Deadly Desire (Riley Jenson Guardian #7)(32)

The show room was smaller than the main room, and it had no tables. Just a large stage surrounded by seats, all of which were empty.“Shows don't start until ten,” Matthew said, obviously noting my surprise. “We don't start getting the main crowd in here until at least nine, so it's not worth the expense of opening this room until then.”
“Do the dancers here make much money?” I didn't really care, but it seemed the sort of question someone like CC would ask.
“Plenty. A lot of men prefer the titillation factor of flesh glimpsed under clothing over full-view flesh, and they are prepared to pay big to get it.”
He led me into another hallway, this one larger than the one off the foyer. Half a dozen doors led off it and each one was labeled—schoolroom, Arabian nights, boardroom, and so on.
“The fantasy rooms, obviously,” Matthew said. “These are all prebooked, so if a customer wants a private dance, he has to go up to the bookings office to get the room and dancer of his choice.”
“Are matching costumes expected?”
“Yeah, but you can buy them in-house if you haven't got anything appropriate with you. It's only a basic materials charge.”
“Then I'll be expected to get them for tonight?”
“If you dance as well as your résumé boasts, then there's going to be a demand, so yes.” He opened a door marked Staff Only, ushered me through, then began pointing to the various doors leading off the small foyer area. “Back here you have a staff lounge, locker room, and bathroom. The door to your left goes through to another office area and the costumes department. Perhaps you'd better go see them first. When you're ready, walk up to the main room and ask for Candy. She'll run through the rest of the rules for you.”
“Thanks for the tour,” I said.
He nodded, but before he could turn and leave, someone behind us said, “Matthew, why has the schoolroom been cleared of any bookings for tonight and tomorrow night? Is there a problem with it?”
The woman's voice was sharp, almost angry, and for a moment I froze. Not because I feared the sudden rise of tension in the room, but because the voice was all too familiar. This was the woman who'd spoken at the warehouse—the crow who controlled both the zombies and the hellhounds.
Matthew turned around and I followed suit, knowing I had little other choice. If I walked away, it might look odd. But her seeing through the disguise and recognizing me was a distinct danger. She'd have seen me in the old factory when her creature was chasing Joe, and even if crows had bad eyesight at night, Liander hadn't changed my looks that much.
Still, I'd trusted his work in the past and it had never led me astray, so I carefully set my features into a look of cool curiosity.
The woman who'd appeared was small, almost fragile looking, with a shock of black hair and yellow eyes that looked oddly inhuman. Her cheeks were sharp, her nose long and angular, and her mouth thin. Not a woman who smiled much, I thought. 
And she was in a wheelchair. Just like the woman who'd confronted Mike.
We had yet another connection.
“There's no problem, Ms. Hardt,” Matthew answered. “Hanna told me not to book the room at all. Apparently a special has been requested, but she's not entirely sure what night.”
Jessica Hardt—the other owner of Meinhardt's—grunted softly, and something flashed through her eyes. Something that resembled frustration and anger combined. “She didn't mention it to me.” Her gaze slipped to me, and she frowned suddenly. “Who are you?”
“CC Buttons, ma'am,” I said, suddenly glad I had the modulators. She'd heard my voice in the factory and would have recognized the sound of it.
“She's on trial for tonight,” Matthew explained. “Amber's called in sick, and Freddie's been given a week off work, at least.”
Jessica continued to frown, her sharp gaze racking the length of me. Her fingers tapped against the arm of the chair, the movements as brusque as her voice. “Do we know each other? Because you look familiar.”
“I've only just arrived down in Melbourne, but I have worked other clubs interstate. Perhaps you've seen me onstage sometime?”
“I doubt it.” Her gaze went back to Matthew. “Open the schoolroom up for bookings. I'll go talk to Hanna.”
And with that, she rolled away. I let go of the breath I'd been holding, and glanced at Matthew. “What's a special?”
Matthew grimaced. “Usually some dirty old vampire who likes to get his rocks off by watching younger girls simulate sex. They pay big money for the privilege, so Hanna tends to allow it. Jessica doesn't like it, though.”
Which made me wonder what else Jessica didn't like. Because there was a tightness about her that suggested a woman very unhappy with something. “How young we talking about?”
“Eighteen. We can't legally allow anyone younger than that, but the girls who do the specials are usually our less experienced dancers.”
And I was betting they weren't dancers at all, let alone eighteen. Martin Shore's girlfriend had said he'd met his last lovers here, and that one of them was nowhere near legal age.
I nodded, then asked, “While I think of it, do you have a stripper named Vicki Keely working here?”
He frowned. “I don't think so. Why?”
I shrugged. “My old boss asked me to say hi if I ever ran into her, that's all.”
“Sorry, I don't think she's ever been here. Not that I can remember, anyway.”
I reached out mentally, pushing past the nanowire to scan his thoughts. I could see no lie. Which didn't mean Vicki hadn't been here, just that he didn't know about it.
He walked away. I stood there for a moment, drawing in the air, sorting through the various scents for any hint of the magic that had been in the warehouse or the homes of the murdered vampires. Perfume rode the air, almost masking the heavier scent of humans. Someone was having a shower in the bathroom, and in the lounge people talked softly, though it might have been the TV given it was two male voices I could hear.
There was no familiar scent and nothing seemed out of the ordinary or suspicious. Not to my novice-stripper eyes, anyway.
I glanced around the room again, and saw the discreetly placed cameras in the corners. I was being watched, which meant standing here doing nothing wasn't such a good idea. I turned and headed for the costume department. Time to get down to work.ancing might have seemed like fun when I was practicing the art with Ben's Amazonian friend, but after eight long hours of dancing in heels and smiling so hard it felt like my face would crack, I was bone tired and ready for sleep.
I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed for the back exit. The bouncer stationed there gave me a cheery smile as he opened the door. “Will you be all right out there at this hour? Or would you like someone to walk you to your car?”
“I'll be fine, thanks.”
He nodded and stepped aside as I walked through. “Be careful, then.”
I smiled and walked into the night. Naturally enough, it was raining and I didn't have a coat. I did have a woolly hat, and I shoved that on, tucking my hair underneath it and pulling it down over my ears. I did likewise to the sleeves of my baggy sweatshirt, although the material was pretty flimsy with age, and not exactly warm. Shivering, I crossed my arms and headed toward King Street in the hope of finding a taxi near one of the nightclubs. If not, I could always head back down to Spenser Street and catch a bus, because the trains didn't actually run at this hour.
When I was out of earshot of the club, I pressed the button in my ear and said, “What a fucking miserable way to end a shift. Tell Jack thanks for not giving me a car on this one.”
“Your character is not the type to own a car, Riley, and the Directorate cannot control the weather,” Jack said dryly. “How'd things go in there?”
“Tryout went well, I earned lots of money, and they've asked me back on a permanent basis.”
“Excellent. Did you learn anything?”
“We've hit the jackpot. One of the owners is the crow who's controlling the zombies, and the other smells the same as the magic I've sensed in our victims' houses.”
“So we have a tag team of killers?”
“Most likely. I also found out that one of the owners runs ‘specials’ for certain vampire customers.” I explained what apparently happened, then added, “I linked with most of the women working here tonight, and none of them have ever worked a special. To me it suggests that Hanna Mein is bringing in inexperienced teenagers to work the specials and somehow hook up with the vamps. Shore's girlfriend said he liked them young.”
“Armel didn't mind it, either,” Jack murmured. “Although I can't understand why they'd be killing the girls afterward. With the sort of money they apparently earned, they're not likely to say anything to anyone.”
“But a dead seducer definitely tells no tales.” And if Hanna and Jessica were behind the vamp murders, then they certainly couldn't risk even the slightest whisper getting out. It'd definitely kill the stripper business, not to mention them. The Directorate wouldn't be the only ones hunting these killers. Kye certainly was, and I suspected the vampire council would be, too. 
Jack grunted. “Anything else?”
“Yeah. Most of the managerial staff is wearing nanowires, and there's psychic deadeners in every room.”
“The deadeners are probably used to stop vamp customers ‘leaning’ on dancers or staff to get that little bit extra,” Jack said, a trace of amusement in his voice. Which suggested to me he'd done more than his fair share of “leaning” over his lifetime. “The fact they've got so many wires in one place is interesting, though. We've been making sure they're in short supply on the market at the moment, and the price is sky high.”