by Helen Harper
She raised a knowing eyebrow. ‘Let me guess. Ex-boyfriend?’
‘Ex-fiancée.’
The woman winced. ‘Ouch.’
‘Yeah. Between you and me, he’s the one getting hitched.’ I laughed humourlessly. ‘I should just let bygones be bygones. It bloody hurts though.’ Unfortunately, I wasn’t lying.
‘I don’t think Chandra is the answer.’
Yeah, she definitely knew all about Chandra’s old job. ‘You’re probably right. I’d still love to get my revenge on him.’
‘I hear you.’
I took out the gold I’d carried with me for emergencies. ‘I was going to give this to her as payment.’ I gazed at it ruefully. ‘I’m not sure what to do with it now. I’m tempted to throw it at him. Maybe I’ll get lucky and hit an eye.’
The stripper stared. ‘That’s a shitload of money.’ Her expression soured and I immediately knew what she was thinking. I was Sidhe; to me this was probably small change.
I bit my lip. ‘I’d give it all away if I could just confront him. Let him see what he’s given up for that bitch. I don’t really want to hurt him but I’d love to bring him down a peg or two.’ I sighed loudly. The best way for this to work would be for her to make the suggestion but I could only lead her so far. ‘He’s got a bunch of minders with him though. They’d never let me get near him.’
I could see her mind working through the possibilities. I was holding the equivalent of more money than she’d probably ever seen in her life; she had to weigh up the chance that she would get fired versus the chance that she could be set up for years to come. I held my breath. Come on, love. You want to do this.
‘Well,’ she said slowly, ‘you could always take my place.’
Yahtzee. ‘What do you mean?’ I asked, looking surprised.
She dug into her coat pocket and pulled out a pretty feathered mask. ‘I usually wear this when I go in to these kind of parties. Some men like imagining you could be anyone, you know? I wasn’t going to bother because of today’s outfit.’ She opened her coat and I caught a glimpse of a fake police uniform. ‘But it’d let you get in and close to him and then you could say your piece.’ Her eyes drifted back to the gold in my hand. ‘I’m all for the sisterhood.’
I threw back my head and laughed. ‘I’d just love to see the look on his face. But won’t you get in trouble with your boss?’
She shrugged. ‘I’ve been thinking of finding something else to do with my life. These hours suck and there are only so many times you can let men paw at you before it becomes tired.’
I nodded. ‘I hear you.’ I thrust out my hand before she could think about it any further. ‘Here, take this in return. You’re doing me a massive favour and I won’t forget it.’
She took the gold and hefted it before it disappeared into her coat. ‘You’re really not going to hurt him?’
I met her eyes, hoping she could see the truth; I didn’t want her to feel bad about this in any way. ‘No,’ I said. ‘I really won’t. I just want to say my piece then maybe I can get on with the rest of my life.’
‘Amen to that,’ she murmured. ‘Well, good luck to you. Someone will come out soon and tell you when it’s time.’ She smiled slightly. ‘Don’t get hurt.’ With that, she whirled round and took off into the night.
I grinned. That was easier than I thought.
There was a flash of light and Bob appeared, two points of colour high on his cheeks. He was absolutely furious. ‘What on earth do you think you’re doing, Uh Integrity? This is not part of the plan! I thought you were going to hide in the corner and watch him. Do this and you’ll get caught and everything we’ve done up to now will have been a complete waste.’ He threw up his hands. ‘If you want your revenge on Byron so badly then ask for your last wish. I’ll do what I can to minimise the damage. But you can’t throw everything away because you’re feeling hurt that he’s moved on.’
I was touched by his concern. ‘Chill, Bob. I’m not going to get caught. And I’m not looking for revenge.’
‘Then what are you after?’ he demanded.
The truth was that I wasn’t entirely sure. The glimpse I’d caught of him back at the Cruaich had started up a strange, yearning itch, one that I’d never be able to scratch again. Maybe this was my last chance to get my kicks with Byron before all hell broke loose. Maybe I thought I could find out what he and his father were up to. Or maybe I was just a fool. I suspected it was the latter but it didn’t matter now; I was set on my course.
‘Never mind,’ I said dismissively. ‘But if I can use Illusion to pretend to be Aifric and get away with it—’
‘Almost get away with it.’
‘Then,’ I continued, ignoring his interruption, ‘I can use it to pretend to be that woman.’
He stared at me. ‘You’re going to pretend to be a stripper? Do you even know how to strip?’
‘Ha!’ I scoffed. ‘It’s taking your clothes off, Bob. I do that every single day.’
I concentrated, pulling out the magic and telling myself to mimic every part of the stripper, seen and unseen, until I was transformed. It couldn’t just be coincidence that I’d ended up with more Illusion than any other Gift. This was meant to be.
I examined myself. Instead of my usual pale, milk-bottle skin, I had an all-over tan. I whistled. Damn, I looked good. I checked underneath the coat. Hmm. I was also dressed as a policewoman as the stripper had been. Talk about stereotypes. I glanced at the mask she’d given me and, deciding the Illusion was more than good enough, discarded it.
I gave Bob a twirl. He huffed and looked away. ‘Stay out here,’ I told him. ‘It’ll be safer for you that way.’
‘Don’t come crying to me when you end up in a real grave instead of an imaginary one.’
‘Everything will be fine.’
He sniffed loudly and vanished just as the back door opened and a rush of noise greeted my ears. A face peered out. ‘Chardonnay? Is that you? Are you ready?’
Chardonnay? Good grief. I smiled and nodded. At least my voice would be less of a concern this time around. I pitched my tone slightly higher to match the real Chardonnay’s. ‘Who am I looking for?’
‘You don’t know? The stag is Byron Moncrieffe.’ He said it as if there should be a drum roll.
‘Oh.’ I tried to look impressed and I felt the Illusion ripple to mimic the thought. ‘Okay, then.’
He looked me up and down sleazily. ‘He’s a lucky boy.’
Yeah, yeah. I smiled daintily and dropped a curtsey. ‘Then let’s get this show on the road.’
I followed the man inside, past cardboard boxes filled with pork scratchings and crisps which made my stomach grumble loudly. He turned and frowned at me. I giggled. ‘I’ve not eaten yet,’ I said. ‘I find I’ve got more of an edge on an empty stomach.’
He waggled his eyebrows. ‘Well,’ he said in a voice that was more of a growl than a purr, ‘I can fill you up when you’ve finished with those Sidhe.’
I tried – and probably failed – not to look nauseated.
He gestured at me to wait behind the door. I took off my coat, and he smirked at my police outfit then popped his head out front to check that everything was ready. All of a sudden, I felt the tumble of butterflies in my belly overtaking my pangs of hunger. Bob was right: this was a mistake. All I was doing was torturing myself.
I took a step backwards, ready to run away, but the man wasn’t having any of it. When he saw me hesitate, he shoved me onto the main club floor. Shite. I couldn’t change my mind now.
The music, which had been pumping out a loud staccato beat, abruptly faltered. I strode into the centre of the floor as at least forty pairs of eyes turned in my direction. Licking my dry lips, I lifted my chin – and almost had a mini heart attack when I saw that Aifric was here after all. I reasoned that he’d have no reason to suspect that the Illusion ruse from earlier was being carried on here but all the same, I was suddenly more terrified than before.
Forcing myself to
play the game, I completed a slow half turn. Byron was looking distinctly ill at ease in a chair in front of me. I cleared my throat. How was this supposed to go?
‘Er… You’re all making too much noise,’ I said.
A chorus of jeers immediately answered me. I scowled and raised my hand. ‘The borough of Perth takes noise pollution very seriously.’
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aifric frown and jerk forward. One of the men from the Cruaich clearing grabbed hold of him and murmured in his ear. He relaxed and settled back, with a leer on his face. Ick.
‘Who is in charge of this gathering?’ I demanded.
Jamie, believing I was the real thing, opened his mouth, his brow knotted with tension but several others smirked and pointed at Byron. Keeping my expression severe, I looked straight at him. He wasn’t as naïve as his Moncrieffe friend and I could already see the angry recognition in his eyes that his buddies had hired a stripper to make the evening more entertaining. His reaction sent him up a notch in my estimation – a tiny notch, anyway.
Bob was right: Byron looked painfully tired. He might be dressed to the nines but the shadows under his eyes were very heavy and there was a pallor to his skin that I’d never seen before. I quashed my worries and glared, still in my role as angry policewoman. ‘You’re going to have to explain yourself,’ I said loudly.
Byron, still looking irritated, got to his feet. ‘I don’t want this.’
‘Oh,’ I answered, injecting the tiniest amount of breathiness into my words, ‘you’re going to have to try harder than that.’ I deliberately dropped my gaze to his crotch. ‘The borough of Perth doesn’t enjoy limp responses.’
Laughter rose amongst Byron’s friends. He rolled his eyes. ‘Look,’ he said, in a way that almost made me feel sorry for him, ‘I’ll pay you if you just…’
I walked up to him. ‘Did you just try to bribe a police officer?’ I pulled the handcuffs from by my belt and dangled them in front of him. ‘I think that’s a very serious offence.’
He raised his hands to try to get me to back off and in one swift movement, I snapped the cuffs round his wrists. Now he was even more pissed off. I gave him a tiny shove, forcing back onto his chair, then I lifted my foot, nudged his legs apart and rested my shoe on the edge of the seat, right in front of his groin.
Catcalls rose all around us but this time I barely heard them. Byron was mine. ‘You’ve been a naughty boy,’ I purred. ‘But I’ve lost my truncheon. I don’t suppose I could borrow yours? It looks … big.’
The shouts got louder. Byron, glancing around at the crowd, realised that he’d get out of this faster if he just played along. He sagged back, irritation still flickering in the emerald green depths of his eyes. I flicked a hand at the DJ and the music started up again. This tune was much slower than before.
I took three steps backwards and the men formed a circle round me. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the lot of them had started drooling and I’d ended up drowned in puddles of spit. Bleurgh. I played along, however, reaching up and loosening my hair from its tight constraints. I shook out the dark waves that were so unlike my own tresses.
I spotted Jamie in the corner, shrugging to himself then turning away to line up shot glasses. As I started unbuttoning my blouse, he poured vodka, moving up the line until every glass except one was full. I threw back my head and laughed while he surreptitiously sneaked a bottle of water from his pocket and used that to fill the final glass. Now that was interesting.
I spun round, wiggling my arse, all the while unfastening buttons until I reached my waist. It appeared that I was wearing a very lacy bra that left little to the imagination. I swayed in time to the music, backing up until I was almost sitting on Byron’s lap. I started rubbing against him, half wishing I could see the expression on his face and half hoping the ground would swallow me whole.
I pulled the blouse off my shoulders, intending to slide it down my back, but it caught on the bra strap. I tried to tug it free while still looking sexy; maybe this was going to be harder than I’d realised. I wiggled this way and that; when that didn’t work, I tried to yank the blouse away even if it meant ripping the fabric. From the expressions on a few of the watching faces, my contortions were more like those of a beached whale than a sexy stripper.
I turned my face to Byron’s. ‘You’ll have to use your teeth,’ I breathed.
‘Good grief,’ he muttered. He sighed and then I felt the fabric free itself. He must have used his Telekinesis Gift instead of his mouth. Oh well.
I twisted round until I was facing him, then hovered over his hips and raised my hands, lifting my hair and running my fingers through it. His gaze remained stony cold.
‘Here,’ Jamie said, thrusting a shot glass in between us. He held it to Byron’s lips and the princeling downed it in one as everyone cheered. Suspiciously, I leaned forward and nipped at Byron’s bottom lip with my teeth, my tongue darting out to brush across his mouth. He hissed in annoyance. Taking the hint, I leaned forward to his ear instead, using my curtain of hair to conceal my expression. It was Byron who was sneaking water, not Jamie. I hadn’t been able to taste alcohol on his lips at all – which begged the question why he was supposedly getting pissed.
I moved back slightly, trailing kisses along his neck and back up towards his mouth. Byron didn’t relax; his body was stiff and unyielding and there was no doubt he was hating every second of this. I smirked. I could rise to that challenge.
I twined my arms round his neck, swaying slightly. Jamie pushed another shot at Byron and he dutifully drank it before glaring at his friend and muttering, ‘Get me the hell out of here.’
I pretended to push Jamie away, affording him a saucy wink which inflamed the watching crowd. I wondered what Aifric made of all this. But then, as Byron’s eyes narrowed in disgust and I moved my head down, drawing in his musky scent, I forgot to care. My head dipped and my lips brushed against his once more. I deepened the kiss and pressed against him. With his hands still cuffed, there was little he could do to stop me. Even with our audience, I felt my pulse speed up but he was determined not to respond.
I ran my hands down his arms, resting them briefly on his biceps. My mouth was insistent and continued to press against his. I trailed one hand down his body and he groaned suddenly, his lips parting. My tongue darted inside his mouth and the catcalls and whoops faded into background noise. It was just me and Byron. A moment later, he gave in and began kissing me back. He raised his arms, looping them over my head, and pulled me closer to him. Blood roared in my ears. God, he tasted good. I moaned slightly ‒ and then I was blinking as something wet splattered my face.
Drawing back, I saw Jamie looking overly contrite, holding a glass and apologising. ‘I’m so sorry! I tripped!’
Byron yanked his arms back and stared at me, confusion clouding his gaze. His eyes swept across my features and for a moment I was assailed with panic that the Illusion was fading. Then he shook himself slightly. ‘Get up,’ he muttered.
I paused, unsure whether to obey or not but my body was lifted as his Gift pushed me to my feet. Byron got up as well, swaying from side to side. ‘Thish lovely policewoman wantsh to take me in for questioning,’ he said aloud. I tilted my head. He should be careful, he was overdoing the slurring. And what on earth was he up to? ‘We’re going to go upshtairsh to a more private room.’
His friends’ response was a mixture of disappointed boos and encouraging shouts. Byron jerked his head at Jamie who nodded and led the way. ‘I’ll show you where you can go,’ he said, half smiling. Close up, there was no denying that he was worried.
Jamie led the way as the yells behind us got louder. Someone muttered that they should have hired more than one stripper. I tried not to shudder and allowed myself a sneaky look at Aifric. He wasn’t watching me; he grinned in amusement at his son then turned away to talk to an older man.
The three of us tripped up the stairs and into a room on the left. Jamie closed the door behind us and loc
ked it, while I told myself I wasn’t nervous.
Byron dropped the act immediately. He flicked his magic towards his bound wrists and the handcuffs fell off and clattered to the floor. He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Who are you?’ he hissed.
I smiled. ‘Who would you like me to be?’
He snarled and whirled away. ‘Pay her,’ he snapped at Jamie.
‘We can’t just let her walk away,’ Jamie answered. ‘Not now you’re supposed to be up here and…’
Jeez. Even with everything else that was going on, I really hadn’t thought that Byron was this sleazy. He cursed under his breath.
I found my voice, only just remembering in time to alter it so I didn’t sound like myself. ‘I’m a stripper,’ I said, ‘not a hooker.’
‘Relax. Nothing’s going to happen.’ Byron looked at Jamie. ‘This could work in our favour. She’s the perfect diversion.’ He bunched his fists. He seemed unable to look me directly in the eye. Was that because I’d ignited his desire and he was embarrassed about it? If only I’d not set my own lust alight at the same time. ‘We’ll pay you triple,’ he said, ‘if you stay up here and don’t tell anyone.’
‘I think everyone already knows,’ I said, forcing myself to smirk.
He glared. ‘We’re leaving.’ He pointed at Jamie. ‘Me and him.’ He ran a hand through his hair and I watched as it flopped down against his forehead, one golden curl standing out against his perfect skin. ‘You will stay here until morning. If you keep quiet and don’t answer the door, you’ll get three times your usual fee.’
What the hell was going on here? What were they up to? ‘I guess I can do that,’ I said hesitantly.
All business now, Byron nodded. ‘Jamie, we’ll stick to the rest of the plan. You stay downstairs in case anyone gets suspicious. If you need to, you can come up here and pretend to check on me from time to time.’