Markos Petrakis surveyed the crowd filling his restored Spanish colonial in downtown Santa Fe, a glittering gathering of life at the top. Diamonds and leather fringe, cowboy boots and sequins, the crème de la crème of Santa Fe gathered to honor the cause of Native American art.
At his side, his wife Marcella constantly scanned the rooms for any sign that the service was less than perfect. “He’s not here,” she murmured.
Markos examined her for telltale signs. Did the pulse in her slender neck pound more quickly? “Do you care, my dear?”
She continued her scrutiny. “It would be a social coup. He’s been a recluse since he first arrived, and he—” Her head rose swiftly, a tiny line of displeasure between her brows. Placing one hand on his arm to mark her passage, she headed off to make her disfavor known.
He noted her destination and smiled. Pity the poor waiter who caused a single ripple in Marcella’s grand design.
“I thought she’d never leave your side.” The low, husky voice emerged from behind his shoulder.
Markos shrugged. “She is my wife, you know.”
“That could be changed,” Antonia Montoya observed, her own face neutral, unless one looked at her eyes. Some might say it was a dangerous game he played, having his attorney also his lover. But what was life without amusement?
She was a superb creature, those she-cat claws sharp, her insatiable hunger invigorating. Right now, long dark hair captured in a severe French braid, her breasts loose under white silk and the heavy squash blossom necklace, she tempted him to do something foolish.
But he was not a foolish man.
“Isn’t there somewhere we can go?” Her low, edgy whisper excited him.
“Not tonight, Antonia.”
She cut a sideways glance at him, promising retribution.
Delicious prospect.
He smiled back, then redirected his attention. A young woman standing at the fringes caught his eye. Very young, likely not yet out of her teens, but her curves already ripe. Dressed in a short red sheath at odds with her virginal demeanor, she moved like a nun, he mused, though her looks were pure Lolita.
“Don’t even think about it,” Antonia warned. “She’s barely past jailbait.”
But fresh…lovely and dewy as a rose holding one perfect drop of moisture before the sun would burn it away.
“Too young for me,” he pronounced. “It’s mere curiosity. I haven’t seen her before.”
“Few have. She’s been in a Swiss boarding school, kept safe and untouched. Her brother guards her like the crown jewels. I can’t imagine why she’s here tonight.”
Markos watched the girl’s eyes shift nervously. “Perhaps he doesn’t know.”
Antonia laughed. “You can bet Dante doesn’t know or she wouldn’t be here.”
Markos schooled his features carefully. “Dante Sabanne?” The girl’s existence had been only rumored. Perhaps she was the key to all he wanted.
“Her name’s Cassandra. My mother is their housekeeper. Dante will have her hide if he finds out she’s here.”
“We will have to make sure that doesn’t happen, won’t we?” He turned to face her. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d better circulate. I’m sure you understand.”
Her eyes telegraphed her displeasure. Perhaps he should rethink their liaison. Antonia was a gifted attorney whose sharp mind had proven invaluable, but jealous mistresses could become tiresome.
Stopping to greet guests along the way, he reined in his impatience to cross the room, never letting Cassandra Sabanne out of his sight.
Cassie kept to the wall, more and more certain she’d made a mistake in coming to this reception. When she’d seen the invitation addressed to Dante, she’d sneaked it up to her room, certain he’d never attend.
She’d thought this would be a good place to find out about The Club. She’d heard that a lot of the rich, sophisticated crowd hung out there, and there was plenty of money in this group.
Dante probably had more money than anyone here, but he seldom went anywhere interesting. He spent much of his time, when he wasn’t conducting business on the phone or traveling to visit his companies, in his study poring over musty old texts.
And preventing her from having any fun herself.
Sometimes she could barely remember the Dante who laughed and had tea parties with her, so big and out of place with her dolls but so patient. He’d been the one to teach her to swim, who’d often carried her high on his shoulders and urged her to touch the sky.
But not anymore. Not since their mother had died and left her in Dante’s care.
Thank goodness he was out of town now; she’d never have pulled this off, otherwise. If Mrs. Montoya checked her bed too closely, she’d be in trouble. Mrs. Montoya slept deeply, however, and though Melinda had been too chicken to come, she’d promised to cover for her.
Anyway, Cassie would be home long before Mrs. Montoya woke up, none the wiser. She could actually leave right now. These people were all stuffy and boring, as far as she could tell. Her idea was a bust.
Uh-oh. Cassie ducked into a corner.
Melinda’s Aunt Antonia. What was she doing here? She knew Dante. Cassie searched for the best way to escape without being seen.
Ms. Montoya’s eyes scanned the room, and for a second, Cassie thought she was busted. Then the crowd between them shifted, and Cassie turned to make her escape. As she threaded her way around the edges, suddenly someone stepped squarely into her path.
Cassie looked up and barely contained a gasp. It was the older man who’d been with Ms. Montoya. Sharp brown eyes shaded by bushy dark brows studied her, while amusement curved thin lips that looked as if they rarely smiled.
“Leaving us so soon?”
“I…” Cassie peered past him, attempting to spot Antonia. He was not as tall as Dante, but he still topped her by several inches.
“Looking for someone?” One dark eyebrow arched, his voice amused.
“I—no, I just…” She glanced up. “I, uh, wanted a drink.”
His eyes narrowed for a second, then he crooked a finger, and a waiter instantly appeared. The dark man lifted a flute of champagne from the tray and presented it to her.
Awesome. He couldn’t tell she was underage.
“Americans are so provincial in their attitudes, wouldn’t you agree?”
Okay, so he could tell…but he was cool about it. Cassie nodded cautiously and sipped her drink. The little bubbles tickled her throat. Maybe this party wouldn’t be so bad, after all—if she could escape Antonia Montoya. She craned to look behind him again.
“If you are not careful, you will hurt my feelings. After all, the host should be able to claim a guest’s attention for a little while, don’t you think?”
Host? She choked a little on her champagne, then could have groaned. How juvenile. “You—you’re Markos Petrakis?”
An elegant nod and faint bow. “At your service, Ms—?”
She chewed her lip for an instant. If she told him her name, he might know Dante. “Cassie. Just…Cassie.” Better to be safe.
“Beauteous Cassie, I’m delighted to make your acquaintance.” Taking her free hand, he pressed his lips to her fingers. “Please call me Markos.”
Her tummy felt a little odd and feathery. He was very charming.
“So what do you think of our little gathering?” He studied her closely as though he truly wanted to know.
“It’s all right.”
“All right? You wound me,” he said, hand clutched to his chest.
“I didn’t mean…” Just like a dumb little kid, she’d blown it. She should have said something witty, but what?
“Markos, darling, you’re neglecting our other guests.” The slender, almost bony woman who appeared at his side looked down her nose at Cassie as though she had some disease.
The dislike was instant and mutual. The woman might be dressed to the nines in her black sequins and diamonds, but she was mean to the core, Cassie could tell. Just like Sister Agatha, her Latin teacher.
“My dear, I’d like you to meet Cassie.” He winked at her, and Cassie had to suppress a grin. “This is my wife, Marcella.”
“How do you do?” A cool nod, no offered hand. Turning back to her husband, she touched his arm, the demand clear. “There’s someone you need to meet, Markos.” She walked away, seeming confident that he’d follow.
He sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically at Cassie. “Duty calls, I’m afraid.” Reaching for her hand again, he pressed warm lips to her fingers like she’d seen in old movies. “I’ll make it around this way again. Enjoy yourself, Cassie.”
She watched him go and sipped again, the warm glow of champagne combining with Markos’s welcome to make her reconsider her opinion of the gathering.
Then she spotted Antonia Montoya headed her way, though she didn’t think the older woman had seen her yet.
Cassie set her glass down on a nearby table and aimed for the door. She’d better not tempt fate anymore. Except for Markos, they were all losers anyway. She’d have to come up with another way to find out where The Club was going to be held next.
Jace drove by downtown on her way to the station, her gaze sweeping doorways and alleys for Jimmy. When she saw the lights on inside Myra’s shop, she parked and went to the door, knocking to alert her landlady and friend that she had a visitor.
Myra looked up from the table where she pored over a Tarot deck and grinned, then rose to unlock the door and usher Jace inside. A blast of incense and potpourri assaulted Jace’s nose while her eyes contended with a shower of rainbows spilling from the crystals in Myra’s front window.
“Well, stranger, just the person I wanted to see.” Myra’s delight brought a reluctant smile to Jace’s face. Bottle-blonde and blowsy, truly one of the kindest souls on earth, Myra True Heart nèe Daniels could drag a smile from a dead man.
“Don’t tell me. You saw me in your crystal ball.”
Myra shook her head, blonde curls frothing over the colorful scarf that banded her head, concentric circle dangles tinkling at each ear. “Such a cynic, Jace. You know I use the cards.”
Jace grinned. Their banter was of long standing. Hearts Speak True was the name of Myra’s New Age shop, and somewhere in the clutter, all of Santa Fe’s metaphysical needs could be met, from séance to crystal cleansing, herbal baths to Swedish massage to reiki. The rich aroma of incense permeated everything, and the store reflected Myra’s own eclectic tastes—in clothing, in men and, lucky for Jace, in friends. The older woman was accepting of everyone; she’d champion a bum just as easily as a cop.
Sam Sunshine and Myra had once been lovers, in their salad days, as Myra called them.
Jace got down to business. “I’d like to plane off the bottom of the front door, Myra, just enough to keep it from dragging.”
“Sure, sugar, whatever you want. Do you need some help?”
Jace shuddered at the thought. The months she’d spent in the cabin had been devoted to reversing her landlady’s previous repairs. “No, thanks. I can handle it. I’ll borrow a plane from Earl.”
“Get that good-looking Gabriel to help you take off the heavy door, sugar.”
“Stop matchmaking, Myra.”
“You get to be my age, and you wish you’d concentrated on one good man instead of playing around. All that freedom and time don’t keep you warm at night.”
Here was Jace’s opening. “Was that what happened with Sam?”
Myra’s eyes glistened. She dabbed unashamedly at the tears. “Sam was…well, I don’t know if he and I could ever have made a go of a relationship.”
“Why not?”
“Sam had a fire in him for saving the world from itself. That mission was more important to him than any one person.”
“So how did Sam become—” She stopped, noting the pain that made effervescent Myra look suddenly old.
“An addict? Homeless?” She stared into a past Jace couldn’t see. “I think the world didn’t want saving, and it broke Sam’s heart.”
“We don’t have the autopsy results back yet, but do you know who he hung out with, who might have seen him last?”
“He came around here sometimes, but I don’t think he had that many friends.”
“Where did he sleep?”
“Wherever he could.”
“In the winter?”
“He…” Her voice was barely a whisper now. “Sometimes, when he could still—when he could understand it was me, he would…” Myra’s head rose, her eyes blazed defiance. “He stayed with me when he was able to tolerate being inside a house.”
“And when he couldn’t?”
“Sometimes he’d sleep in my storage area. I left it unlocked for him every night.”
“Left the back of your store unlocked? Good grief, don’t you know better than that?”
“Don’t lecture me. I’m old enough to be your mother. My spirit guides told me it would be fine, and it was.” Her eyes appealed. “Don’t you see, Jace? I couldn’t let him stay out in the cold. He didn’t always take drugs. There was just something wrong inside his head. He was desperately lonely. I had to help.”
Jace rubbed her arm in sympathy. “You’re a good friend, Myra.”
She shrugged. “Yes, well, that and a nickel…” She studied Jace. “You look tired. Weary from more than lack of sleep. What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine.”
“Is it Gabriel?”
“I don’t want to talk about him right now.”
“Why not? I thought you two were getting close.”
“It’s just sex. We’re fine.”
“You’re both wasting valuable time.” But she dropped the subject. “Heard from Jimmy?”
Jace’s gaze shifted. “Have you seen him?”
“He’s back?”
Jace sagged. “In a manner of speaking.”
“Oh, hon.” Compassion filled Myra’s voice. She was the only person to whom Jace had ever admitted how disturbing she found her brother’s inability to cope, his restlessness. Gabriel urged her to cut the ties, but she just couldn’t. Jimmy was her brother, no matter how he screwed up.
She shrugged. “He’s in town but he’s not with me. We had a big fight. He’s gotten involved with some cult.”
“Cult?”
“Yeah, some savior who’s going to lead them all into the light, going to make their lives meaningful.” What had he said? “Something about the ancient gods speaking to mankind or some bullshit like that.”
“He needs a center, Jace.”
“He has me!” Jace’s voice went shrill. As quickly, she fell silent. Through all the anger at being the sole support, she’d never realized that she’d counted on being needed.
“He’s looking for his way. You can’t do that for him. Especially when you refuse to acknowledge your own abilities.” Myra had it in her head that Jace had some kind of bullshit woo-woo skills she wasn’t using.
“Don’t start on me.” When Jace was young, her mother had sometimes prattled on about a grandmother with mystical gifts Jace might have, too. Back then she’d thought it romantic and exciting, but that was before her world had collapsed and she’d wised up to reality. That was not and never would be any part of who Jace had made herself.
Badly, she wanted to pace but forced herself to stand still. “He says he’s required to leave his past behind, go through some ritual. It sounds like some kind of Satanic thing. You heard about this one?”
“A whisper here and there, but nothing substantial. We could look, though, if you’d work with me to help focus my sight.”
Jace narrowed her eyes. “I’m serious, Myra.”
“So am I, hon.” But it was said gently because Myra was not one for confrontation.
Jace knew how miserable hard feelings made her friend. She was too soft for this world. So Jace forced herself to be gentle, too, in the only way she knew, by keeping it light. “Well, sooner or later, every nutcase in Santa Fe comes through this shop. Will you let me know if you hear anything?”
Myra rewarded her with a smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment to the popularity of my wares.”
Jace grinned. “Always the optimist.” She turned to leave. “Gotta go.”
“Be well, Jace.”
“Yeah. You, too.” She didn’t look back, but she was sure Myra was already reading cards over her fate.
A few minutes later, Jace walked into the station. “Where’s Earl?”
“Captain’s office,” the duty officer said. “Stiff in an industrial park.”
Jace’s heart skipped. Jimmy. “Male or female?”
“Female.”
Jace breathed again.
But another death? So soon? Santa Fe, for all its tourist traffic, was essentially a quiet town.
Just then Earl emerged and gestured for Jace to join him in the captain’s office. Stomach jumping, she followed. The captain was old-school and had a rep for being a stickler for procedure and sparkling clean records. Though no one ever said it out loud, he was also not a fan of women on the force, though he had never, to her knowledge, been guilty of overt sexism. Every female on the force, however, knew the bar was set higher for them.
Earl closed the door behind her. Capt. Gonzales smoothed one palm across his thinning dark hair, frowning. “Have a seat, Detective.”
“Yes, sir.” She cast a glance over at an impassive Earl, seeking clues.
Gonzales spoke. “You’ve worked undercover before.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Prostitution sting.”
“Yes, sir.”
“This will be different, Detective.”
Yes! An undercover assignment. She had no choice but to wait, but her heartbeat skipped.
His pause was a long one.
“Ramsey investigated a homicide this morning. A young woman. Looks like rape was involved.”
Jace stared at him. “You think it’s related to Cardozo’s cases? The Club?”
Gonzales frowned again.
Shut up, Jace. The man was all about slow, methodical steps.
Earl spoke up. “We’ll know more when we get the autopsy reports. I’ve asked the M.E. to pay special attention to the tox screens to see if there’s anything there that would interfere with memory.”
“Narcotics has been hearing about this club for a while now, but they’re stretched thin with the new pipeline pouring in from across the border. Up to now, it’s seemed like a bunch of bored rich guys playing around.” Gonzales leaned forward. “The Club is invitation only, moving from place to place, held on an irregular basis. There’s some kind of elaborate system to notify the interested parties that we haven’t cracked yet. They can set up and tear down in a few hours, and they don’t leave anything behind.”
Interesting. Jace’s foot jiggled as she forced herself to wait.
“There’s something else. We don’t know its significance yet, but you need to keep your eyes peeled. The victim was found with an object in her hand.”
“What kind of object?”
Earl spoke up. “Here.” He drew photographs out of the breast pocket of his suit.
Jace studied them. The victim was young, and she couldn’t help thinking of Valerie Turner. The Club was taking on nastier overtones all the time. “What kind of symbol is this? It doesn’t seem Native American.”
Earl shook his head. “Not like anything I’ve ever run across.”
Jace studied it closer. Tiny, worked in cheap metal, the markings were indistinct, but they swirled around a cheap green stone in the center.
The captain spoke again. “We’ve had higher priority cases up to now, but if there’s something more than some bored social types getting high and dancing, we need to know. I want you there the next time The Club happens,” Gonzales said. “But we don’t have a way for you to get the location yet.”
“I bet I can get an invitation.”
His lips pursed. “All right, Detective. I’ll also have Narcotics lean on their informants and see what we can turn up.” Gonzales paused. “Any questions?”
“No, sir.”
Satisfaction surged through her. This could be a big case. If she pulled this off…
“You won’t be going in there alone, Detective. I’ll assign someone to be your date.”
That slapped her back on terra firma. “Who?” The squad was small. Earl would stick out like a sore thumb. Cardozo was a dick.
Gonzales’s eyes chilled. “Does it matter?”
“No, sir. I, uh, I was just thinking that since no one’s been in there yet and we don’t know what to expect, maybe it’s better if I go alone.”
She could feel Earl stiffening beside her. “Jace…”
“I don’t need glory hounds on this detail.” The captain waited several beats while Jace inwardly squirmed. “Am I going to regret assigning you?”
She wanted this too bad to press. “No, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“There may be no connection here. This is strictly preliminary observation. You won’t be wired, there won’t be a team outside. At this point, I simply want to know if there’s something going on that deserves our attention. That’ll be it for now, Detective.”
“Yes, sir.” Jace rose from her chair. “I’ll do a good job for you, Captain.”
His expression said she’d better.
Earl followed her out. “What the hell are you doing? You know he’s an old school cop.”
“And considers female officers a necessary evil, yeah, I know.”
“So what was that, giving him advice? I busted my ass to give you a shot.”
“I was afraid he was going to send in Cardozo. They’re thick as thieves.”
“Even if he does, what are you going to do about it? This is bush league behavior, kid.”
“But Cardozo’s blowing his case.”
“Maybe.” Earl glanced at her. “He obviously doesn’t know that his victim would rather talk to you.”
“How—”
“I had ears in this department before you were walking.”
How had he found out? Had Gabriel talked to Earl about yesterday?
“Cardozo won’t hear it from me, but you’d better be careful when you go back to her to find out about The Club.”
Jace’s head swiveled toward him. “We just met in the hallway, that’s all.”
“I don’t want to know. Just be careful. I’ll tag you when the lab reports turn up.” He shambled off.
Jace glanced over where Cardozo held a phone to his ear, grimacing.
Can’t play with the big boys, huh, Cardozo?
I’ll show you.
The sky was a scattering of stars against black velvet. The cool night wind puckered her nipples beneath the tight black lace blouse she’d borrowed from Myra. Her own wardrobe was far too basic and no-nonsense to work. With the blouse, Myra had paired a red leather vest cut close to the body that cupped and displayed Jace’s breasts, a matching mini-skirt, and black stilettos in which Jace just hoped she wouldn’t fall flat on her ass. Scarlet lipstick finished off an outfit that was already driving Jace crazy, it was so uncomfortable.
Earl never had to wear heels undercover. If he could see her, he’d laugh his butt off, she just knew it.
So here she stood, required daisy in hand in accordance with Valerie’s instructions, waiting for her babysitter to meet her outside the building that was the first stop in tonight’s circuitous path to The Club.
A long, slow whistle pierced the air. “Jeez, Jace, how come you never wear skirts like that to the station?”
Jace grimaced. “Don’t you dare laugh.” She was relieved, though that it was David Halliday, a tall, lanky patrol officer who’d come on the force right before she’d moved out of patrol. Dressed in dark brown pleated slacks and a matching brown silk shirt with banded collar, his transformation from uniform was impressive. “I mean it, Halliday.”
“I promise I’m not laughing. I never saw you look like this.”
She punched his arm. “Damn it, I knew it. I look like I should be working the streets.”
“If you were, you’d make a fortune. Seriously hot, girl.”
“Shut up, Halliday.” Not that she didn’t enjoy his gobsmacked expression a little before she got back to business. “Now remember, I’ve got to circulate so I can see what kind of offers I get. Don’t hang too close.”
“You’re gonna get hit on by every man in that place, I guarantee it.”
“That’s the plan.”
His jaw flexed. “I don’t know, Jace. I better stick close. You’re a danger to yourself in that outfit.”
“I’ll be a danger to you if you screw this up by scaring anyone off.” She’d get her bluff in early. “I have to talk to people, see what I can turn up. Your job is to circulate and do the same.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Minutes later, having passed the first test with the daisy as their ticket, they were directed to the back exit of the building. There another man looked at the piece of paper they’d been given and sent them down an alley and through a dive even hardcore drunks wouldn’t frequent.
In a darkened hallway they were checked for a last time then admitted, crossing through one abandoned store and into an old warehouse.
Before she walked through the last door, they were handed black masks and told to don them, something Valerie hadn’t mentioned. Jace shrugged at Halliday and did as instructed.
Then she walked inside to a different universe.
Techno music soared to the pitch-black ceiling. Deep, pounding bass vibrated through the floor. A jungle rhythm sizzled under her skin, while unearthly high notes spiraled around her. Bursts of laser light in red, gold and blue punctured the inky shadows. Wisps of smoke rose in the air, weaving through glittering tendrils suspended above the dancers’ heads.
Everyone was either masked or heavily made up, something the department hadn’t counted on. She and Halliday would have to be extremely observant.
Some patrons wore costumes ranging from S&M leather and metal to gossamer fairy wings to nearly naked, though some were in street clothes, as well. One woman writhing a few feet away appeared to be wearing only gold body paint with sinuous vines wrapping one thigh, climbing up her belly and circling the opposite breast.
Jace had never seen anything like it in her life.
Halliday touched her shoulder. She jumped. “What?” No way could she hear him.
He leaned down, shouting over the din. “Want something to drink?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“You won’t drink anything unless I get it for you, will you?”
She rolled her eyes, but his caution was understandable. Places like this were perfect for drugs to be slipped into a drink when a girl wasn’t looking. Such was probably the explanation for Valerie’s amnesia.
The dead girl hadn’t been so lucky. Whatever she’d been given, it hadn’t just rendered her easy—it had killed her. Whoever had administered it might be here tonight.
She stood on her toes and spoke into Halliday’s ear. “Come dance with me for a second while we get our bearings. Then we both need to start circulating.”
He nodded and grabbed her hand. They moved onto the crowded dance floor. Some people bore blasé expressions. A fair number were seriously wasted. In every direction, bodies rubbed, fingers stroked…much more flesh was revealed than concealed.
Jace was anything but a prude, but she felt extremely self-conscious trying to dirty dance with the fresh-faced Halliday, so she soon nodded and released him. She loved to dance and hadn’t done so in a very long time. It was easy to fall into character and let her body move into the rhythm; more difficult was remaining alert to her surroundings when the sensory input was so overwhelming.
A tall black man, bare-chested and wearing a dog collar and knee-high boots grabbed her hips, grinding his codpiece slowly against her, his dark eyes never leaving her breasts.
Jace schooled her features even as she longed to knee his groin. Executing a sinuous turn instead, she slid past the couple to her left and let the crowd swallow her up.
The place definitely created a mood. All rules of normal behavior seemed to have been suspended. The music, the lights…the rhythms of the night sang through her body. In one darkened corner a man sat with a woman straddling him, her skirt up over her hips, her garter belt a slash of midnight against pale skin. His mouth suckled her breast, his hands squeezed her buttocks. Jace stared, riveted by the shutter-click glimpses allowed her between writhing bodies.
She’d never watched someone else have sex before in real life.
It was erotic as hell.
Jace gathered her wits and danced to the opposite side of the floor, resisting the temptation to look again at the couple. She couldn’t help noticing the glances of approval she drew, the greedy stares. The naked invitations.
Nobody had intimated that this was a sex club, but she understood now how someone as young as Valerie got into trouble here.
Hands clamped on her waist and turned her. Jace tensed. A blond man near her height stood before her, friendly smile disarming. Want to dance? he mouthed, already moving with her, hands resting lightly on her hips.
Making connections was why she was here, she reminded herself. He looked less harmful than some she’d seen. Certainly less harmful than that cokehead who’d just grabbed her ass.
She nodded and smiled back. Dancing to the nonstop music, the atmosphere sucked her into the undertow of pulsating beat and musky shadows, the ripe, carnal scents of people focused on pleasure.
She lost track of time as the driving techno beat spread through her body. Smoky darkness closed in, the air thickened with a mélange of heady perfumes and glistening sweat, spiked by the sharp tang of arousal. Her own body softened into languor as the backbeat hummed in the soles of her feet and searing electric guitar notes sizzled up her spine.
Her partner whirled her, drew her to the edge of the dance floor near a corner draped with iridescent ebony fabric that sparkled where it caught the light. Over here the smoke was thicker, but she welcomed the wafts of cooler air outside the packed crowd of bodies. In the haze, Jace’s vision blurred, and she blinked hard, attempting to clear it.
Movement inside an opening in the fabric caught her eye.
Two bodies entwined, undulating, limned in phosphorescent blue light.
A fall of long black hair shifted, revealing the austere lines of a man’s face, his mouth sliding over his partner’s exposed throat, her back arched in ecstasy. Her own dark mane fell nearly to her waist. They moved as one flesh, oblivious to any observers.
Or just not caring.
Jace couldn’t tear her gaze away.
Then the man lifted his head. Locked his eyes on hers.
Tiny hairs rose on her skin. His eyes…even masked, they felt like a physical caress.
She shivered.
His hands began to move over the voluptuous brunette, and Jace imagined those fingers stroking over her own flesh. She watched the flash of his heavy silver ring as the woman writhed to mirror needs Jace herself could feel…longings to let go, to abandon herself and the control she lived by.
Something stirred deep within her, the yearning of a hawk to fly, to let the currents bear her away. As he watched her, she couldn’t help responding, his gaze calling from her something deep and primal. Cast into a play of blue light and black shadow, his hands caressed, disappeared over curves—and Jace swore she felt every touch. Her skirt slid up her thighs, and she swayed. Rocked her pelvis, sought his hand to slip between her legs…
Limbs heavy, body molasses-slow but exquisitely sensitive, she leaned toward him. Reached out to see if he was real…
The beat shifted.
Blue lights faded.
The drapes descended.
His hold on her snapped.
Jace teetered as she blinked from her trance, her whole system shocked by the quick dive from arousal. Good God. What—She…he couldn’t have been…what had just happened? She jerked around, rubbed her arms to get warm.
Her partner of the friendly smile had vanished.
She was alone.
The music raced faster. Another man approached, his gaze too bright, his smile too jagged. Riding on the sharp edge of panic, she slapped at grasping hands and charged around the edge of the sweaty, throbbing mass. She had to get out of here and gather her wits. She couldn’t wait for Halliday.
She had nearly made it to the door when a familiar head of curly auburn hair caught her eye.
Jimmy? Jace reversed course and plunged into the crowd after him. A hand snagged her arm. She whirled, fist cocked.
“Jace? Whoa—you okay?”
Halliday.
She recoiled from his grip. “Don’t touch me.”
“What is it? Did someone hurt you?”
“No!” Her voice was too sharp, she knew it but couldn’t seem to help herself. She concentrated on sucking in one deep breath after another, staring at the floor until she could regain her composure.
“Talk to me. What’s going on?”
She had to grab the reins again. She couldn’t have Halliday reporting that she’d freaked. “One too many assholes on the dance floor, that’s all,” she said far more casually than she felt.
She scanned the room for her brother. Saw not a trace of him.
“Sure you’re all right?”
“Of course.” Her head pounded, her eyes burned. What had happened in that corner? Surely she’d imagined… She shut down that line of thought. No way was she ready to discuss it. “A little dizzy. You?”
“Getting a headache from all the smoke. I’ve been back here where it’s not so loud, talking to people. Not as much smoke here either.”
“Find out anything?”
“Nothing good. You?”
No, and that was the problem. She wanted out of here in the worst way, but she hadn’t been able to feel anyone out about Sam or the girl. Gonzales had only asked her to scope the place out, but she wanted to impress him with something big, at least some solid intel. “Not yet.”
“I met a couple of girls, but I haven’t turned up anything yet. Then I saw you hauling ass for the door.” He frowned. “It’s not an easy place to make contacts. People aren’t here to talk.”
She had to grin at that. “No kidding.”
“I think we have to become regulars. I mean, look at them. Who’s going to admit in the light of day they’re behaving like this?”
She took a deep breath and scanned the dance floor. She couldn’t let him know how badly she wanted out of here. “Good point.” She tamped down her sense of urgency. “Let’s give it another half-hour. I’ll stay on the outskirts and see if I have better luck.”
“You got it.”
Cardozo would laugh his ass off if he knew how tempted she was to stick like glue to Halliday. The captain would figure his misgivings had been confirmed.
So instead, she’d circle and see if she could spot Jimmy while trying once more to make connections.
And maybe she’d check out that corner again.
A shudder rippled down her spine.
But maybe not just yet.
Gabriel answered the door in his underwear, hair sticking up, drowsy eyes coming to life at the sight of her. A long, slow whistle emerged from his lips. “Damn.”
He looked so good to her. She’d managed to stay an extra hour, but she had little to show for her night, and she was still cold inside. The mere thought of those masked eyes, those hands… Once again she felt the puckering of her nipples, the aching fullness of her breasts, the dampness between her thighs…
Heat flashed through her body. She shook her head. She’d never felt so out of her depth before, and she didn’t like it. Slipping through the door, she fastened her lips on his, practically eating him alive. Her hands all over him, nails scratching at his skin, she craved oblivion.
Gabriel reacted with speed, taking the kiss deeper, wrapping strong arms around her and squeezing her to his chest. In seconds they were both groaning, straining together in a furious battle, combatants too close to maneuver with any skill, just heat and fury and madness.
Jace rubbed against him, struggling to pull her arms down, to get her skirt up, out of their way. Gabriel pushed her back gently. “Whoa, wait a minute. Let me see this outfit before I rip it off.” He grinned, but Jace couldn’t grin back. “Hey, are you all right?”
No, she wanted to say, but that wasn’t their deal. They didn’t do emotions. She forced a laugh. “Of course. I just—I just want you.”
“Damn, Jace.” He whistled again. “Don’t lose this outfit, whatever you do. I’ll try not to tear anything, but I don’t mind telling you, it won’t be easy.”
She should play this light, twirl around, model for him. She stepped away to do just that.
Gabriel grabbed her and growled. “Where are you going?”
“I thought you wanted to look.”
He jerked her close, hands slipping beneath her skirt, dropping to his knees before her. “I looked. Now I want to touch.” Groaning aloud as he lifted the red leather higher, he glanced up at her, eyes so hot she thought she’d melt. “Oh hell, a garter belt, too? You’re killing me.”
With a swiftness that stole her breath, one thumb yanked aside the crotch of her panties and his tongue delved inside her cleft. Stunned by the rush of heat that rose up to devour her, Jace cried out, coming violently, her mind going white.
And while her body rippled with the shocks of Gabriel’s hot mouth—
The dark man watched her.
Jace squeezed her eyes tighter, grabbed onto Gabriel with more force.
He drew back with a grin. “There’s more where that—” His triumph vanished. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head violently side to side to dislodge the image that wouldn’t go away. The hands on her body…the eyes that held her fast… Oh, God, had somebody given her something and she hadn’t known? But she didn’t drink anything there, so how could—
She shuddered. Fingers gripping his hair, Jace sought Gabriel’s mouth, tasting herself on his lips. With hands desperate for his touch to erase the other, Jace slid her fingers inside the waistband of his briefs, closing around him. “I want you inside me. Now.”
“Whoa. Slow down, babe.” He pulled back, his lips glistening with moisture from hers. “The night’s not over.”
“Now, Gabriel.” She writhed against him, sliding her hand further, cupping the flesh already tight and heavy with need. “Please.” Urgently, she stroked him, wanting him to stop asking questions. “Make me forget.”
He stared at her for a long moment before he seemed to make up his mind. “All right.” His familiar voice soothed her.
Her fingernails scratched lightly against his muscles, beseeching.
“Sh-h-h…it’s okay, Jace,” he murmured, scooping her up in his arms and heading for his bed. “Don’t worry, babe. It’s okay now.”
But it wasn’t until he’d ripped her over a second edge, then thrust deep inside her, that she began to relax.