Lisa Childs - Mistress of the Underground

“So Paige came to the rescue.” As she had often rescued her brother and anyone who’d been fortunate enough to have her representing them in court.

“You two have that in common,” the other man told him. “You’re both rescuers.”

Ben shook his head, refusing to let Sebastian diffuse his anger with compliments. Especially unfounded ones. “We both know that’s not true—or the club wouldn’t have been at risk of closing.”

“You did everything you could. More than anyone else could have done,” Sebastian assured him, then patted his own chest. “I’m living proof of your skills.”

“Okay, I understand her giving you the money.” Because how could anyone refuse this man anything? “But why’d she have to quit her job and get involved in the day-to-day operation?”

Sebastian shrugged. “I guess you’re not the only one keeping secrets now.”

“I’ve never been the only one keeping secrets,” Ben reminded his ex-brother-in-law. “You’ve got to get her out of here. It’s not safe for her to be here.”

The other man nodded. “I know that. What I don’t know is how to get her to leave.”

“You have to think of something,” Ben insisted. “She’s going to get hurt. Just being here puts her in danger.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Sebastian’s usually smooth voice vibrated with frustration and fear. “You’re the only mortal who can know the truth and live.”

Ben snorted with derision. “That’s hardly an honor.” Knowing the secret had ruined his life and his marriage.

“It’s a necessity,” Sebastian admitted. “You’re a necessity.”

“So can’t I barter for her protection…?”

Sebastian shook his head. “You don’t think I tried?”

“But I have more leverage than you do,” Ben pointed out, with no pride. “I’m the only one who can keep the undead really undead.”

Sebastian pressed his hand against his chest, as if to assure himself that his heart still beat. “Don’t I know…”

“Don’t they know that?” Ben asked, frustration clenching the muscles in his stomach. “Don’t they remember what I’ve done for them—for most of them?”

“They respect the hell out of you, Ben. Nothing’s going to happen to you. But…”

“So doesn’t that respect give me leverage to protect Paige?”

Sebastian shook his head. “Not now. You two aren’t together anymore.”

He could argue about that since they had just been very together. But they now lived separately. Hell, even when they’d been married, they’d lived separate lives.

“And that’s because of this damn secret—this damn secret life I’ve been living,” Ben said, the frustration threatening to consume him now.

“There’s more to your breakup than that,” Sebastian said, his voice soft with commiseration.

Ben closed his eyes on a wave of regret and pain. “I can save you—all of you—but I couldn’t save my own. I couldn’t save what was mine.”

A strong hand closed over his shoulder and squeezed. “You have to stop blaming yourself.”

“I—I can’t…”

“That’s something else you and Paige have in common then,” Sebastian said. “You can’t stop blaming yourselves—for things over which you had no control. And you have no control over this, Ben. No matter what you mean to the Underground community, the secret society, you can’t protect Paige.”

“Then you better.” He jabbed his fingertip against Sebastian’s heart—the heart from which Ben had removed a wooden stake a decade ago.

He had saved Sebastian’s life but ended his own—at least the life he’d once known. The life to which he could never return.

As much as Paige needed to stay away from Club Underground, Ben needed to stay away from her. She only reminded him of all that he’d lost—and all that he could never have again.

He was gone. Paige knew the moment Ben left Club Underground. Her pulse slowed and her skin stopped tingling. But even though he was gone, she could still feel his touch—could still taste him.

With a slightly trembling hand, she lifted the flute of champagne to her lips. She needed to wash away his flavor. If only she could wash away her feelings for him as easily.

“Wait!” Campbell O’Neil yelled over the music, which was too loud even at the quiet corner table. Then the redhead grasped Paige’s arm, holding the glass just shy of her mouth. “We have to make a toast first.”

“We have to wait for Kate before we do that,” Dr. Renae Grabill leaned across the table to add.

Paige glanced around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the tall brunette in the crowd. She really needed a drink. And she really needed her friends—all her friends—but most especially Lieutenant Kate Wever. Perhaps the Zantrax major case detective could help her discover the secrets of Club Underground. “Is she working late?”

“She was here,” Elizabeth Turrell said from where she sat at Paige’s side. “Then she thought she recognized someone in the crowd.”

“She knows someone here?” Renae asked doubtfully as she young trauma surgeon studied the bodies gyrating on the dance floor.

Campbell snorted. “A lot of these people look familiar to me, too.”

Nerves fluttered in Paige’s stomach. “It’s probably not a good thing that a prosecutor and a detective think my customers look familiar.”

“Your customers,” Elizabeth mused. “ You shouldn’t be here. You should be back at the firm.”

Paige met her friend’s gaze; guilt darkened the other woman’s brown eyes. “Lizzy…”

“It’s my fault that you’re not,” Elizabeth said.

Paige squeezed the other woman’s hand. “You can’t blame yourself.”

“No, blame that dick you married,” Kate remarked as she joined the group of friends.

Lizzy’s ex—and Paige’s former employer—had fired Paige to spite Lizzy for finally finding the nerve to divorce him. He probably hadn’t wanted to fire Elizabeth, who was a divorce lawyer at the firm, because he might have had to pay more child support. So Roger had fired his ex’s friend instead. If Paige could have proved it, she would have sued him, but despite her suspicions and Lizzy’s certainty, she’d had no proof. And no job.

“So was it him?” Campbell asked.

“Who?” Kate asked.

“Whoever you thought you recognized,” the assistant D.A. reminded her.

Kate shrugged as if unconcerned, but her face was tense with distress, her skin drained of all color. “I don’t know…” She drew in a shaky breath, then fixed her gaze on Paige’s face. Her pale blue eyes narrowed. “I’m obviously not the only one who doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing. What were you thinking, Paige, to buy this place?”

Goose bumps rose on Paige’s skin. So she hadn’t imagined that there was something strange about Club Underground. “What is it about this place? What do you know?”

Kate shrugged again. “Nothing I can prove.”

Elizabeth uttered a nervous laugh even as she shivered. “C’mon, Paige, don’t let Detective Wever’s cynical view of the world affect yours.”

Paige sighed. “I actually have my own cynical view.” And maybe that had colored her judgment regarding the club. If she didn’t dare care about it too much, she wouldn’t lose it, as she had lost everything else that mattered to her. First her father, then her mother, and more recently her husband, her career and her…

“Well, let’s toast for a brighter view,” Elizabeth suggested as she lifted the glass of champagne.

Kate lifted her glass, too, but she offered a warning instead of a toast. “We’re not done yet. We can celebrate your new gig tonight, but we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”