She turned to look at him, and an odd expression passed over her face. He imagined her as she must have been when she was new to her beat. Younger, perhaps unsure of herself, she would have had to adopt an impassive emotional exterior to cope. Shifters across all species were pretty earthy creatures.
He found her warnings laughable. A man his size didn't need to do much to do to scare the shit out of people. However, he was on her turf, and he would respect that. Even though he was there to observe her performance and provide security should things get dicey, she knew more about interacting with the clients than he did.
"Anyway, I check the client licenses, verify identity and species, and check on their well-being. We'll make sure everyone is accounted for, including the house staff, the maids, and so on. Normally if someone hasn't shown up for work, we pass it on to security. Since you're evaluating me now, you and I will follow up on anyone who's unaccounted for."
Inside the club, a few patrons sat at the bar and cafe tables. Red velvet drapes decked the shuttered windows. The interior featured sectional sofas, reasonable reproductions of Art Nouveau furnishings. Photographs depicting classical themes in the style of the Old Masters were plastered to every wall surface of any size.
Diana checked in with the manager, who hustled all available workers into a velvet-draped parlor that looked a set from a wild west period film. The workers lined up for identity checks and cheek swabs. Every person involved in the sex industry had their DNA on file, including the workers, the brothel owners, the social workers, and security. As Diana interviewed the employees, he was surprised to note her easy-going manner and her ability to exchange playful, off-color banter with her clients. She was not in the least put off by the various states of undress and shift, which did not seem to jibe with her attitude toward him.
She wrapped up the visit and was again tapping at her Omni screen. Several of the half-dressed bar girls had gathered around him, plying him with club soda when he refused their offers of alcoholic drinks, citing the early hour and the fact he was on duty. Those not gathered around him glided by on platform shoes with a liquid grace that suggested supple limbs and limber hip joints.
When Diana stole a surreptitious glance at him, he stared her down and watched as she blushed to the tips of her ears. Diana straightened her shoulders and approached him as he stood in the cloying embrace of two fawning bar girls. One stroked his arm as Diana came closer, throwing the straight-laced social worker a knowing glance. This must be what Diana meant by hazing.
She barged into the cozy trio and said, "Everyone is here and healthy, except for Julie Wheeler. She's pretty reliable, and it's not like her to miss a shift."
Mac stood up and disengaged from the women fawning over him. "How many shifts has she missed?"
"Just one, but like I said, she doesn't miss work."
Mac led Diana away from the others and into a quiet corner.
"Maybe she left to work somewhere else," he suggested.
"I don't think so. I haven't found her registered with another establishment." Mac let this sink in as Diana went on. "I know her pretty well. She's been here since earlier in the year. I tried to reach her on her Omni, but she didn't answer. Mostly she works as a bar girl, but sometimes upstairs."
Upstairs, meaning in the brothel proper, not just in the bar where patrons hung out while inspecting and choosing their companions.
Mac gave this some thought. Underneath her brisk, professional exterior, Diana was concerned, her eyebrows drawn together with worry.
"We should do a wellness check," he said.
She nodded. "We will if she misses another shift. She's scheduled for Friday night."
Mac knew there was a fine line between protection and privacy when it came to working girls. They needed a cause to check on her--officially, anyway...
"Are you finished with your inspection?"
Diana looked distracted. "Hm? Yes, we're done here."
Still smarting from Diana's earlier verbal slap, Mac was eager to get on with his day. As far as he was concerned, the end of the inspection should be the end of their interaction for the day, and he had enough information about Diana's performance to file his first report. On the other hand, Diana was concerned about Julie Wheeler and seemed convinced the bar girl wouldn't miss a shift. He should talk to Diana about the missing woman--she might think of something useful if they talked it out more.
The possibility of Julie being in trouble made his irritation with Diana seem petty. He wanted to leave Woodland Creatures and let Diana take the Glide. He wanted to get behind the wheel of his truck, drive away, and forget he’d ever wanted her.
Chapter 10
Outside of Woodland Creatures, Diana and Mac looked at each other awkwardly.
"Let's grab something to eat," she said, watching his face register surprise. She nodded her head in the direction of a diner across the street.
The diner catered to the sex workers who plied their trade up and down Harry Hines Blvd. They gave their orders to the counter bot and found a table near the floor to ceiling window facing the street. Mac's large body crowded around the cafe table, and she kept her eyes on the sidewalk outside.
"So. What do I smell like?"
She looked at him cautiously, trying to gauge his emotional state. His brooding expression was one she had quickly come to know and interpret as neutral, not intimidating. In the strong daylight, his eyes were more hazel than she remembered, the hazel starburst near the pupil more prominent. There was a softness to his expression she hadn't seen before. Her hands, now placed in her lap, twitched with the desire to reach out to touch him.
She sighed. "You smell like burning wood. Hickory maybe?"
"Interesting. How long have you been able to do it?" He stared at her intently. When she tried to look away, his eyes followed hers. "What's the matter?"
Nothing, if you didn't count the fact that I want to sit in your lap. If I stay here any longer, I'll forget that I'm not supposed to like you...
"I just missed breakfast, and I'm hungry."
This prompted another smirk from him. "That's interesting, but I didn't ask you about whether you were hungry. I asked how long you've been able to smell shifters. It's not something any human I've ever met can do."
His voice cracked slightly at the word "human." Although discrimination was nominally against the law, shifter status was something many wanted to hide.
"I don't know. My whole life, I guess." She shrugged. And I learned how to hide it almost as long.
"Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."
"Really?" She eyed him warily. "What do you want in return for your silence?"
He rolled his eyes and said, sarcastically, "Nothing."
The server arrived with their food, a tuna melt for her, and a tofu burger for him. They reached for the ketchup at the same time, and their hands bumped, sending jolts of electricity up her arm.
"Sorry," she mumbled, feeling a blush prickle over her face, pulling her hand back. He had that intense expression in his eyes again.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, Diana willing herself to relax, annoyed that Mac appeared completely at ease.
"I don't know if you knew this, but Minotaurs are so rare that there isn't a reliable genetic test for the gene. Diagnosis is more of an art than a science."
She was shocked that he'd bring this up. She cleared her throat and set down her sandwich. "No, I didn't know that."
"My parents had no idea what was wrong with me when I suddenly started picking fights in school and roaming the neighborhood at all hours of the night."
His expression went impassive again. She cleared her throat.
"How old were you?" She let her eyes drift to the street, somehow wanting to give him emotional room as he told her about what had to be the most difficult time in his life.
"Twelve."
Her eyes went back to his face. He was looking down, leaning over his sandwich to take a bite. A lump rose in her throat at his
confession. She imagined this big, strong man as an uncertain adolescent, one day fully human, with all the privileges that went with a "pure" ancestry. The next...
"It took a while to get a diagnosis. They took me to psychiatrists, therapy groups. I was hospitalized and medicated. None of it helped. Then my parents went to a geneticist, who found some of the markers associated with my condition. But even that's not conclusive."
He had finished his sandwich and was making his way through a pile of French fries.
"No one in my father's family had any trace of the trait, but my mother was an orphan, so I must have gotten the gene from her. I grew eight inches over the summer."
What was it like to be so much bigger than everyone else? He was an intimidating, domineering man now, but as a twelve-year-old? That could not have been easy.
"What happened then?" she asked.
"My parents got a referral for a mentor."
She remembered then Mac had called Jacob his mentor. Jacob must also be a Minotaur.
"Jacob?" she asked, and he nodded.
She didn't know why he would tell her this, but the knowledge of his background was too much intimacy to have with someone she didn't plan to have a relationship with. It would be rational to keep this man at arm's length, but they continued to get more intimate.
"Why didn't you tell me that you knew I'm a shifter?"
Okay, so she wasn't expecting that. There was a way for humans to talk about shifters, and it wasn't direct. No nice human wanted to be seen as a racist.
"I'm sorry I was so rude to you..." she trailed off.
He looked her in the eyes for long moments, a speculative expression on his face.
"Tell me about Julie. Were you close?"
"Not really," said Diana, thinking of the platinum-haired faun. Diana didn't want to betray the trust Julie had placed in her by telling Mac anything that wasn't relevant to her possible disappearance. She hoped that wherever Julie was, she was okay.
"You have her Omni signature."
"I do. The clients aren't required to give me their contact information, but I try to earn their trust enough so that they feel comfortable giving it to me. You never know."
"What can you tell me about her?"
"She's an orphan. She was raised on a reservation in the Hill Country. And she has a sixteen-year-old daughter. She's probably home with a cold or something and forgot to call in..."
Diana's voice trailed off.
"She's petite and delicate to look at, but she's really street smart. Her favorite phrase is 'fucking ridiculous'."
Mac chuckled at the last part.
"She's not some flaky bar girl. She doesn't miss her shifts. She has a daughter to take care of."
"You look worried."
"I am. A little," she sighed. "Probably nothing to worry about." She waved a hand dismissively. He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. She looked up to see that Mac's eyes held a tender expression. His touch was warm and comforting... like one friend trying to comfort another. She felt herself melting as she looked into his eyes. She opened her mouth to thank him for his concern when the sound of the bell above the door of the mostly empty diner stole her attention.
Diana watched as a tall man strode in, looked around the diner, then headed for their table. He had buzz-cut, strawberry blonde hair and several days' worth of ginger stubble along his jaw. A long, white scar started at his hairline, bisected his eyebrow, and ran down his cheek to his jawline. His eyes were a bright blue. Her nose twitched at the scent of burning leaves rolling off him.
Shifter.
"Mac!" said the man. He grabbed several fries from Mac's plate, dipped them in the ketchup, and popped them in his mouth. He grinned...or actually, he grimaced. He continued to smile his frightening smile at her, but he spoke to Mac.
"Who's your friend?"
"Bubba," Mac muttered, shifting in his chair. Diana looked at Mac, a question in her eyes.
"Diana, this is Bubba Cermak. We work together." Mac turned to Bubba, who was "smiling" at Diana.
"Bubba, meet Diana. We're doing a field evaluation."
Diana nodded and smiled politely but felt a little uncomfortable as Bubba's eyes were riveted on her. Mac got to his feet and through gritted teeth said, "Have a seat, Bubba," indicating Mac's empty chair. Mac pulled up another chair and sat down between Bubba and Diana.
Bubba's eyes traveled over Diana's face in appreciation. Mac glared at the other man, looking as if he were close to decking him. Sensing tension between the two men, Diana gave Bubba a polite smile, then she made eye contact with Mac, and her smile brightened. Mac smiled back, then turned to look at Bubba, eyebrows raised and an expression that said, "See? She likes me better than you."
"Good to meet you," she said, giving Bubba a head nod.
"I was just walking by and saw you sitting at the window. You're the last person I'd expect to see here," Bubba said, cadging more of Mac's fries.
"Diana works here, and as I mentioned, we're working together," Mac said. "Are you in the area for business...or personal reasons?"
The reference to Dallas' notorious red-light district went sailing over Bubba's head.
"Believe it or not, I have an assignment down here too." He continued to eat Mac's fries. "And it so happens, I was hoping to run into you."
"Really," said Mac, tilting his head at Bubba.
Diana's eyes bounced from one man to the other as they spoke. She stood up to leave. "Do you guys need to discuss business? If so, I think I'll get going."
Mac cast an irritated look at Bubba, then looked at her, chagrined.
"It's okay." She shrugged. "We're done with inspections for the day. I need to get back to the office. I'll see you in the morning?"
"Of course," Mac said.
Both men stood when she did. Mac kept his large body between Bubba and Diana, giving the other man his back. When she paused at the door to wave goodbye, Mac was watching her leave, glowering, while Bubba had picked up the rest of her sandwich and was eating it. The two men couldn't be more different, Bubba was gregarious and clueless, Mac quiet and intense. They didn't look like they belonged together, but they had an easy way with each other.
As she stepped into the sunlight, she decided to put Mac out of her mind...at least for the rest of the day. She had plenty to do, between Julie, the concubine assignment, and the next thing on her agenda for the day. She'd have to pace herself for the next few weeks, keep herself focused on work, and not allow herself to be distracted by anything that did not further her objectives. She was sure she could do it.
Chapter 11
Wednesday, September 13, 2079. Morning.
Julie Wheeler awoke disoriented and with a splitting headache. She breathed heavily, paused, and then filled her lungs with dank, stale air.
She had been through surgery once for her wisdom teeth and remembered the sensation of the anesthesiologist placing the mask on her face, counting backward from 100, and then the confusion of waking up to the medical staff bustling around the operating room after the procedure was over. While it was obvious the procedure must have taken some time, for Julie, it had felt as if only five minutes had passed.
She felt the same loss of time now, eyes wide open in the dark, with no idea how long she had been unconscious. She tried to move her limbs, but it felt as if someone had placed a weighted blanket on her. She didn't think she was tied down...but moving took a Herculean effort and resulted in only small twitches. Her head hurt like fuck--she must have been drugged.
Her mind whirled, and her eyes darted around in the dark. Nothing. She thought she was in a confined space. It smelled musty, and the air didn't seem to move. She grunted and swallowed the saliva that pooled at the back of her throat, then winced. Her throat was dry, and it hurt to swallow. She shifted her legs and noted with chagrin the absence of the blade she usually kept strapped to her left thigh for protection.
If he found my knife, he probably also has my Omni.<
br />
She wriggled her wrist. She should feel the thin metal of her communications device on her wrist, but she didn't.
Fuck.
Turning her head produced a searing pain over one side of her face. She wanted to sit up, lift her shoulders, turn on the fucking lights and get the hell out. While she had never before been drugged and kidnapped, as a sex worker, she was used to being in bad situations. She'd been an upstairs girl and a bar girl for close to fifteen years. This was not her first rodeo.
She thought about shifting into her faun form but discarded the idea. Her mind flashed back to her abduction, and she realized the creature must have mistaken her for Marjorie, which happened all the time at work. She didn't know whether shifting would be of any help to her in her current circumstances anyway. Her kidnapper might not realize she was a shifter, and it was better to keep the element of surprise on her side.
So, she was forced to focus on her breathing, enduring the tingles that turned agonizing as the paralysis wore off. She opened and closed her mouth experimentally, worked her lower jaw back and forth as the joints cracked and popped. She remembered leaving Woodland Creatures, taking the Glide home, thinking about Amanda and finally, being attacked and taken.
She prayed to the gods that Amanda remembered what to do when she came home from school and found her mother missing.
Darkness continued to press in on her as her limbs pricked and roared back to life. She became aware of lying on some kind of a cheap mattress. It smelled clean enough, though she detected the unmistakable scents of other females. Other captives? The idea gave her pause, but she refused to let this idea paralyze her.
Enough feeling returned to her that she could raise one heavy, leaden arm, then the other. Her eyes leaked tears that rolled into her ears from the effort. Right arm...left arm...moving was torture, but she made an effort. She pulled up first one leg, then the other. So painful...she had never experienced anything like it. She refused to cry out loud. Her body wanted to shift into its faun form, to speed up her recovery from the attack, but she held back her shift and struggled to get moving again.
The Minotaur's Kiss Page 5