Which meant finding another way in.
I leapt skyward again, flying for a bit before swooping down the side of the building. A third-floor window was open, so I circled around and landed on the sill. From inside came the sound of a bed squeaking and the grunts of a man. The smell of sex and sweat was so heavily ingrained that even in this form I could smell it.
I ignored it, hopped from the sill to the floor, then looked around for security. There didn’t appear to be anything here—no cameras, and no monitoring devices of any kind that I could see, except for a discreetly placed button wired to the end of the bed. To be used if customers got nasty, no doubt.
The couple were in the lone bed. The man was obese and sweating heavily, the woman slender and dark skinned. She was chewing gum in time to the man’s movements.
I shook my head. I could never really understand the human necessity to pay for sex—mainly because I couldn’t understand what joy there was in only one partner having a good time.
But then, I was a werewolf, and sex was something to rejoice and celebrate. Maybe you needed to be human to understand the concept of paying for sex.
Unfortunately, the door was closed. I padded across the threadbare carpet to check it out anyway, but in seagull form, I was never going to open it. I swore internally, then moved under the only other bit of furniture in the room—a somewhat bedraggled-looking chaise longue.
Thankfully, the sex didn’t last all that long. The man came, the woman looked at her watch, then hit him lightly on the back. “Time’s up.”
Her voice was gravelly and uneven. I wondered if it was natural or caused by too many cigarettes. The man grunted and climbed off her, his body wobbling in all the wrong places. He threw the condom in the trash, then dressed and walked out of the room—and slammed the door shut behind him.
The woman reached for a packet of cigarettes on the scrappy-looking dressing table beside the bed, popped one out, then lit up. She sucked in a deep breath and blew out several rings, then turned her head and looked straight in my direction.
“Who the fuck are you, then?”
Chapter 5
I hesitated for a heartbeat, then strolled out. She might have spotted me, but she hadn’t yet started screaming for help. That was something, I guess.
I didn’t change shape immediately, though. There was always an off chance she just liked talking to seagulls, so I pecked at something disgusting on the carpet and tried to act birdlike.
“I like the attempt,” she said, casually drawing on the cigarette again, “but I’m sensitive to weres and shifters, and I felt you out on the sill. Shift shape and talk to me, or I’ll scream for help. And I’m figuring you don’t want that if you’re sneaking in through windows.”
Given little other choice, I shifted shape, then sat on the chaise longue. My T-shirt hadn’t fared much better than the other shirt, forcing me to tie the ends together to stop my breasts from falling out.
“What are you?” she asked, her gaze sweeping me critically. “You can obviously take on bird form, but you feel like a wolf.”
“That’s because I am.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Lucky. So, why are you here?”
“That depends on how fast you want to run downstairs and report my presence to the guard.”
“Ah. Well.” She sat up and swung her legs around. She was naked, but as uncaring as a wolf. Which was unusual for someone who smelled human, but I guess in her line of business, you’d lose your modesty early. “I earn fifty bucks for twenty minutes in this dump. Pay me that, and my lips are sealed.”
I heard nothing but truth in her words and her mind. So I reached into my pocket, retrieved my wallet, and pulled out fifty bucks. But I flipped the note away as she reached for it. “I want honest answers. And I can tell truth from lies.”
“Deal. Though I may not know what you want.”
“Fair enough.” I let her have the cash. “What can you tell me about apartment 404?”
She raised a well-plucked eyebrow. “Only that it’s off limits for us ladies.”
“But that hasn’t stopped you from being curious, has it?”
She smiled. “No.” She paused to take a drag on her cigarette. “There’s two men who head up there regularly. One is a werewolf, the other is a shifter of some kind. A bird, I think, from his scent.”
“Can you give me descriptions?”
She shrugged. “They’re men. Leaner and fitter than the bozos I service, but still men. The wolf has brown hair and brown eyes, the other is a blondie with green eyes.”
“And how do they walk?”
She smiled. “Like men you wouldn’t want to tangle with. Are you a cop?”
“Guardian.”
“Meaning things just might get interesting around here.”
“That depends on what, exactly, is in that room.”
“Well, I can tell you they walk upstairs with nothing and come back down with notes. And a phone rings up there a lot.”“You’ve never heard voices up there, or seen anyone else enter the room?”
“Nope. And the rest of the rooms are storage, from what I’ve heard.”
“What about security?”
“Camera on the stairs going up. Probably an electronic lock, too, because I’ve heard the beeps. Other than that, I can’t say.”
I was betting the camera was an infrared. Given all the technology on the roof, it would be pretty pointless putting anything else in.
“Who watches the camera? The guard in the hall?”
“I doubt it. Frankie is asleep more often than not.”
I raised an eyebrow, amusement playing around my lips. “So he’s a visual deterrent more than a physical one?”
“Basically. Although I wouldn’t want to get him annoyed—he’s got muscles on his muscles.”
Which didn’t mean a thing if you didn’t know how to use them. “There’s no other security anywhere?”
“Not that I’ve seen, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t.”
“What about backup systems?”
“Other than Frankie, I don’t think there are any.” She shrugged. “The power grid is pretty stable here, so I don’t suppose they think it’s necessary.”
And that at least gave us a way in. “What about the owner?”
“T.J.? He only comes here once a week to pay wages. Vonnie handles the day-to-day stuff.”
“She got a last name?”
“None of us have last names,” she drawled. “Not unless you pay more.”
Not a chance when we could search through the business registrars. “Do you know if the windows upstairs are locked?”
She shook her head. “But half the catches in this dump don’t work, so I wouldn’t be surprised if the same applies upstairs.” She contemplated me for a minute, then added, “The windows are too heavy for your bird form, and the sill would be a hell of a balancing act for your human one.”
“That’s never stopped me before.”
“Heard that about you lot.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m expected downstairs in ten minutes for my next customer. Unless you’ve got any more questions, I need to get cleaned up.”
I rose. “What time do those men usually come to check the upstairs room?”
“They’re due this afternoon. They usually get here about two.” She smiled. “For another fifty bucks, I’ll leave the window and the door open in case you need it.”
“You’re a shark in disguise,” I said, nevertheless getting my wallet back out.
“A girl has to live,” she drawled.
I guess she did. And while the conditions here weren’t top notch, at least there was security, and she wasn’t on the street. That had to be a good thing.
“I’ll try not to disturb you when I come back in.”
She snorted. “Did I look as if I’d mind being disturbed?”
I grinned. “Thanks for your help.”
“Cass,” she said. “My name is Cass.”
“Thanks, Cass.”
She nodded, then opened the dresser drawer, grabbing a little tin and tucking the cash inside. I shifted shape and in seagull form flew out the window, circling the building and checking out the different top-floor windows before heading for the side street. I changed shape, adjusted my clothes, then walked back to my car. But I didn’t get in, grabbing my cell phone out of my pocket instead. I pressed Quinn’s number and waited impatiently for him to answer.
“Well, hello,” he drawled, the gentle Irish lilt in his voice sounding oh-so sexy. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.”
“I’ve been visiting a brothel,” I said, imagining his expression and smiling at the image.
“And I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason for it,” he said, “even though I can’t really think of one.”
“It had a phone.”
“Most of them do.”
I laughed. “This phone is the contact number for a bunch of hit men for hire.”
“Interesting.” His voice was dry. “So why are you calling me?”
“Because I need food and sex, and not necessarily in that order. I figured you might be interested in sating one or both of those desires.”
“You figured right. Where would you like said sating to occur?”
“Somewhere not too fancy. I need to be back at the brothel by one-thirty, so I haven’t got time to go home and change. And several shape-shifts has shredded the last spare T-shirt I have in the car.”