shade paler. “I’d lose my job if I let anyone into Veritas.”
“You’ll probably lose it if you don’t cooperate, we’re forced to close this place down, and your boss loses thousands in revenue.”
Hank scrubbed his hands down his face. “No one will know you let us in. We’ll keep it confidential. Lie if we have to.” He bumped me. “Right, Charlie?”
“Absolutely.”
She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment and then stood suddenly. With a grim set to her jaw, she flipped her long hair behind squared shoulders and turned off the computer monitor. “I never liked Veritas anyway. Follow me.”
The statuesque siren was only a few inches shy of six feet, way taller than I would’ve guessed. That annoyed me. Then I became annoyed at my annoyance. Why did I care how tall she was, or that she had the backside of a warrior goddess, or that her hair was gorgeous? I bet she ironed it. I bet it wasn’t naturally that glossy and straight.
I shook away the mental pettiness and tried to focus on the job at hand. Zara had nothing to do with me or the investigation. So far she seemed cooperative and smart. Not a bad choice in mates. Jealousy was something I rarely experienced and it wasn’t something I intended to feel for Hank’s future romance.
Zara led us to the rear of The Bath House and then up a flight of winding stairs hidden by vines and palms. The air became wetter and thicker as we ascended, making the scent of greenery stronger and my bare feet stick to the hardwood stairs with each step. The palms rustled and wings flapped as the birds sought heavier cover as we approached the landing.
Once there, Zara entered a key code to open a dark wooden door. I knew the minute the air hissed out that trouble had finally found us.
“To get out you hit the same code. One. Five. Seven. Seven.”
I nodded my thanks while recording the code into memory, then made nice and stepped into the dimly lit hallway, allowing them a moment alone.
Immediately, I was hit with the shock of air-conditioned air. Goose bumps sprouted on my bare arms and thighs. Wishing Hank would hurry, I rubbed the bumps and scanned the hall. Dark hardwood floors. Nice Oriental runner. Wrought iron sconces, which provided light on both sides of the hallway.
More than anything I wished I had my firearms. We trained twice a week in hand-to-hand combat to condition our physical strength, learn new moves, and constantly remind ourselves that sometimes we’d have to rely on brute force, but God I felt vulnerable without them.
This was just nosing around, though. It wasn’t like we were there to arrest anyone.
After a brief conversation, Hank joined me, letting the door close quietly behind us. The hair on the back of my neck stood as we progressed in barefoot silence down the elegant hallway, passing an antique gilded mirror hung over a hall table, oil paintings of fowl and hunting dogs, and tall Asian vases. The feeling of premonition was so great in me that I had to force myself to walk forward. My vision wavered a few times, making me blink hard and shake the cobwebs away.
“Zara said the club is not in session tonight,” Hank told me in a low voice. “Most members only come on meeting nights.”
“Most. Means we need to stay alert. Play innocent if anyone finds us. Say we found the staircase and were just pressing numbers and the door opened.” The strength in my legs continued to weaken. A small tremble began in my hands. I shook them, annoyed by the sudden onslaught.
“Sounds good to me. What’s wrong with your hand?”
“Nothing.” I opened and closed my fists. “Just pins and needles.” I was so cold.
We inched down the hallway, checking each door. The rooms held leather couches and chairs. A cigar room. Billiards. A small bath. A few bedrooms. Finally, we heard voices coming from one of the rooms at the end of the hall.
I lifted my hand to stop Hank, tiptoed to the door, and then pressed my ear to the cold, smooth
“You’ll probably lose it if you don’t cooperate, we’re forced to close this place down, and your boss loses thousands in revenue.”
Hank scrubbed his hands down his face. “No one will know you let us in. We’ll keep it confidential. Lie if we have to.” He bumped me. “Right, Charlie?”
“Absolutely.”
She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment and then stood suddenly. With a grim set to her jaw, she flipped her long hair behind squared shoulders and turned off the computer monitor. “I never liked Veritas anyway. Follow me.”
The statuesque siren was only a few inches shy of six feet, way taller than I would’ve guessed. That annoyed me. Then I became annoyed at my annoyance. Why did I care how tall she was, or that she had the backside of a warrior goddess, or that her hair was gorgeous? I bet she ironed it. I bet it wasn’t naturally that glossy and straight.
I shook away the mental pettiness and tried to focus on the job at hand. Zara had nothing to do with me or the investigation. So far she seemed cooperative and smart. Not a bad choice in mates. Jealousy was something I rarely experienced and it wasn’t something I intended to feel for Hank’s future romance.
Zara led us to the rear of The Bath House and then up a flight of winding stairs hidden by vines and palms. The air became wetter and thicker as we ascended, making the scent of greenery stronger and my bare feet stick to the hardwood stairs with each step. The palms rustled and wings flapped as the birds sought heavier cover as we approached the landing.
Once there, Zara entered a key code to open a dark wooden door. I knew the minute the air hissed out that trouble had finally found us.
“To get out you hit the same code. One. Five. Seven. Seven.”
I nodded my thanks while recording the code into memory, then made nice and stepped into the dimly lit hallway, allowing them a moment alone.
Immediately, I was hit with the shock of air-conditioned air. Goose bumps sprouted on my bare arms and thighs. Wishing Hank would hurry, I rubbed the bumps and scanned the hall. Dark hardwood floors. Nice Oriental runner. Wrought iron sconces, which provided light on both sides of the hallway.
More than anything I wished I had my firearms. We trained twice a week in hand-to-hand combat to condition our physical strength, learn new moves, and constantly remind ourselves that sometimes we’d have to rely on brute force, but God I felt vulnerable without them.
This was just nosing around, though. It wasn’t like we were there to arrest anyone.
After a brief conversation, Hank joined me, letting the door close quietly behind us. The hair on the back of my neck stood as we progressed in barefoot silence down the elegant hallway, passing an antique gilded mirror hung over a hall table, oil paintings of fowl and hunting dogs, and tall Asian vases. The feeling of premonition was so great in me that I had to force myself to walk forward. My vision wavered a few times, making me blink hard and shake the cobwebs away.
“Zara said the club is not in session tonight,” Hank told me in a low voice. “Most members only come on meeting nights.”
“Most. Means we need to stay alert. Play innocent if anyone finds us. Say we found the staircase and were just pressing numbers and the door opened.” The strength in my legs continued to weaken. A small tremble began in my hands. I shook them, annoyed by the sudden onslaught.
“Sounds good to me. What’s wrong with your hand?”
“Nothing.” I opened and closed my fists. “Just pins and needles.” I was so cold.
We inched down the hallway, checking each door. The rooms held leather couches and chairs. A cigar room. Billiards. A small bath. A few bedrooms. Finally, we heard voices coming from one of the rooms at the end of the hall.
I lifted my hand to stop Hank, tiptoed to the door, and then pressed my ear to the cold, smooth
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