Lover Avenged (Black Dagger Brotherhood #7)(9)

“How we doing?” Xhex asked. “You need anything from me and my boys?”

Marie-Terese glanced around at the other working women, her high cheekbones catching the dim light, making her look not just sexually alluring, but downright beautiful. “We’re good for now. Two in the back at the moment. It’s been business as usual, except for the fact that our girl is not here.”

Xhex snapped her brows down. “Chrissy again?”

Marie-Terese inclined her head of long, black, and lovely. “Something needs to be done about that gentleman caller of hers.”

“Something was, but it didn’t go far enough. And if he’s a gentleman, I’m Estée f*cking Lauder.” Xhex fisted both hands. “That son of a bitch—”

“Boss?”

Xhex looked over her shoulder. Past the mountain of bouncer who was trying to get her attention, she caught another full-on of John Matthew. Who was still staring at her.

“Boss?”

Xhex refocused. “What.”

“There’s a cop here to see you.”

She didn’t move her eyes from her bouncer. “Marie-Terese, tell the girls to relax for ten.”

“I’m on it.”

The head bitch in charge moved fast while seeming to just saunter in her stillies, going to each of the girls and tapping them on the left shoulder, then knocking once on each of the private bathroom doors down the dark hall to the right.

As the place emptied of prostitutes, Xhex said, “Who and why.”

“Homicide detective.” The bouncer handed over a card. “José de la Cruz, he said his name was.”

Xhex took the thing and knew exactly why the guy was here. And Chrissy was not. “Park him in my office. I’ll be there in two.”

“Roger that.”

Xhex brought her wristwatch up to her lips. “Trez? iAm? We’ve got heat in the house. Tell the bookies to chill and Rally to stop the scales.”

When confirmation came through her earpiece, she did a quick double check that all the girls were off the floor; then she headed back to the open part of the club.

As she left the VIP section, she could feel John Matthew’s eyes on her and tried not to think about what she had done two dawns ago when she got home…and what she was likely going to do when she was by herself at the end of tonight as well.

Fucking John Matthew. Ever since she’d barged into his brain and saw what he’d been doing to himself whenever he thought about her…she’d been doing likewise.

Fucking. John Matthew.

Like she needed this shit?

Now, as she went through the human herd, she was rough, not caring when she hard-elbowed a couple of dancers. She almost hoped one complained so she could toss them out on their ass.

Her office was up on the mezzanine floor in the back, as far away as you could get from where the sex-for-hire happened and from where the beat-downs and the deals rolled out in Rehvenge’s private space. As head of security, she was the primary interface with the police, and there was no reason to bring the blue unis closer to the action than they had to be.

Scrubbing the minds of humans was a handy tool, but it had its complications.

Her door was open and she sized up the detective from behind. He wasn’t too tall, but he had a thick build she approved of. His sports coat was Men’s Wearhouse, his shoes were Florsheim. Watch peeking out of his cuff was Seiko.

As he turned to look at her, his dark brown eyes were Sherlock-smart. He might not be making a lot of paper, but he was no dummy.

“Detective,” she said, shutting the door and going past him to take a seat behind her desk.

Her office was all but naked. No pictures. No plants. Not even a phone or a computer. The records in the three locked fireproof filing cabinets pertained only to the legitimate side of the business, and the wastepaper basket was a shredder.

Which meant Detective de la Cruz had learned absolutely nothing about anything during the 120 seconds he’d spent alone in the room.

De la Cruz took his badge out and flashed it. “I’m here about one of your employees.”

Xhex pretended to lean across and look at the shield, but she didn’t need the ID. Her symphath side told her all she had to know: The detective’s emotions were the correct mix of suspicion, concern, resolve, and pissed off. He took his job seriously, and he was here on business.

“Which employee?” she asked.

“Chrissy Andrews.”

Xhex eased sat back in her chair. “When was she killed?”

“How do you know she’s dead?”

“Don’t play games, Detective. Why else would someone from Homicide be asking about her?”

“Sorry, I’m in interrogation mode.” He slipped his shield back into his inside breast pocket and sat in the hard-backed chair across from her. “Tenant below her apartment woke up to a bloodstain on his ceiling and the guy called the police. No one in the apartment building will admit to knowing Ms. Andrews, and she has no next of kin that we can locate. While we were going through her place, though, we found tax returns listing this club as her employer. Bottom line, we need someone to identify the body and—”

Xhex stood up, the word motherf*cker banging around her skull. “I’ll do it. Let me get my men organized so I can leave.”

De la Cruz blinked, like he was surprised she was so quick. “You…ah, you want a ride down to the morgue?”