As she opened the door, she straightened her shoulders with resolve. “How are you?”
“I’m fine.” Lusie glanced over her shoulder. “Did you know there’s a Bentley parked outside your door?”
Ehlena’s brows shot up and she leaned around the jamb. There was indeed a brand-new, super-shiny, spectacular Bentley parked in front of her shitty little rental, looking as out of place as a diamond on the hand of a bag lady.
The driver’s-side door opened and an incredibly beautiful, dark-skinned male rose from behind the wheel. “Ehlena?”
“Ah…yes.”
“I’m here to pick you up. I’m Trez.”
“I’ll…I need a minute.”
“Take your time.” His smile revealed fangs and she was reassured. She didn’t like being around humans. Didn’t trust them.
She ducked back inside and put her coat on. “Lusie…would you be able to continue coming here? It looks like I’ll be able to keep paying you.”
“Of course. I’d do anything for your father.” Lusie flushed. “I mean, both of you. Does this mean that you’ve found another job?”
“Money has loosened up a little bit more than I expected. And I hate his being here alone.”
“Well, I’ll take good care of him.”
Ehlena smiled and wanted to hug the woman. “You always do. As for tonight, I’m not sure how long I’ll be-”
“Take your time. He and I will be fine.”
On impulse, Ehlena gave the female a quick embrace. “Thank you. Thank…you.”
Grabbing her purse, she hit the door before she made a fool out of herself, and as she emerged into the cold, the driver came around to help her into the Bentley. Dressed in his black leather trench coat, he looked more like a hit man than a chauffeur, but when he smiled at her again, his dark eyes flashed an extraordinarily brilliant green.
“Don’t worry. I’ll get you there just fine.”
She believed him. “Where are we going?”
“Downtown. He’s waiting for you.”
Ehlena felt awkward as the door was opened for her, even though she knew it was courtly manners among equals on his part and not anything to do with serving her. She was just out of practice at being attended to by a male of worth.
Jesus, the Bentley smelled good.
While Trez went around and got in behind the wheel, she stroked the fine leather of the seat and couldn’t remember feeling anything so luxurious.
And as the car eased out of the alley and down onto the street, she barely felt the potholes that usually left her hanging on to the door handle in taxis. Smooth ride. Expensive ride.
Where were they going?
As a gentle, warm breeze suffused the backseat, that voice message from Rehv played over and over again in her head. Doubt flickered in her mind, like the brake lights of the cars in front of them, going off and on, slowing her everything’s-okay roll.
It got worse. Downtown was not a place she knew very well, and she tensed up as they passed the part where the luxury high-rises were. Where she had met Rehv at the Commodore.
Maybe he was taking her out dancing.
Yeah, because you did that without telling the female to wear a dress.
The farther they went down Trade Street, the more she stroked the seat beside her, although not for the feel of it. Things got seedier and seedier, the lineup of all-right restaurants and the offices of the Caldwell Courier Journal giving way to tattoo parlors and bars that looked as if they’d have grizzled drunks on stools and dirty bowls of peanuts at their counters. Then it was the clubs, the loud, flashy kind she never, ever went to because she didn’t like the noise, the lights, or the people in them.
As the black-on-black sign for ZeroSum came into view, she knew they were going to stop in front of it, and her heart dropped into her lower gut.
Strangely, she had the same reaction she’d had to seeing Stephan in the morgue: This can’t be right. This can’t be happening. This is not how things are supposed to be.
The Bentley didn’t pull up in front of the club, though, and for a moment hope flared.
But of course. They went into the alley on the far side, stopping at a private entrance.
“He owns this club,” she said in a dead voice. “Doesn’t he.”
Trez didn’t touch the question, but he didn’t have to. As he came around and opened the door for her, she sat frozen stiff in the back of the Bentley, staring at the brick building. Absently, she noted that there was grime dripping down its flank from the roof, and crud splashed up on it from the ground. Tarnished. Dirty.
She thought of standing at the foot of the Commodore and staring upward at all the sparkling-clean glass and chrome. That was the facade he had chosen to show her.