Night Shift (Kate Daniels #6.5)(77)

Naturally, my Taser was in my purse hanging on the back of the stall door. What good was carrying the thing if I couldn’t get to it?

The door slammed open, and Steve, Mike, and Elana charged in.

Khaki Guy was squirming like a greased pig, kicking at me until his shoes flew off. I heard the rasp of a zipper, and the next thing I knew I was left holding an empty pair of khakis. There was an “oof” and sounds of a scuffle. Once my eyes had stopped watering, though they still stung like hell, I squinted to see a pasty guy wearing only a yellow Polo, tighty-whiteys, and argyle socks trying to run, but mostly sliding, down the hallway with Steve and Mike in hot pursuit.

I groaned and squinted my eyes shut. I was never gonna be able to unsee that.

Steve tackled the half-naked leprechaun and I helpfully flung the khakis in his general direction. I was straddling Jeans Guy and doing my best to literally stare him into submission. Unfortunately he was the one screaming “Rape!” though at least he was still wearing his pants.

Elana was leaning against the open bathroom door teary-eyed from laughing.

A bouncer rounded the corner, took one look, and busted out laughing, but still managed to put out a hand, and snatch Tighty-Whitey Guy off his feet by the collar of his Polo.

“These the two you looking for?” he asked someone behind him.

Ian stepped into view, and didn’t look the least bit surprised to see me. “These our boys?” he asked me.

I managed a nod, still gasping for smoke-free air. I hadn’t found any yet.

Ian took a sniff, swore, and shook his head.

“It’s not mine,” I told him, keeping my eyes locked on the leprechaun.

“I know it’s not.”

“You do?”

“You’re human. That’s a recreational drug popular in the Seelie Court called clover weed. It wouldn’t do you much good.”

Now I was curious. “Why?”

Mike caught a whiff, blanched, and scuttled away fast.

“Sir, I—” he began to Ian.

“Get some air.”

Mike fled. That was the only way to describe it.

“Steve,” Ian asked, “How much did you get?”

“Not enough. I’m fine, sir.”

Ian paused, not looking convinced, then muttered another curse. He keyed his comms: “Yasha, we’ve apprehended two of our leprechauns. More than likely the other three are in here somewhere. I need secure transport back to a holding cell at HQ.” Ian paused. “And I need additional agents. Human agents. Steve and Mike may have been compromised.” He paused for a moment, probably listening to Yasha. “Clover weed.”

Yasha’s booming laugh came over all of our headsets.

I wanted to see Ian’s reaction, but if I looked away from Jeans Guy before we got him cuffed, in a blink he’d turn back to his leprechaun form and squirm his way into an air duct or something.

I’d only met Yasha a few hours ago, but it was long enough to know we had the same sense of humor. If the Russian werewolf nearly busted a gut laughing because of that clover weed stuff and it “compromising” Steve and Mike, then chances were good I’d get a chuckle out of it, too.

I was straddling and staring down a scrawny guy in the ladies’ room of a sex club. I deserved a laugh.

“Uh . . . I’d rather not sit here all night,” I told Ian. “Especially not here here. Can we get this guy cuffed?”

Ian grappled Jeans Guy into a pair of glowing green handcuffs.

The instant I “dismounted” and took my eyes off of his, the leprechaun reverted to his true form—and the cuffs shrank right along with him.

That didn’t go over well.

The leprechaun’s face twisted in rage, his green eyes went huge, and he started shrieking again, though this time it was in a language I’d never heard before, but I didn’t need to know what it was to know that it was what the old-timers back home called language you didn’t use around the womenfolk.

“Guard that entry,” Ian told the bouncer. “No one gets in or knows we nabbed these two. And when transport gets here, we’ll take these two out the back. Don’t want to spook the other three if they’re here.”

The bouncer nodded. Looked like he worked for SPI, too.

Ian helped me to my feet. “Let’s get you out front. Two down, three to go.”

I about said the hunting’s better in the bathroom. My headache was gone and I really didn’t want it coming back.



AMAZINGLY enough, no one out in the club had seen or heard either me or the leprechauns. Maybe the music had covered the noise we’d made, and people were, um . . . focused on their own activities. The leprechauns probably could have set off a bomb in here and no one would have noticed.

The whiff of whatever I’d gotten in the ladies’ room had definitely taken a big chunk out of any embarrassment I may have had left. Tonight had been my first time in a big-city club of any kind, let alone a strip or sex club. I had questions, was intensely curious, and between the clover weed and my partner’s hands all over me less than a half hour before, I wasn’t the least bit shy anymore about asking those questions. The little voice in my head was frantically waving for me to stop. I kicked the door shut on my little voice. Party pooper.

I half turned on my tuffet toward Ian, my right leg crossing over my left, also toward Ian. My little voice was banging on the door and screaming at me.