Jennifer Estep - Web of Lies

“All right,” I said. “So I’ll go in as a hooker.”

Finn nodded. “That’s actually where it gets a little easier.”

“Why?”

He grinned. “Because I happen to be very good friends with the person supplying the evening’s entertainment — Roslyn Phillips.”

First, Donovan had mentioned her name last night, and now Finn this morning. I hadn’t thought about the vampire in weeks, but here she was, popping up all over the place, even if she didn’t realize it. Even if I didn’t like the fact of how closely we were tied together.

Not only did Roslyn Phillips run Northern Aggression, the most decadent nightclub in Ashland, the vampire used to be a hooker herself. She had worked the Southtown streets for years before she’d saved enough money to move up into management and open her own gin joint. All vampires needed blood to survive, of course, but lots of them also powered up through sex, which is why so many of them worked as prostitutes. Plus, vamps could live a very long time, and hooking, well, it was a skill that would never go out of style or demand. Vamps needed cash just like the rest of us.

Roslyn Phillips was the best of the best. She could do things to men and women I’d never even dreamed of — and she’d taught her staff most of her tricks. But more important than that, the vampire owed me for killing her abusive brother-in-law and for not telling Finn how her loose lips had inadvertently led to Fletcher’s death. So Roslyn was going to have to deal with me again, whether she liked it or not.

I scraped up the last of my warm cobbler, then pushed my bowl away. “Well then, I guess it’s time to pay Roslyn a friendly visit.”

Finn grinned. He and Roslyn had been special friends for years. That is, they often met for dinner, drinks, and a night of hot, sweaty sex when they weren’t seeing other people. Sometimes, even if they were.

“Oh, goodie,” Finn drawled. “A field trip.”

It was a little after one when we pulled into the parking lot of Northern Aggression, which was located in Northtown, as befitted its name. By eight o’clock tonight, high-end cars of all makes and models would fill the lot, and a long line of eager men and women would be waiting to get inside and satisfy their desperate desires.

But on this cold November afternoon, the nightclub looked like some anonymous warehouse. A big, gray, metal box you’d find in any one of Ashland’s industrial parks — except for the enormous rune over the door. A neon light shaped like a heart with an arrow through it perched above the entrance to the nightclub, marking it as something out of the ordinary. The pierced heart was Roslyn Phillips’s personal rune and the symbol for her club. From previous visits, I knew the sign would flash red, then yellow, then orange when it was turned on. But right now, it was just a hunk of metal and glass hovering above the door.

“The place looks deserted. You’re sure Roslyn’s here?”

I asked. “I thought she stayed home during the day and watched her niece, Catherine.”

Finn shrugged. “Not today. She said she was here looking over the books since it was getting close to the end of the month. She’s expecting us.”

“Marvelous,” I murmured.

We got out of the car and headed toward the entrance.

The front door was locked, so Finn rapped on it. His knuckles made a hollow, ringing sound on the reinforced steel door. A few seconds later, something clanged, like a security bar being thrown back, and the door rattled open. Xavier, the nightclub’s head bouncer, stuck his head outside. The giant looked even larger, wider, and stronger in the weak afternoon sun than he had at the Pork Pit when he’d arrested Jake McAllister a couple of nights ago.

His dark eyes flicked over Finn, then me, then moved back to Finn.

Finn knew exactly what was expected. He smiled and stretched out his hand. Xavier shook it and palmed the offered C-note with surprising grace for someone with hands as big as a melon.

The giant grinned. “Always a pleasure to see you, Finn. Come on in.”

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.