“Have you ever had sex in a flashy red Ferrari?”
His smile dissolved into a look that was all heat, all desire. “No, but I'm willing to give anything a go once.”
“That's what I love about you.” I kissed him lightly then rose. “Ready to go?”
“With you, dear werewolf, always.”
I grinned, caught his hand, and led him outside.
kay, so sex in a Ferrari wasn't exactly comfortable, but man, uncomfortable could still be so much fun if you were with the right person. I was still grinning in delight as I headed over to the house of the woman who was going to teach me some of the finer techniques of being a club dancer.Which turned out to be a whole lot of fun, too. The woman Ben had recommended was a towering amazon with honey-colored skin and amazingly large breasts. And she sure could move her booty.
Over the next few hours she taught me that dancing naked well was harder than it seemed, but by the end she'd declared I'd pass general muster and get employed at any of the upmarket clubs.
Meaning, I gather, that the down-market ones employed anyone with breasts.
I thanked her and handed her a hundred for her time, after which she'd declared I was welcome back anytime for lessons.
Once back in the car, I rang Jack. “Hey boss, just had my dancing lesson, so I'm ready to go undercover if you need me to.”
“We will need it,” he said grimly. “Kade reckons there's something going on behind the scenes at the club. There's several areas that are overly protected by guards, who get rather nasty if the uninvited go near them.”
“I gather he tried.”
“Yeah. Got thrown out for his trouble. So you'll have to go in.”
“There's one problem. If the woman who was chasing Joe either owns or works at this joint, she might well recognize me.” I didn't think she'd gotten a good look at my human form—it had been pitch black in that warehouse, after all—but she was a sorcerer and a shapeshifter, and I had no idea how good a crow's sight was at night. We couldn't afford to take the risk.
“Which is why Liander's waiting for you at home. He's going to adjust your look.”
I groaned. “Boss, I really do like my ‘look’ as it is.”
“Too bad. After he's finished, get down to the club. As of yesterday, they're two strippers down. They advertised today for workers. You've got a six o'clock appointment.”
I glanced at my watch. It was nearing three now, so we were cutting things close. “Isn't it a little odd to be going in for an interview? I thought you just showed up, flaunted your stuff, and you were hired.” Or not.
“This place advertises themselves as a ‘classy’ men's club. They don't just have strippers, although that is their main business. Word is that any woman caught shooting up or prostituting herself on the premises is escorted straight to a police station.”
Meaning they couldn't do it while on duty, but could go home with clients? Because it seemed likely that all our vamp victims had met lovers there. “The cops wouldn't charge them, not on secondhand evidence.”
“They apparently hand over the security tapes, as well. There's been one incident there before, and the woman was fined.”
“I bet the club has been clean since.” Knowing the owners would follow through with the threat of legal action if anyone broke the rules would surely be warning enough to most. “And my profile?”
“Liander has it already. And Riley? Keep the tracker on this time.”
“Will do.” I hung up and headed home.
Liander was waiting for me, an array of bottles and other goodies laid out over the kitchen table. I'd barely walked in the door when he pointed an imperious finger in the direction of the bathroom. “Shower first.”
I frowned and sniffed. “I don't smell that bad.”
“You smell of sex, and sweat, which in itself is usually a lovely aroma, but I prefer to work with a clean subject. Besides, you need to erase your base scent, just in case anyone there is a werewolf that recognizes you. I put the soap in the shower holder.”
I started stripping as I walked across the room. “Where's Rhoan?”
“Gone back undercover. I don't expect him to surface for a couple of days.”
I stopped and looked at him. “So you'll be here alone?”
“I can cope with being alone,” he said dryly. “I did it for many, many years before I moved in here.”
“But—”
“I'm fine, Riley. Really.”
“So no more baby-sitting?”
“No. Although you can still pamper me any old time you please.”
“Ha,” I said. “If you're better, you become just a regular old member of the family. No pampering, and no one running after you.”
“Excellent. Now go shower.”
I did, taking longer than I should thanks to the fact that half a mountain of dirt seemed to be lodged under my toenails after last night's run.
“So, what sort of look are we going for this time?” I said when I finally sat down. One of the packets on the table was a voice modulator, and my cheek began to throb in pain at the mere thought of having it inserted.
“Brown with red and gold highlights,” he said, lifting my hair and running it through his fingers. Which I knew from experience meant he was going to cut it, too. “So we'll be able to keep some of your natural color—both up top and down below.”
Thank goodness for that. I mean, dyeing that hair was above and beyond the call of duty. “And it will wash out, won't it?”
I asked this question every single time he did this, and even though the answer was always the same, I still asked it. I liked my hair color, and I hated risking the dyes. Because one of these days, I just knew fate was going to stick me with something goddamn awful.
Liander gave a much-put-upon sort of sigh. “Of course it will, if only because you would be unbearable if it didn't, and I now have to share an apartment with you.”
I grinned. “Too right, makeup man. So, are we staying with gray eyes?”
“Nope. They'll be green. And your voice will be modulated down to raspy.”
“Raspy? Why that?”
“Because it sounds sexy in a semidark environment. Which the club is, apparently. Now shut up and let the master work.”
I snorted softly, but let him get to it, watching him work through the mirror he'd propped in front of me.
The result was surprisingly sexy. The chocolaty brown played against my own natural color, setting it off rather than clashing, and it contrasted nicely against the warm gold of my skin. The green eyes looked startling, and although I'd feared my hair being cut, all he did was give it some shape.
It was me, and yet not.
“Okay, modulator time,” he said, picking up the little plastic bag.
“Damn, I was hoping you'd forgotten about those.”
“Jack would have my hide if I did. Open wide, darling.”I did, and winced as he inserted the extremely thin plastic chips in either side of my mouth. The surface of the modulators were supposedly covered with an analgesic that deadened the skin as they went in, but it always felt like he was ripping out teeth rather than shoving in plastic. Although at least once they were positioned inside my cheeks, I couldn't actually feel them. I suppose I should be thankful for small mercies.
“Why do those stupid things always hurt going in?” I asked, only to be a little startled by the sound of my new voice. It was more husky than raspy, and had a deepness that suggested it was coming from the depths of my toes. Calling it sexy was something of an understatement.
“Why do you always complain about the same damn things when you already know the answer?” He handed me a folder, and the twinkle in his silvery eyes grew. “Meet your new identity.”
I opened the folder with some trepidation. The Directorate had come up with some pretty stupid cover names in the past. And, as it turned out, this was no different. “CC Buttons?” I looked up at him. “They are kidding, aren't they?”
He smiled. “CC is your stage name. Your actual cover name is Cecily Berg.”
“Well, at least that's a little better,” I grumbled, scanning my history quickly and memorizing it. Luckily, I had a pretty good recall for this sort of stuff. “These are actual clubs, I gather?”
“Yeah, but all but one have folded. And the owner of Lulu's is a good friend of Jack's, and owes him a favor. She'll rave appropriately about your performances.”
“It's a wonder they let me leave,” I said, reading through the more personal history. CC was an orphan and former street kid. How surprising. “You know, just once I'd love to have a nice family history for one of these jobs. I mean, it's not like there aren't strippers with happy lives and supporting families behind them.”
“Yeah, but it's easier to keep the background contained with an orphan.” He slapped my shoulder lightly. “Go get changed. Your interview clothes are on your bed.”
I grinned as I dropped the folder onto the table. “Am I going to like them?”
“Oh, I think you're going to love them,” he said, looking smug. “So scoot.”
I did. My outfit turned out to be a wickedly small black skirt, a hot red singlet top with the words “Werewolf Babe” emblazoned on the front, and matching red stilettos with a heel that reminded me of a glitter ball. There was no bra, but I guess the whole point of the outfit was to let it all hang out.
I dressed and strolled back out to the living room. “So, do you think I'll get the job?”