Elemental Assassin 04 - Tangled Threads

touched was probably the last thing in the world that Roslyn had wanted then, especially since I was the reason she’d been beaten in the first place. But it had to be done to save her, and I’d made myself do it.
    The way that I had so many other cold, black, hard, ugly things over the years.
    “And how are you holding up?” I asked Xavier in a soft voice.
    The giant gave me a small smile, but it didn’t even come close to reaching his eyes. “Good days and bad days, right along with her.”
    I knew about those too, and I put my hand on his arm. Xavier nodded and looked away.
    After a moment, Xavier cleared his throat. He stepped back over to the club, lowered the red velvet rope, and gestured for me to go inside. I nodded my thanks and stepped through the door.
    It was like walking into another world. While the outside of Northern Aggression might have been bland and featureless, the inside was all rich, elegant decadence. Everything was meant to provide as much visual pleasure aspossible, from the bamboo floor, to the crushed red velvet drapes that covered the walls, to the elaborate Ice bar that hugged the dance floor. The men and women who made up the nightclub staff circulated through the crowd, bearing trays filled with chocolate-dipped strawberries, fresh oysters, and tall glasses of chilled champagne. They too wore as little as was legal, showing off their hard bodies and killer curves. Most of them were vampires, all of them were hookers, and every single one wore a necklace with the heart-and-arrow rune dangling from the end of the chain, letting clubgoers know that they were on the menu too.
    One waiter put down his tray, took the hand of a giggling woman, and led her toward the stairs that ran up the back wall. The second floor of Northern Aggression featured rooms that could be rented out for however long you wanted, for those who were a bit shy about fucking in the booths or underneath the tables that filled the back of the club.
    I skirted around the mass of people writhing on the dance floor to a rocking song by The Pretenders and headed deeper into the club, looking for Finn. After about three minutes, I spotted him sitting with Roslyn Phillips in a booth in the back. Finn was drinking a martini, while a glass of blood sat in front of Roslyn. It took me a minute to maneuver through the thick, gyrating crowd and slide into the opposite side of the booth from them.
    Finn’s green eyes took in my jeans, fleece jacket, and T-shirt. “Geez, Gin,” he drawled. “Couldn’t you put on something a little nicer? We are at a club, you know. The finest club in all of Ashland.”
    Unlike my casual attire, Finn sported a dapper suit in a smoke gray color with a silver dress shirt and a matching tie. His sharp clothes only made him look that much more handsome, as did his perfectly styled hair. Finnegan Lane didn’t believe in dressing down—ever. He would have happily worn a three-piece suit to bed, if only it wouldn’t have gotten in the way of his nightly seduction of whatever sweet young thing he was currently romancing.
    “Sorry,” I said. “Unlike you, I plan on getting my hands dirty before the night is through, along with my clothes. Unless you’d prefer to be the one who talks to Vinnie?”
    “Are you kidding? This is a Fiona Fine original suit.” Finn smoothed down his designer tie and shuddered at the thought of blood marring the slick, expensive fabric.
    Beside him, Roslyn let out a soft laugh at our bickering. I turned my attention to the vampire.
    It always struck me how very beautiful she was. Even in the semidarkness of the club, she was easily the most striking woman here. Her eyes and skin were a rich, toffee color, and her black feathered hair just brushed the edge of her strong jaw. Silver glasses perched on the end of her perfect nose, and she wore a fitted pantsuit in a mint green color that showed off her exceptional figure. Great breasts, flat stomach, toned legs. The vampire had a body that most women would kill for, and she knew how to make the very most of it.
    For years Roslyn had worked as a hooker on the mean Southtown streets before saving enough money to open up her own gin joint here at Northern Aggression. The madam had retired from hooking herself and was now strictly in management. She ran her own string of high-endcall girls and guys out of the club and made wads of cash doing it. Still, even though she was out of that part of the business, more than a few