"Yeah, loud and clear on that. But I don't need his financial data at this point, and I can't use anything you found by illegal means, so-"

"So don't use it. And if you're not as curious as I was, I 'll keep the information to myself."

He walked over, opened a wall panel, and got out the brandy. She lasted until he'd poured himself a snifter.

"d.a.m.n it. What did you find?"

"He's not officially listed as the owner of the club, but he owns it-such as it is. He's built several fronts, and is registered as its manager."

"Shady," she commented, "but not strictly illegal."

"He's also sunk quite a bit into the club-more, in my opinion, than makes good business sense on an underground establishment. I 'd say Idaho might be lacking in square miles, after all. His overhead's considerably more than his take, particularly considering his payroll."

"You hacked into his books for Bloodbath?"

"I t wasn't any trouble." He swirled, then sipped brandy. "Not much of a challenge. He's losing money on it, every week. Yet his personal finances don't reflect that. Instead there's a nice steady build. Nothing that would wave flags, which tells me he's very likely tucked away other accounts. I only sc.r.a.ped off a few layers on this run."

"What's his other income?" Eve wondered, and Roarke smiled.

"That's a question."

"I llegals are likely one chute. Bilking, blackmail, extortion. Once a grifter...He could've been milking Kent, but if it was just about money, why kill the really rich cow before she runs dry? I t's not just about money," she said before Roarke could. "That's a shiny side benefit."

"Agreed. And I 'm going to wager very shiny. I can take a hard look at Kent's finances, but I suspect she was the type who flung money about like confetti on New Year's Eve."

"Yeah, she had hundreds of shoes."

"I don't see the correlation, however," he continued as she rolled her eyes. "With enough time, I could find his hidey-holes, and jibe any unusual income with the same outlay from Kent's."

"Given enough time," Eve repeated. "Hours or days?"

"From the subjects in question, it could take a few days."

"c.r.a.p. Poking there won't hurt. But that's not what's going to get him."

"Again, we agree." He strolled over, sat on her desk. He liked it there, where he could look down into those whiskey-toned eyes. Those cop's eyes.

"I t may be weight, but it won't be your hammer. And as for the club, he's certainly got a second set of books on that, one that includes any exorbitant,and likely illegal membership fees, illegals transactions, and the like. Which I 'll find for you, in time, as well."

"You're really handy to have around." She tapped his knee with her finger. "And not just for the s.e.x."

"Darling, how sweet. I 'll say the same of you." He bent down to kiss her lightly-another reason he liked sitting in just that spot. "On Vadim, if he were smarter, he'd be keeping his income and outlay closer on his official records. But he's not as smart as he thinks he is."

"But you're smarter than even he thinks he is." She paused, thought that through. "I f you get me."

"Aren't we full of compliments tonight? I 'll have to bang you against the wall more often."

She laughed, then picked up her coffee. She drank it even though it had gone cold. "I 'll have the DNA match in the morning, maybe get lucky and get a blip of him on Kent's building's security. I 'm going to corner the bartender and break down her corroboration of his bulls.h.i.t alibi. I 'll have him in a cage by noon. Then we can take his finances and his records apart, piece by piece. You can add weight to my hammer."

Roarke angled his head. "Except? I can hear an 'except' in your voice."

"Except it's too easy. Roarke. I t's all too G.o.dd.a.m.n easy on his end. He gave up his blood without a blink, and with a smile."

"I particularly dislike his smile," Roarke commented.

"Yeah? With you on that. He has to know he left DNA at Kent's that can hang him, but he didn't demand I get a warrant. And the fact is, it might have taken me some fast talking to get one for it. He may not be as smart as he thinks, but he's not stupid either. He's not worried, and that worries me."

"So, he has an ace in the hole somewhere. You'll just have to trump it. Now, tell me, what else is it that worries you?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"You went somewhere else in your head once or twice when we were in the club. And you've been there again a time or two since. Where did you go that worries you?"

"I 've got a lot to push through, think through," she began.

"Eve." I t was all he said. All he needed to say.

"I saw my father. I stood there in that ugly place, and he came toward me. Toward me," she repeated. "Not us, not the group of us, but me."

"Yes. Yes, he did."

"Like a dream, in a way. The fog, the lights, the noise. I knew it was for effect, for show, but...I got a hook in me, I guess, and then I looked in his eyes. You said sociopath. You said killer. And yeah, I saw that. But I saw more than that. When I looked into him I saw whatever monster it was that lived in my father. I saw it staring out at me. And it...it sickens me. I t scares me."

Roarke reached down, took her hand. "Knowing monsters exist, as you and I do, Eve, may not always make for easy sleep, or even an easy heart.

But it arms us against them."

"I t was like he knew." She tightened her grip on his hand. There was no one else she could have told such things to. There had been a time when there'd been no one at all she could have told such things to. "I know it was my imagination, my own...demons, I guess you could say, but when he stared back into me, it was like he knew. Like he could see what was small and scared inside of me."

"You're wrong on that. What he saw was a woman who won't stand down."

"I hope so, because for a couple seconds I wanted to run. Just rabbit the h.e.l.l out of there." She let out a shaky breath. "There are all kinds of vampires, you said that, too. Isn't that what my father was? Trying to suck the life out of me, trying to make me into something less than human? I put a knife into him instead of a stake. Maybe that's why he keeps coming back in my head."

"I t's you who made you." He leaned down now, framed her face with his hands. "And what you are your father would never have understood. Neither would Vadim. No matter how he looks, he'll never really see you."

"He thinks he does."

"His mistake. Eve, do you want to talk to Mira about this?"

"No." She considered it another moment, then shook her head and repeated, "No, not now anyway. Dumping on you levels it out a little. T aking him down, all the way down-that'll take care of the rest."

For a moment she studied their joined hands, then shifted her gaze up to his. "I didn't want to tell you I 'd been scared, much less why. I guess that was stupid."

"I t was."

She scowled. "Aren't you supposed to say something like 'No, it wasn't. Blah, blah, support, stroke, let me get you some chocolate'?"

"You haven't read the marriage handbook, footnotes. I t's another woman who does that sort of thing. I believe I 'm allowed to be more blunt, then askif you'd like a quick s.h.a.g."

"s.h.a.g yourself," she said and made him laugh. "But thanks anyway."

"Offer's always on the table."

"Yeah, yeah, and the floor, in the closet, or on the front stairs. Time to work, ace, not to play."

She pushed up to study and circle her murder board, and he knew she was soothed and settled.

"Prior bad acts, and plenty of them. Mysterious income. Contact with the vic, and the profile fits him like a tailor-made suit. Bulls.h.i.t alibi. He's running a game in that club, skinning rich idiots with his vampire fantasy, maybe blackmailing them, selling illegals. But that's only part of the picture.

He's got something," she said in a mutter now. "He's got something, and he's feeling f.u.c.king smug about it."

"Heads up, Lieutenant," Roarke warned.

She glanced his way, caught the candy bar he tossed across the room. She grinned, tore the wrapper, and biting in, continued to study her board.

When Allesseria finished her shift, she was careful not to rush, careful to do everything just as she did every night. She closed down her tabs, keyed in her codes, pa.s.sed her station off to her replacement.

She stretched her back as she walked, casually, to the employee-only area where she stowed her bag and her jacket every shift. Even there, behind closed doors, she kept her expression neutral and her movements routine. Everyone knew there were cameras in every section of the club, the boss had made that clear.

You never knew who was watching.

Her yawn wasn't entirely feigned. I t had been a long shift, and a busy one as the crowds that patronized Bloodbath liked to stay thoroughly lubed. As she always did, she transferred her tips to her bag, zipped them into its inside pocket. After fitting the bag's strap across her body, she put her jacket over it.

She hung the illuminated cards, given to all employees, around her neck so that one glowed between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the other between her shoulder blades.

With the gleaming gold pentagram with its boldly red double B's in the center like a shield front and back, n.o.body would bother her on the way out of the club, on the nasty route through the tunnels. I t was something else Dorian had made clear from the get-go, and he'd made an example of a souped-up chemi-head who'd tried a move on one of the waitresses the first week the club opened.

Rumor was the guy had ended up in pieces, and there hadn't been enough blood left to so much as stain the ground.

I t was probably bulls.h.i.t. Probably. But it was enough to keep the path clear for anyone coming or going from Bloodbath who wore the sign.

Still, she checked her pocket, as she always did, for her ministunner and panic b.u.t.ton.

An ounce of prevention was worth a lot of peace of mind.

She headed out, and as was usual at shift changes, she left the club with a group of other employees. Safety in numbers. There wasn't much chatter, there rarely was, so she could huddle inside her own thoughts as they wound through the stink and the shadows, through the pounding music and wailing screams.

She'd thought she could handle it, the money was too good to pa.s.s up. With salary and tips, if she was frugal, she could move out of the city, plunk down a down payment on a nice little house.

A yard for her kid, a day job.

I t seemed like the perfect plan, and she knew how to take care of herself. But it was too much, she had to face that now. The club, the tunnels, the boss himself. I t was all too much, and she was going to have to go back to working street level, pulling doubles just to put a few extra aside every week. The house in Queens, the yard, the dog, would all just have to wait a few more years.

She'd walked out of Bloodbath for the last time.

She'd send in written notice, that's what she'd do, Allesseria decided as she finally came out to the sidewalk. She'd use her son as an excuse.

Dorian knew she had joint custody, but she could use the night work as too strenuous, too difficult.

Nothing he could do about it, she a.s.sured herself as she pulled off the glowing cards and stuffed them in her pocket. Nothing, that she could think of, that he'd want to do. At the salary he offered, he'd replace her in one crook of the finger.

Let somebody else mix pig's blood-G.o.d, she hoped it was just pig's blood-in gin to make b.l.o.o.d.y Martinis, or handle dry ice to make a Graveyard. She was done.

The cops had been the last straw. She couldn't take any more.

He'd made her lie for him, so there was a reason he needed the lie.As Allesseria went underground again, this time to catch the subway home, she admitted she'd lied before he'd asked. Something had warned her she'd be better off playing dumb.

Never seen that face before.

Tiara Kent, who'd knocked back a half-dozen Bloodies on her first visit to the club-and had spent a h.e.l.l of a lot of time up in Dorian's private office.

Okay, she hadn't seen them leave together, but in fact, she hadn't seen either of them leave when Tiara had come to the club. Which meant they might have slipped out through Dorian's office.

And Allesseria hadn't seen Dorian from sometime before midnight last shift. He hadn't come down to work the floor as she'd told the cop he had.

He hadn't worked the floor, not once that she'd noticed, after Tiara Kent had gone up those stairs with him.

And she always noticed him because of the way her skin started to crawl.

He could've killed Tiara Kent. He could've done it.

With her arms protectively crossed over her torso, Allesseria sat on the train, struggling with what she should do, could do. A dozen times she told herself just walking away was enough. I t wasn't her responsibility, and she'd be smarter to just mind her own business. Quitting was enough. More than enough.

But when she got off at her stop, she thought of her son, how she tried to teach him to do the right thing, to stand up for what he knew was right. T o be a good man one day.

So she pulled out the card the cop had left on the bar and her pocket 'link as she walked the dark street home.

Nerves p.r.i.c.kled at the base of her spine, crawled up to the back of her throat. Even though she told herself it was foolish, she shot anxious glances over her shoulder. Nothing to worry about now, nothing . She was blocks from the club, and back on street level. As far as Dorian knew she'd backed him up, 100 percent.

She was nearly home. She was safe.

Still, she stayed in the streetlights where she could as she recited Eve's office code. When she reached voice mail, she took a long breath.

"Lieutenant Dallas, this is Allesseria Carter, the bartender at Bloodbath."

She paused, looking over her shoulder again as those nerves dug in like claws. Had she heard something? Footsteps, a rustle in the breeze?

But she saw nothing but light and shadow, the black, blank windows in the buildings.

Still, she increased her pace, felt her knees tremble as she hurried. "I need to talk to you, um, talk to you about Tiara Kent. I f you could contact me as soon-"

He came out of nowhere, charging in like some dark and brutal wind. Shock had her sucking in air as she whirled around, as she stumbled back.

She managed one choked-off scream as his hand closed over her throat, squeezing out even that single panicked gulp. The black eyes stared into hers when her 'link went flying. As if she weighed nothing at all, he lifted her off the ground.

"You," he said in a quiet, almost pleasant tone, "made a very tragic mistake."

She kicked, her legs dancing and dangling like a hanging man's when he dragged her out of the circle of light from the street lamp. Red dots exploded in front of her eyes while her lungs screamed for air and her hand fumbled wildly for her panic b.u.t.ton.