“Well,” she said crisply, “you can go to hell.”
He blinked. “For telling you to butt out of something that isn’t your business?”
“No. For being a jerk about it.”
Well, well. The tiger had claws, but as much as he’d like to see how far they extended, he had to go. “Go home, Vladlena. Be here tomorrow night at seven. A uniform will be waiting for you.”
She muttered a few mild obscenities under her breath, and he hid a smile as he stalked out of the office. Yep, she definitely had claws, and he couldn’t wait for her to use them on him.
Chapter 5
Lena’s heart had still been beating madly long after Nate left. Something about him both terrified and thrilled her, and crazily, she liked it. She’d spent so long being sheltered by her father and protected by those around her that getting out on her own was a hot rush. The fact that she’d succeeded in the first part of her goal—getting a job at Thirst—was even more of a rush.
It was the first job she’d ever gotten on her own. Granted, it wasn’t a job she was keeping, but at least her father hadn’t pulled strings to get her here.
She’d gone home and contacted Eidolon, letting him know she was safe. Then she’d gone to bed, for all the good that had done. She’d been restless, tossing and turning, and her mind kept going to Nate. She couldn’t get his spicy, masculine scent out of her nose. Couldn’t forget how his skin had felt under her fingers or how his lips had been so soft on hers. Couldn’t wipe his great-looking face and body out of her brain.
She also couldn’t rid herself of the nagging feeling that he was somehow involved in Vaughn’s death, and something told her that those tickets on his desk and the message on his phone were the key.
Now, as she finished donning form-fitting black scrubs with the word THIRST, the T fashioned to resemble a medical cross embroidered in red on the left shirt pocket, she was determined to do a little snooping.
Thirst was hopping, but so far, there were no injuries, so Lena explored, eyes peeled for . . . well, she didn’t know what, exactly, she was looking for. She chatted with the bouncers, wait staff, and bartenders, fishing carefully for information, but nothing they said raised any flags.
A broken wrist from a fall on the dance floor took her away from her investigation for an hour, and then she was back at it after spying Nate enter the club and make a beeline to the private section as if there was a fire. When he disappeared into his office, she followed, checking behind her to make sure no one saw her.
All clear. His door was closed, so she eased up to it and listened. Nothing. Not a sound came from inside. Taking in a deep, bracing breath, she tapped on the door and wondered what kind of excuse she’d come up with for disturbing him.
Fortunately, she didn’t need an excuse, because he didn’t answer. She took another calming breath, but it did nothing to still the nervous flutters in her belly as she tried the door handle.
Unlocked.
She slowly pushed it open. Inside, there was no sign of Nate, but where could he have gone? She’d seen him enter.
“Mr. Sabine?”
When no one answered, she closed the door and scrambled to search the office, starting with the file cabinets, which were locked. Same with the desk, dammit. She stood behind the desk, thinking. Her father had kept a similar office in his house, and it hadn’t been until he’d been killed that she’d discovered the dark secret he’d withheld.
She and Vaughn had stumbled across an opening in a wall behind a full-length mirror. The hidden passageway had led to a torture chamber that had verified all the rumors she’d heard about her father. It had been a nasty shock, and she wondered if any such passage she might find in this office would lead to as great a surprise.
She checked the most obvious places first—behind pictures, mirrors, the bookshelves. Nothing. She managed to knock over a bookend and stub her toe on a chair leg, though. A superspy she was not, and she prayed no one heard her impression of a bull in a china shop.
Just as she was about to give up, she moved to the massive wine rack behind the bar. She manipulated the bottles, being extra careful not to drop one. They were, no doubt, expensive.
When she wiggled a black bottle near the top of the rack, she felt the slightest give. Excited, she pushed on it, and half of the rack cracked open . . . only an inch, but she didn’t dare open it more until she knew what was behind it. She listened, prepared to nudge the door farther, but the sound of voices constricted her chest and cut off her breath.
Shit!
Heart pounding, she tugged the rack closed and scurried out of the office. Her muscles went watery and stopped working as she closed the door, and she allowed herself a moment to collapse against the wall and just breathe. Automatically, her fingers found her stethoscope. Touching it in times of stress was a strange habit, and one she needed to break. She just hadn’t found the willpower to buy one of her own, one that wouldn’t carry memories of her father.
Voices from behind the office door broke her out of her thoughts. Both male, one Nate’s. Unfortunately, she couldn’t hear specifics, but if the tones were any indication, he wasn’t happy. The other male sounded . . . amused. And something about his voice sent shivers up her spine.
The door jerked open, and she jumped, whirled, and came face to . . . chest . . . with a man—no, definitely demon—who stood at least seven feet tall and was twice as wide as she was. His movie-star good looks were negated by the evil he radiated; She felt it beneath her skin, like a million worms wriggling in her muscles. He looked down, his black eyes targeting her as if she were a steak and he was a hungry lion.
“What have we here?” His voice was both seductive and frightening, and the sense of things writhing under her skin increased. What species is he?
Suddenly, Nate was there, taking her arm and pulling her away. “She’s not for your pleasure, Fade.” His hand tightened on her arm almost possessively. “She’s an employee.”
The demon raised a tawny eyebrow. “Employees are definitely for my pleasure.”
“Not this one. We’re short on medics, and we can’t afford to lose another one.”
Tension crackled in the air between the two males, thickening with every second.
“I, um . . .” She licked her dry lips. “I should go.”
Nate turned to her, keeping his hand on her arm. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted to know how much authority I have to purchase supplies,” she lied.
He studied her for so long that she started sweating—and regretting not putting on an extra layer of deodorant. The stethoscope around her neck began to feel like a noose. Finally, he nodded.
“Purchase whatever you need. See Marsden about setting up a personal payment account.”
She offered a shaky smile, which fell when she saw Fade leering at her out of the corner of her eye. “Thank you. I’ll just . . . go now.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Fade purred, and her marrow froze. She’d encountered evil in her life—her father included. But this male . . . he made the others pale in comparison. And unlike inside Underworld General, Thirst had no spell preventing violence to protect her.
“Walk by yourself.” Nate’s voice was a portent for trouble. “I have business to discuss with her.” His fingers dug into her arm, a silent signal to agree with him. As if that was even a question. “In my office.”