Awakened (29 page)

Almost midnight. She was supposed to meet the other girl, the thin one she’d sketched. Barrett looked around.

She wasn’t going to ask permission. She grabbed her bag and left.

The girl was nowhere in sight when she got outside. Barrett put the bag over her shoulder and started walking around. In ten minutes, she’d gone around the whole building. Since it seemed she’d been stood up, getting a better look at the outside and making a mental comparison with Nick’s thorough recon and surveillance was worthwhile. But she couldn’t stay out indefinitely.

She was almost at the front door again when the heavy sound of approaching footsteps crunching over gravel made Barrett whirl around. It was one of the bouncers.

“Joe—you scared me.”

“Sorry, Miss Barrett. I just wanted to make sure you were all right. We’ve had prowlers around this side of the club. The guy on the morning shift showed up early and I decided to come check on you.”

“I’m fine. I was just—” Barrett looked over her shoulder. There was no one there. But she couldn’t quite escape the feeling that someone, maybe the thin girl, was watching.

“Just, you know, sneaking out for a smoke,” she covered. “I take a few puffs and that’s it. I keep telling myself it counts as quitting. Which is crazy.”

“No, it isn’t. I do the same thing myself.”

She walked back inside with him.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE

An hour after the media circus was over and Club Red was
once again quiet, Vlad looked for Tamsin. She was not to be found in her usual haunts. He had covered most of the club in long strides, walking faster as his impatience increased. The dressing room, normally abuzz with the chatter and gossip of the dancers, was empty and quiet. Most had left for the night.

Vladimir pricked up his ears, hearing a faint moan echoing from somewhere. His sensitive nose smelled woman—his woman. Was Tamsin pleasuring herself again?

She was constantly hungering for sex, greedy for his company. The self-control exhibited by the much younger Jane was far more to his taste. In part, he silently admitted, because breaking Jane would be much more challenging.

Tamsin thought it was just another game, begged to be badly treated if it didn’t mess up her makeup. She couldn’t get enough of his careful cruelty and liked to urge him on. But she had ceased to interest him, outside of the fresh blood she was eager to provide.

He heard the moaning voice again. Slightly louder. He must be getting warm. A metaphor that was all wrong for a vampire—until Vladimir checked the thought as he turned the corner into one of the skyboxes and saw Tamsin standing inside by the plate glass window.

There was a crack in it near the corner. No wonder he had been able to hear her.

Her skirt was hiked up to her waist and her legs were apart. Her eyes were closed. Her head rolled back and forth against the wall behind her.

Between her legs kneeled a vampire, a stud who’d been hired as a backup dancer, his shirt tossed aside to reveal a heavily muscled back that tapered to his jeans-clad buttocks. Talking dirty—and, inevitably, giving the young fool pointers—Tamsin threw a leg over his shoulder and balanced on the other, none too steady. She sank her fingernails into his thick blond hair, forcing his head against her pussy. Excited, she dragged the heel of her stiletto up and down his spine, leaving welts.

The vamp didn’t seem to mind. He clutched her bare thighs as his blond head stayed firmly in place. Tamsin added tiny shrieks to her vocal repertoire as Vladimir listened and watched, aroused to some degree but furious with her.

He didn’t have long to wait.

She climaxed, noisily. Then she opened her eyes and looked down at her lover. “Nice,” she purred. Then she yawned. “But I’m done with you for now.” The young vamp hauled himself up from his kneeling position, about to demand a kiss, but she pushed his face away. Her eyes widened when she saw Vladimir. Who said nothing.

He strode to the other vampire and grabbed him by the hair, smashing his head repeatedly into the wall, leaving his rival slumped and bleeding. Not dead. They did need a male dancer and the blond man had the moves. Vladimir might let him live.

“Don’t—don’t kill him,” she pleaded. “Don’t hurt me.”

“It won’t hurt at all. Come here, Tamsin,” Vladimir said quietly.

The panel was quickly completed and left in his office for him to view, propped against the wall. The artist had done an excellent job. Tamsin seemed more lifelike than the others. But her frozen expression lacked the innocence of the younger girls. The difference would ruin the symmetry. Vladimir decided against installing the artwork. He dragged the thing across the carpet and shoved it into a closet.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR

The day after the media junket, Barrett had barely gotten
a few hours’ sleep before she was back at the club again. Setting up the work shifts for all the dancers—most of whom were headstrong to a fault and foulmouthed to boot—took Barrett and Sam until the evening. Throughout the day, she thought of Nick and how he’d confessed to struggling against his protectiveness of her. Knowing he was still protective of her felt safe. Knowing he cared enough to give her the free rein she needed made her feel loved. However, other than a quick text exchange between them that morning—one that had included a wry statement that he was still feeling his “punishment” from the night before—she didn’t hear from him.

She hadn’t had a second to snoop around the club again. Lunch had been delivered for her and Sam, along with a take-out vat of coffee and gooey cupcakes to sweeten up the girls. Hadn’t worked.

The last in line had arrived fashionably late and decided to negotiate her fee. She’d been a headliner at a major Atlanta club and knew what she was worth.

Barrett watched Jewell walk away, sashaying down the corridor in impossibly tight leggings and a shredded T-shirt that said Electrick Beetch on the front and back, an enormous designer handbag over her shoulder.

She turned to Sam. “Hope she doesn’t tell the others she’s getting paid more.”

“Girl, please. You and I both know that’s the first thing Jewell’s going to do.” Sam checked the chunky faux-diamond timepiece on her wrist. “It’s five minutes to catfight by my watch.”

Barrett cleared away the lipstick-smeared cups of take-out coffee, shoveling them all into a wastebasket and folding up the chairs.

“I never knew running a club was this much work,” she said impatiently.

“Hope those media people got what they came for,” Sam said. “Club Red is going to be the biggest place I ever worked in. But let me tell you, some things never change. The dancers are the most trouble. This new bunch better hustle the hell out of the customers once we open. We got goals to reach. Vlad is gonna track every penny we take in.”

“Who spends the most?” Barrett asked.

“The Triple M’s, honey.”

Barrett raised a quizzical eyebrow.

Sam spelled it out. “Middle-aged, married, and money to burn. I feel sorry for the wives. Most’a these bitches are out for what they can get.”

An argument was kicking up down the hall. Sam grinned. “Right on time. What did I tell you?”

Barrett groaned. She really, really wanted to leave. “Should we interfere?”

“Not unless you want your beautiful white hair pulled right out of your head and a few scratches on your face to go with it.”

Barrett rolled her eyes. “Nope.”

Sam took a compact out of her bag and fixed her makeup. “Vladimir won’t approve fat paychecks for the new hires just ’cause Jewell’s got a big mouth on her. The others will just have to shake it harder if they want to earn more.” She flipped a phenomenally long ponytail over her shoulder. “That’s what I used to do. Paid for my hair extensions back then.”

“And now?”

“Yolanda does ’em for free,” Sam said. “Hey, leave all that trash for the cleaning crew. Can we get out of here? I have a date. How about you?”

She thought of Nick. Thought of punishing him again, this time for making her crave him without even trying to. She quickly shook her head. “No.”

“Hmm. For a second there your eyes got misty.”

“Allergies. The club ventilation system couldn’t handle the atmosphere last night.”

“Really? I didn’t notice that. And I was on stage and you were out front.” Sam tossed the compact and lipstick back into her bag and swung it over her arm. “See you tomorrow if you don’t want to go just yet. But get some sleep if you’re sleeping alone. You look tired.”

“Yeah, I am. But it’s interesting work.” She was stalling just a little. Barrett preferred to leave by herself.

“Glad you think so. As far as I’m concerned, the thrill is
long
gone. Done this shit for too many years. Heard it all, seen even more.” Sam turned the knob and cautiously eased the door open again, peering up and down the corridor. The argument was getting louder.

“All clear,” she said to Barrett. “But I strongly suggest you leave now.”

Instantly persuaded, she gathered up her things.

“Okay. I really don’t want to be trapped in here with a bunch of pissed-off strippers.”

Barrett trotted out with Sam, laughing. They turned a corner just before a different door banged open and the clicking sound of high heels reached them.

They ran down the stairs as quietly as they could and went through the first-floor fire exit without setting off the alarm. Barrett walked Sam to the parking lot and said good night, turning just as Sam reached her car several spaces away.

Sam popped the trunk, throwing things around as she looked for something, muttering to herself. “Fucking heels are killin’ me. Now where’s those damn sneakers?”

“Hey, Sam.” The female voice was almost too low to hear. It was the thin girl. Barrett looked in her direction. The girl was under a tree at the outer perimeter of the Club Red property.

“Xecala, baby. You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, Sam. I wanted to talk to Barrett about something.”

Sam frowned. “Barrett, huh?” She looked at Barrett, her eyes assessing. “Xecala’s my friend. Like the daughter I’ll never have,” she said. “I don’t want her getting into trouble.”

Warning and implied threat noted, Barrett thought.

“I’m no threat to her,” Barrett said. “I don’t even know why she wants to talk to me.”

Sam nodded then said, “All the same … don’t make me sorry I’ve trusted you, Barrett.” With that, Sam got behind the wheel, roaring away with a manicured wave out the window.

Xecala shuffled over the grass to Barrett.

She seemed almost spectral. Her pale skin glowed faintly in the evening shadows and, once she’d gotten close enough, Barrett saw the violet shadows under her eyes.

“Sorry I bailed on you last night,” the girl said timidly. Her voice was weary.

“I came out and looked for you. Thanks for coming back.” She heard someone else coming before she saw the person. “Hang on a sec.”

It was another bouncer. “Hi, Lewis.”

He was a rangy guy, older than the one from last night, but still built. He could have been a middleweight boxer once, with a long reach that hadn’t been long enough to keep his nose from being broken a few times.

Lewis looked over her shoulder at the girl, who shrank back. “Xecala. You know you can’t come around here. We have our orders.”

“Miss Barrett wanted to see me.”

Miss Barrett
. The term sounded so polite and so southern that Barrett almost smiled. But the name certainly wasn’t southern. There was no telling where the sad girl came from.

“Mr. Ouspensky told our guys to keep an eye out for you, Xe. I don’t want no trouble. My boss will give me hell.”

“What’s the matter?” Barrett took a take-charge tone. “She’s not lying. I really did ask to see her.”

Might as well be honest. Lewis would probably scribble some kind of report for his boss, who might or might not send it to Vladimir. The bouncer didn’t look like the superconscientious type. Just mean in a petty way.

Lewis kept an eye on the girl, who didn’t seem particularly afraid of him, and drew Barrett aside.

“She’s a junkie.”

That explained the scrawny body under the loose clothes.

“Been in and out of rehab, but nothing ever worked. Tried to kill herself a couple of times, couldn’t manage that, either. She’s a bad influence,” Lewis finished up. “Mr. Ouspensky doesn’t want her near the other girls. Especially the new ones. Like I said, we got our orders.”

“I understand. But she’s not inside the club. And we’re just going to talk for a few minutes. I—ah—I know her sister. Her family wants her to come back. Look, here’s something for you.” She held up a fifty. “Your boss doesn’t even have to know.”

Lewis didn’t exactly hesitate. “I’m coming out again in five minutes. Talk fast.” He pocketed the bill and left them alone.

“Did you take that top piece of paper?” Barrett whispered urgently. The girl nodded. “Why?”

Xecala wavered. “I wanted to look at it more.”

“I gave you the drawings I did of you. That one wasn’t yours to take.”

“I know. But …”

“Xe, you have to tell me.”

The girl turned away, racked by a cough. Barrett was shocked by the way her shoulder blades protruded through the fabric of her dress. Xecala was wiping sweat from her face with her sleeve when she straightened and faced Barrett again.

“I kinda thought it might be—this girl I saw coming into the club.”

“You mean Jane?” Barrett breathed the question.

“Is that her name? Yeah. It was her. They brought her in at night.”

“When? Where is she now?” Barrett stared at the girl. She was heartbreakingly young to look so haggard. But she wasn’t the one Barrett had to help. “Do you want money or something? I have to know.”

“I need a fix, that’s all. Need it bad.”

Barrett swore under her breath. Handing out cash was one thing. Heroin was another. “I don’t have anything like that.”

The girl stepped back. “Not asking you for it. I hid some.” She turned and looked over her shoulder.

“In the tree?” Barrett was almost angry. The girl was drifting in more ways than one. She didn’t have time for this.