Chapter 2
“You should be careful,” the woman said with a steady voice. “It’s dark.”
Nala stepped onto the landing, her wrist still in the woman’s grip. “I’m sorry…” What was she apologizing for? For trespassing? For needing saving? Both? She wanted to cry. Her bones were saved, but she was also in a shitton of trouble! “I don’t know what else to say.”
Finally, the woman released her, holding her hand up so she could yet again readjust her cufflinks like a nervous tic. Perhaps beneath that cool exterior was someone as neurotic as everyone else.
“You could thank me.”
Nala looked back up with a start. “Uh, thanks?”
Her reaction was… well, there was no reaction.
Only a stoic look that said absolutely nothing at all.
Oh, she was a good-looking woman. Even in those shadows, Nala saw all the markings of an elegant specimen waiting for admirers to devour her.
In another life, where Nala was both interested in such things and not busy sneaking around in the name of vengeance, she would be attracted to an androgynous woman, possibly for the first time in her life.
“You’re welcome.” Right as Nala thought the woman would turn around and leave as mysteriously as she appeared, she said, “You’re not supposed to be back here.”
Caught! Twice! “Er… I got lost?”
By some divine intervention, the woman’s face softened. “I saw you in there,” she said, gesturing to the door. “You were making sure the coast was clear before coming in. You’re not supposed to be here.”
No matter how many times she reiterated that it didn’t sink into Nala’s brain.
She could be stubborn that way. “Please don’t tell on me,” she hissed, her fight-or-flight senses taking over.
She couldn’t be caught and thrown out. Not like this.
Not before she saw a glimpse of Xan Ravenwood resting on his laurels stained in blood. “I had to see him for myself.”
The woman cocked her head in curiosity, her hands disappearing into her trouser pockets. “See who? You’ve got me intrigued now.”
Nala looked down the stairs. “Xan Ravenwood. I heard he’s in there.”
They were silent. Music from both doors filtered into the hall. One was classical. The other was jazzy. Together, they were noise. “What business do you have with Ravenwood?” the woman asked.
Nala looked at the impeccable hair on her head. “My business is none of yours.”
She spoke in anger, not that she intended to.
She didn’t mean to betray her cool exterior.
How could it be avoided when images of her sister lying still and dead in a casket flooded her mind?
Standing there. Staring at Tasha’s lifeless face, surrounded by fresh daisies, her favorite flower.
Tasha was dead. The flowers were dying. They died to be buried with her, long before their time was due.
The world – and nature – was cruel that way.
Any sense of feeling, especially negative, was wrong in this situation.
Nala needed to be as lifeless as her dead sister.
If she were going to be emotional, then fuck it, she needed to be giddy and stupid.
“Oh, haha, I’m so stupid, L O L.” Yet she couldn’t fake that if she tried.
Nala couldn’t act. She was a creature who only knew instinct, and right now, her instincts weren’t giving her good advice at all.
“Hm.” The woman pulled her hands out of her pockets. “Perhaps it is my business. I’m going down to see Mr. Ravenwood. Except I have an appointment. I doubt you do.”
Nala was taken aback. She expected this type of attitude from this woman, but nevertheless, she didn’t like being on the brunt end of it. “Well…”
The woman looked her up and down. Scoped her out. Checked her out. Nala crossed her arms over her modest chest and summoned the best death glare she had. If the woman noticed, she didn’t let on or at least wasn’t fazed.
“I could get you in to see him.”
Those words danced in Nala’s brain but barely registered. It was like she heard them, but they were so preposterous, so improbable that she wouldn’t allow herself to hear them. See… him? “How so? You his friend or something?”
“Like I said, I have an appointment.” The woman looked at the door they came through. “Or I could go tell that nice, flirty bartender that I caught you back here where you don’t belong. I doubt you’d be able to see Mr. Ravenwood at all after that.”
“Blackmail, huh?”
“Hardly. I’m giving you a fair choice.”
“What do you want in return, Miss…”
The woman snorted. “Lake. Varen Lake. Doubt you’ve ever heard of me.”
“Should I have?”
“Not at all.”
“Good. Because I haven’t heard of you before.”
“You’re caustic.”
“And you’re creeping me out.” Nala shrugged. “I appreciate you saving my neck, quite literally, but I’m not sure if I’m interested.”
“How badly do you want to see Xan Ravenwood? I don’t care what your business is with him. I’ll get you in. You only have to pretend you know me.”
Pretend? This sounded less than ideal. “I’m not a good actress.”
“Then don’t tell him we met because you were sneaking down to see him. Don’t think of it as acting. Think of it as lying. Anyone can lie.”
What a strange thing to say.
“Hey, this might be your only chance to see Xan Ravenwood up close and personal. All I ask is that you don’t go in there as my guest and embarrass me.”
Nala looked around the hall as if a trap were about to spring. “I see,” she muttered. What was more important to her? Walking out of there unscathed, or accomplishing part of what she set out to do – namely, see the man who killed her sister?
She didn’t know who this Varen was, other than she wore expensive suits and perfume, but right now she was Nala’s only chance to not make the last few months in Portland a wash.
“All right,” she said with conviction. “I’ll go with you. As your guest. In exchange for you doing this and not telling on me.”
The corner of Varen’s mouth twitched. “Should I be worried about something else?”
Nala faced the staircase that tried to kill her. “Let’s do this before I lose my gumption.”
“Well,” Varen said when Nala was already halfway down the stairs. “I should still probably lead. I’m the one he’s expecting, after all.”
Nala stopped on a narrow step but did not look over her shoulder as she sensed Varen’s presence coming closer.
Varen passed her. When she was one step beneath Nala, she extended her arm. She did not look any friendlier.
Nala was dubious.
“Take my arm. Try to look sociable.”
Hesitantly, Nala wrapped her hand beneath Varen’s elbow and entwined their arms.
They entered a circle of people sitting on low, comfortable benches. Couples, each set wearing masks as delicate as they were formidable, turned heads in curiosity. Varen nodded but did not act as if she knew them. Nala kept her mouth shut and looked for Xan Ravenwood.
He was not hard to find.
The man sat on a raised dais as if perched on a throne made from the bones of his enemies.
There was nothing particularly special about his appearance.
Older. Silver hair. Slight fuzz on his face.
He wore a gray suit and black shined shoes that reflected the harsh spotlight shining above him.
As if he’s a god. By looking at the lingerie-clad vixens standing on either side of him? He did think of himself as a god.
Which was delightful because no man looked like he had a bigger god complex than Xan Ravenwood, patron saint of the Pacific Northwest’s capitalistic hive mind. Nala’s grip tightened on Varen’s arm, channeling her apprehension, anger, and hatred into this woman’s skin.
“Mr. Ravenwood,” Varen said in her quiet voice. “I hope you were expecting me.”
That was a sinister smile if Nala ever saw one.
“We most certainly were expecting you, Ms. Lake.”
Xan’s voice sounded gentle, but beneath that grandfatherly fa?ade was a cold-hearted killer.
The more Nala heard it, the more she believed it.
That’s him. That man is the reason Tasha is dead.
She shook. Not in her skin, but in her heart.
No, her body would remain firm and unwavering.
Inside? Fair game to the wind. “I was telling my friends here that we would have fresh blood tonight.”
Varen glimpsed at the masked faces around her. Most smiled, some in friendliness. Who were these people? Cronies? Lackeys? Hapless bystanders? Guilty by association, anyway.
“Pleasure to make everyone’s acquaintance.”
Nala didn’t know what to do or say. She was frozen, hoping to blend into the shadows and take in what she could. If she were asked anything, she didn’t know what she would do or say when bravado took over.
“Who is this gorgeous treasure?” Xan Ravenwood looked right at Nala.
Leered at her. At least he didn’t look at her as if she were a person.
Then he may have seen the hatred she harbored in her heart.
Instead, he merely saw a young female body prime for plucking.
“I thought you would be coming alone for your first few meetings.”
“Change of plans,” Varen said with confidence.
Curiosity piqued all around them. More men leered at her.
Women, too. They all struggled to catch a glimpse of Nala, some of them even straining in their seats as if she were some great celebrity come to grace their lives.
She was meat that suddenly wished she hadn’t worn a barely-there black dress.
Somehow, I don’t think jeans and flannel would make me feel much better.
She was exposed no matter how she dressed.
“I decided to bring someone I hope can get to know you all as well.”
“Oh?” Xan accepted a glass of Chardonnay from one of the women in lingerie. She smiled pleasantly, but from the look in her eyes, Nala could tell that this was a job for her. A prestigious one, probably, but a paycheck, nonetheless. “Go on.”
With every eye still on Nala, Varen turned to her with a look of… adoration?... on her countenance. It unnerved Nala to her unprepared core.
“This is my lovely sub, Nightingale.”