

Roslyn removed a clipboard and pen from the wall next to a clothes rack. She perched her hip on one of the makeup tables and stabbed the pen at me. “Strip,” she ordered.

“Why?”

Roslyn pierced me with a hard stare. “Because if you’re going to masquerade as one of my girls, then you’re damn sure going to look the part. I’m not sending out shoddy merchandise, especially not to one of Mab Monroe’s parties.”

I had to applaud Roslyn’s dedication to her craft, if nothing else. So I stepped out of my boots and socks, peeled off my jeans, and shrugged out of my fleece jacket.

I took a little more care with my long-sleeved T-shirt, making sure Roslyn didn’t see the two knives I had tucked up my sleeves or the one I’d had hidden against the small of my back. A minute later, I stood there in my bra and panties. The concrete floor felt like ice against my bare feet.

“Underwear too,” Roslyn barked. “I need to see everything.”

I looked at Finn and made a circle with my finger, suggesting he turn around.

“C’mon, Gin. It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before,” Finn protested.

Roslyn started. “Don’t tell me the two of you—”

“Yeah, we did,” I said. “When we were kids. Before I knew any better. Now turn around, Finn.”

Finn rolled his eyes, but he turned his back and wandered over to the racks of clothes, most of which were either transparent wisps of lace and satin or form-fitting pieces of leather.

Roslyn grabbed a tape measure from one of the tables and wrapped it around various parts of my body. I stood there and let her work. The vampire regarded me with all the interest a butcher would a cow. Standing there naked wasn’t the most comfortable thing I’d ever done, but I knew Roslyn had seen better bodies than mine in her time. Hell, she had one herself. So I decided to focus on more important matters.

“According to info Finn found, some of your girls have had dealings with Tobias Dawson before,” I said. “What does he like?”

“Why do you ask?”

I shrugged. “I need to attract his attention tonight. Can’t hurt to stack the deck in my favor.”

Roslyn wrote down another measurement on her clipboard.

“Have you ever seen Tobias Dawson?”

“Once.”

“Then you know about his cowboy fetish,” Roslyn said.

“You mean the cheesy snakeskin boots and the hat that’s almost as tall as he is?”

The vampire nodded. “Dawson not only dresses like a cowboy, but he acts like one too—especially in bed. He likes Texas beauty queens. Big blond hair, big blue eyes, big tits, tight asses, lots of makeup. Of which the only thing you currently have is a tight ass.”

“Thanks,” I said in a wry tone.

Roslyn raised her eyebrows. “Just pointing out the facts. You did come here for my professional opinion, after all.”

I nodded. “I did.”

“Dawson likes to take the lead. In keeping with the cowboy persona, he likes for a woman to catch his eye, and then he does his best to hog-tie her.”

“Literally or figuratively?”

Roslyn stared at me. “Both. One of my girls had rope burns for a week after paying him a visit.”

I filed the information away. “What else?”

“He also likes to wear chaps, a cowboy hat, and his boots when he fucks.”

“Sounds like a kinky bastard to me,” Finn said.

The vampire walked over to a different rack of clothes than the one Finn had been rifling through. “Unfortunately, not as kinky as some I’ve seen and done.”

Roslyn flipped through the clothes for a moment before turning back to me. “I assume you’ll want something with a little coverage to it. Where you can stash certain… supplies?”

Weapons, in other words. “Yeah. The more coverage the better. I like to be prepared.”

Roslyn nodded. “Any particular color you’d prefer?”

“Black.”

“Shocking,” she muttered.

After a few minutes, Roslyn pulled a black pushup bra and a set of sheer matching panties off the rack. She handed them to me. “Put those on.”

I did as she asked. The garments fit perfectly, and the bra pushed my small breasts up to new, gravity-defying heights. Finn let out a whistle of appreciation. I drew my finger across my throat, showing him exactly what would happen if he didn’t shut up. Finn just grinned at me.

Roslyn also plucked a black cocktail dress out of the mass of clothes and handed it to me. I slipped into the fabric. The dress was long-sleeved with a sweetheart neckline and bustier-like top. Thanks to the bra, my cleavage swelled on either side of the fabric. The skirt was a mass of black crinoline with tiny sequins sewn into it. The garment stopped just above my knees.

“How’s that?” Roslyn asked.

I looked at myself in a mirror over one of the vanity tables. The sleeves were loose enough for me to carry my knives, and I could strap a couple more to my thighs underneath the billowing skirt. “Perfect.”

Roslyn nodded, like she’d expected nothing else, and sashayed over to one of the vanity tables. She handed me a box that read Contacts—Sky Blue, and a long, curly, blond wig with teased bangs. “With the wig, contacts, and enough makeup, you’ll be Dawson’s dream girl. I assume you can do your own makeup.”