“Let me see your hands.”
Although Cole took half a step back, he wasn’t retreating. He just wanted some extra room in case things got interesting. He held both palms up and out so the doorman could have a look.
When Slick saw the scars on his palms, he took a full step back. “Where’s the other one?” he asked.
“Who should I say is asking?”
Just then, descending the back stairs as if she’d been waiting for the perfect moment to make her entrance, Stephanie announced, “His name’s Astin. Forgive him if he’s being rude, but he’s new in town.”
Stephanie wore a black dress with red polka dots that cut straight across the top of her breasts and was held up by a single strap that looped around her neck. The strap was the same red as the polka dots, which was the same color as the ribbon that went around the middle of the dress and the narrow strip of lace along the hem. Her shoes were shiny, black, high-heeled numbers that brought her up to within an inch or two of Cole’s height. She walked through the bar with her chin held high and her dark red hair pulled into ponytails that dangled on either side of her head. She eased her shoulders back as if to display her chest every bit as much as the thick black markings that snaked up along her neck. Thinner black tendrils ran through her arms, and only a few reached down to one ankle.
“Hello, Cole,” Stephanie said as she grinned and extended an arm to him. “Last time I saw you, you were swinging a piece of wood at me. Ahh,” she purred as she glanced over his shoulder. “I see you’ve still got wood. Must be my new heels.”
Cole glanced down at the hand she offered and said, “If you’re waiting for me to kiss that, you’re going to be standing there a long time.”
“Maybe you can kiss something else,” Stephanie snapped as she turned on the balls of her feet and then clacked across the hardwood floor. “I suppose you came here to see my Blood Parlor?”
“That and to have a word with you.” When he tried to follow her to the stairs, he was stopped once more by Astin’s thickly muscled yet tendril-free arm. “Do you know what she is, Astin?”
“She’s the one that pays my salary,” the doorman replied.
Hanging onto the railing of the staircase, Stephanie turned to show thin, curved fangs extending from her upper gum line just enough to scrape against her bottom lip. “I’m also the one that hands out freebies to my employees when they do good. You did real good, Astin. Let the nice Skinner through.”
Astin lowered his arm and took a step back. Judging by the way he ordered the others in the bar around with a few clipped words and some hasty pointing, he was more than just a doorman. Cole fell into step behind Stephanie and swore he could feel more eyes upon him than there were faces in the room.
The farther up the stairs she got, the bouncier Steph’s movements became. “I didn’t think you’d ever get here. We were all ready for you and that little partner of yours to show up on opening day and you never did. Don’t tell me you two are losing touch with this town.”
“Not at all. We just thought we’d give you a chance to get things rolling before we paid a visit.”
“That’s cute. If you or that little bitch—”
“Watch your mouth,” Cole snapped in the most convincing growl he’d done all night. “She’s my partner.”
Stephanie arrived at the top of the stairs, kept her fingertips on the banister, and did a slow turn to clear a path while coming around to face him. “Sorry,” she said with an unconvincing pout. “Maybe I’m just jealous that she gets to spend so much time with you.”
Cole stepped away from the stairs and positioned himself so his back was to a wall. “Yeah. I’m sure that’s it.”
At first the upper floor seemed bigger than the one downstairs. That was mostly because the lower level was sectioned off into the bar and other rooms used for storage or office space. The top of the stairs opened to a room that was about the size of the bar and stretched from one side of the building to the other. Several windows were built into the walls of what looked like a newer addition that extended the main room out over the sidewalk. A hallway stretched all the way down the length of the second floor, with doors to private rooms on either side. At the far end of the hall was what looked like another, narrower staircase.
Stephanie strutted through the room as if she expected an entourage to appear and kiss her feet. The burgundy carpeting was thick enough to silence every step. Two sofas and several chairs were set up at the front of the room, each padded in colors that were only slightly different from the carpet. Lace curtains hung over the windows and candles were set upon little tables that also held magazines and several binders.
“This is the waiting room,” she said as she bent down to rub her hand along the cushion of the nearest sofa. A well-dressed man in his late forties sat there watching her as if silently praying her hand would come his way. “Our customers make their selections, settle their bills, and get all revved up for their sessions out here. It’s all very civil.”
“Looks that way so far.”
Stephanie answered the waiting guy’s prayers by lowering herself onto his lap. Kicking out one leg and smiling without showing any fang, she said, “Doesn’t this whole place just make you want to curl up with someone?”
“Oh yeah, the decor is great. It does feel like it’s missing something, though.” Cole snapped his fingers and added, “Maybe a big pipe organ and some dude in a cape hanging from the ceiling! You’re not going to make this poor guy dress in some frilly shirt before he gets fed upon, are you?”
Stephanie hopped off her living prop’s lap and walked over to Cole. The man on the couch made the best of her sudden departure by gluing his eyes to her naked shoulders. When she got close enough, Stephanie took hold of Cole’s wrist and tried dragging him down the hall. Since she was obviously used to men following her like puppies, he held his ground.
Letting go as if Cole’s arm had turned into a decaying tentacle, she lowered her voice to a hissing whisper that could barely be heard over the soft piano music piped in through hidden speakers. “Look, this is a business. You want a tour? Fine. You want to talk? I guess that’s fine too. Just don’t come in here and try to drive off my customers.”
“You gotta admit,” Cole replied in a voice just as low as hers, “you do seem to be laying it on kinda thick in here.”
“Well, we can either hunt the way we’re supposed to hunt or play it up a bit to have them come to us. There are Nymar clubs in plenty of other places that do the same thing. Some are bondage dungeons, some are spas, some give customers a private booth where they can get bitten and feel someone drink from them. Since you came all the way down here to single us out, maybe you should try it for yourself.” With a smile that showed the lower quarter of her feeding fangs, she added, “I’d do you for free.”
“Why don’t we start with a tour?”
She wrapped her arm around his and led him down the hall. “Do you really think you need that stick?”
“Yes.”
“Then will you at least cut the smartass comments when we’re around my customers?”
“I suppose that’s fair.”
“These,” Stephanie announced in a normal tone of voice, “are the rooms where our customers have their experience.” The first three doors had red ribbons tied around the handles, so she passed them up. Upon reaching a door with a bare handle, she opened it and stepped inside. “As you can see, there’s nothing out of the ordinary.”
For the most part, she was right. It was a fairly plain bedroom that had been decorated as though large doses of lace and velvet were legal requirements to appease the Cook County fire inspectors. A full-sized bed in the middle of the room was covered with velvet blankets. A small table, chair, and nightstand were all trimmed in lace. The air, which smelled like incense mingling with the subtle remnants of pot smoke, made Cole think back to his college days.
The moment Stephanie sat upon the edge of the bed, he shut the door and scooped up a chair to wedge under the handle.
“Big mistake, bruiser,” she said. “There’s a camera in every room and any one of us could punch through that door.”
“And scare away the customers?”
As if to prove him right, there was a quick series of taps on the door instead of a Nymar fist exploding through it. He grinned at Stephanie, who shot him a tight-lipped scowl in return.
“There a problem?” someone asked from the hallway.
