I was in pain from the beating, depressed by the exorcism, worried about Dominic, and angry about being tossed off Tommy Brewster’s case. It wasn’t a good combination of emotions, and it left me with a burning desire to do something.
What I decided to do might have been reckless, especially given the very unequivocal instructions I’d been given to keep my nose out of Brewster’s business, but I decided it was time to pay another visit to The Seven Deadlies. Shae and Tommy seemed to have become buddies—or at least accomplices. Perhaps I could “gently” persuade Shae to tell me what Tommy was up to.
The thought of giving Shae a hard time brought a smile to my face. The best part about it was that because she was an illegal demon herself, she wouldn’t be able to report me to the police if I got a little. . aggressive in my questioning. Adam had to play seminice with her, or his well of information might dry up. I was under no such restrictions.
I showed up at the club at nine, just when its doors were opening for the night. The same bouncer I’d haggled with last time was on duty. There was no question that he recognized me—I’m not one who blends into a crowd—but he also remembered that Shae had let me in last time. When I asked him to let Shae know I wanted to talk to her, he made a sotto voce call and then told me she’d be right down. I found a corner where I’d be out of the way and waited.
I wasn’t shocked when Shae’s definition of “right down” and mine differed significantly. I refrained from doing the pointed-stare-at-my-watch thing when she finally swept out of the Employees Only doorway.
Apparently, she favored the dramatic when it came to her wardrobe. Today, she wore a neon-orange silk tunic with frog closures and a mandarin collar over skinny black pants. I don’t know how, but somehow she’d found a pair of stiletto heels that exactly matched the color of the tunic. She should have looked ridiculous, but, of course, she didn’t.
Shae looked me over unabashedly, her gaze lingering on the bruises. I clenched my teeth, waiting for her to make a smart-ass comment about them, but she just smiled at me—the predatory shark smile I’d come to expect from her.
“What a pleasant surprise,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “This makes twice in one week. Perhaps we should make you a member.”
I suppressed a shudder at the thought. “Your doorman said you had a three-month wait list.”
“I’d be willing to make an exception for you.”
I’m sure we both knew that Hell would freeze over before I joined, but I played along with her anyway. Trying to reel in my prey. Or just trying to give myself time to change my mind and walk away.
I raised my eyebrows. “Why would you do that?” I had to resist the urge to shrink back when Shae reached out and hooked an elbow around my arm. “Because you provide boundless entertainment,” she said, trying to steer me toward the door into the heart of the club.
I dug in my heels. I didn’t want to go in there again, especially not on Shae’s arm. “Let’s cut the crap,” I said. “I have no interest is setting foot in your club again.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “You already have.” “You know what I mean. Is there somewhere quiet we can talk?”
She let go of my arm—thank God—and gazed at me curiously. I put on my blandest expression and hoped that I was getting better at hiding what I was feeling. Shae would have creeped me out even if I didn’t know she was an illegal demon. There was just something about her. Not evil, per se, but perhaps. . chaotic.
Whatever she read or didn’t read in my face, Shae seemed satisfied. She smiled at me once more and gestured to the Employees Only door.
“Come along,” she said, heading that way. “We can talk in my office.”
I wasn’t surprised the door was locked, but I was a bit surprised to see it was key-carded. The card reader was hidden in a particularly deep shadow, and I hadn’t noticed it before. I wondered if following Shae through that door was a monumentally stupid thing to do. My Taser was in my purse, but I’d learned through hard experience that it didn’t do me a whole lot of good in there.
I grabbed the door, which was heavy and solid, but didn’t immediately follow. Shae turned back and raised an eyebrow.
“Is there a problem?” she asked, and her smile told me she knew exactly what the problem was.
“I’m expecting a call from Adam,” I told her, which was actually true. “I was just wondering if you get cell phone reception in here. It looks kind of. . formidable.”
Yeah, okay, the “expected phone call” gambit was a cliché straight out of about three thousand suspense movies. Usually used to no avail, come to think of it. But it was the first thing that popped into my mind, and I didn’t have enough time to come up with something better.
Shae laughed, but at least she was kind enough not to berate me for my lack of originality.
“You’ll have no trouble getting a signal,” she assured me. “I use my cell in here all the time.”
It was time for me to make up my mind. Was I following Shae into the nether regions of her club, away from all possible witnesses, or would I play it safe, tell her we’d talk some other time, and get the hell out?
Playing it safe has never been one of my fortes, so of course I followed her.
I suppose I’d been expecting something mysteriouslooking based on the key card entry. What I found instead was a hallway that could have been plucked out of any modest-sized office building in the city. On my right, a janitor’s closet. On my left, a supply room. Just past that was Shae’s office. At the very end of the hall, there was an unmarked door with a card reader beside it.
“What’s in there?” I asked Shae as she pushed open her office door and gestured me inside.
“Just more offices,” Shae answered, but I don’t think she expected me to believe her.
What was behind that door was none of my business, I reminded myself. I was here to see what I could find out about Tommy Brewster, not poke my nose into the shadier sides of Shae’s business.
Shae’s office was as striking as Shae herself. The walls were painted black, and the floor was covered with black, industrial-style carpet. Her desk was gleaming black lacquer with silver accents, and her chair was black mesh with silver tubing. On each side of her desk was a shiny metal bookcase, filled with very boring-looking business titles, and the only adornment on the walls were some black and white photographs of cityscapes, each framed in silver.
I found the effect cold and forbidding. But then, it went well with its owner.
Shae gestured me into a guest chair, then took a seat behind her desk and leaned back, crossing her hands behind her head. Her eyes gleamed with interest and speculation as she watched me sit. Under the guise of checking my phone, I opened my purse and made sure I had a clear shot at the Taser. I also armed it and glanced at the battery indicator. It was ready to go, should I need it.
“So,” Shae said, apparently impatient with my dithering, “what can I do for you, Ms. Kingsley?”
I had any number of suggestions, but I didn’t think voicing them would be conducive to a productive discussion. “I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about Tommy Brewster. I hear he’s a frequent visitor to your club, and I gather that the two of you have some kind of a business relationship.”
Shae blinked at me for a moment, then laughed—a deep, rich laughter that I’m sure many men would find sexy as hell. I merely found it irritating. But then, I’m sure that’s what she intended.
“I see you put as much value in subtlety as I do,” Shae said when she could stop laughing.
I shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “Subtlety is highly overrated.”
She controlled her laughter, although amusement still tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I couldn’t agree more. So if we’re going to dispense with subtlety, let me ask you what the hell makes you think I’m going to answer any questions about Tommy?”