I sneaked a look at Luke. He wore his gangbanger appearance well, so I almost didn’t know him. Underneath the soot and ratty white-gray fabric, it was still Luke. Wasn’t it? Like studying an optical illusion, I could look at him once and see Luke. I blinked, and the noble cop receded, replaced by the sooty criminal. The same image, different perspective, and my mind didn’t know what to make of it. His blank expression gave no clue as to whether he had noticed the girls in front of us, but I knew he had.
“Don’t,” I said.
His green eyes flicked to me. “Don’t what?”
I raised my eyebrow. He already knew. Don’t pull your cop routine to get these girls out of line. Don’t mess up our plan to assuage your goddamned integrity.
“They won’t let them in,” he said quietly. “Then they’ll look at ours more closely.”
“You don’t know that. Ella got in.”
A line appeared between his eyes, the only sign he was disturbed. “Look what happened to her. We can’t let them go in.”
“We’ll be inside too,” I pointed out. “We can help if there’s any trouble.”
“Us being there increases the odds for trouble,” he said drily. “Besides, it would blow our cover to help.”
“It would blow our cover to stop them from going in.”
We shuffled forward with the line, quiet for a moment as people resettled.
The girl with the striped stockings checked her phone. “My dad’s calling.”
“Don’t answer it,” the other whispered. “Text him. Tell him you’re at my house.”
I approved of Striped Stockings. The anxiety in her voice made it clear she didn’t want to be here. Her friend Blondie was the troublemaker.
“What if he calls there?” she persisted.
I mentally cheered. That’s right. Think of the consequences.
“Say you’re going to sleep now.”
From the side, I saw her bite her lip.
“It is pretty late. I’m usually asleep by now.”
It was barely ten o’clock. Luke didn’t have to look at me to make his point. See?
Okay, I did see. He couldn’t stand by and let them inside, knowing they might be targeted. And maybe that was beyond my capability too—damn Ella for messing with my sangfroid—but hell, I didn’t know how to make them leave. I sure as hell couldn’t make Ella do anything. We were nearing the entrance. The bouncers stood impassive, disinterested in the crowd, but any attempts to dissuade the girls would surely attract attention.
The group at the front slipped inside, and we all inched forward, a giant lumbering caterpillar with a multitude of feet.
I held my breath, hoping he would stay silent. Hoping he wouldn’t.
Luke cleared his throat.
A nervous sound of objection or surprise escaped me—Oh!
The bouncer in front looked over at me, bored at first, but his expression rapidly turning to one of interest. Sexual interest, hopefully, because if I had been identified before I even made it through the doors, I really had lost my touch. Like some sort of cartoon sketch, the bouncer pointed at me—directly at me, and I half expected a trapdoor to open in the concrete, sending me to a pit of crocodiles.
Instead the bouncer said, “Go ahead.”
“Me?” I managed to say.
“You in or out?”
“In.” I gestured to Luke. “He’s with me.”
The bouncer gave him a thorough once-over, which Luke returned coolly. The bouncer nodded a grudging approval. We started to slip past the girls, but the blonde one blocked our way.
“Hey, why do they get to go? We’re next in line.”
I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. Naive much, Blondie?
The bouncer’s face was like granite. “Wait here for your turn.”
“This is our turn,” she complained. “No fair.”
No fair? Oh Lord. Then I realized this would be an opportunity to get them booted from the club—maybe my only opportunity.
I drew myself up to full haughtiness. “Let me give you a little life advice. When someone insults you, it’s best not to draw attention to that.”
Two lipsticked mouths fell open, but the blonde recovered first. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Are you confused, sweetheart? I’m the girl getting bumped to the front of the line. You are the loser standing outside.”
Her face turned mottled red. She looked ready to blow.
“Is there a problem?” the bouncer asked.
She stammered. “I… She… Did you hear what she said?”
“Maybe we should just go,” Striped Stockings pleaded.
Blondie’s face twisted into a cross between a sneer and a pout. She was pretty and slender and probably used to getting her way—I should know.