Unfortunately, the ache subsided, and he didn’t die.
But still, Tristan was on the cusp of losing everything.
Damn, he wished he’d known that the Malefactor’s trustee was going to pull something like this before he’d hired Jian Laio away from Ikenna. Jian’s salary was a raindrop in a cow trough compared to what White Holdings, Inc. was demanding, but Jian deserved reliable employment, not a boss who was going to lose everything in two months.
Unless Tristan could figure out a way to get what he needed.
4
How It’s Going
Colleen
Because the night was dark and there was no sign near the street entrance, Colleen Frost almost missed the long, U-shaped driveway of the Devilhouse, and she cranked her clunker car’s steering wheel to turn through the gate in the wrought-iron fence when her phone had demanded she Turn here!
People who were wealthy and connected enough to get into the Devilhouse must know where it was and not need anything as gauche as a sign.
There was still a line to get in, though.
Colleen stood in the queue with the other shlubs who hadn’t used the valet parking, fidgeting in her cosplay outfit from AZMangaCon three years before. The fluttery blue miniskirt still fit, but the white bodice was a little tight over her boobs. Walking around a tiny store for work and sitting in an office chair while moderating message boards wasn’t a lot of exercise.
Even though night had fallen hours ago, the asphalt parking lot and sidewalk under her feet reradiated the desert sun’s heat and rippled warmth up her legs. Colleen fanned herself hard with a slick paper flyer because she was beginning to sweat under her costume and long blond wig.
This wasn’t going to work. A random internet dude had told Colleen he’d get her on the VIP list and pay her cover charge for the swankiest, most notorious nightclub in the Valley, and she’d believed him.
Sucker.
Not to mention that she was meeting said random internet dude at a nightclub at night. She hadn’t told her local friends about it because they would’ve talked her out of it. Meeting a stranger alone, even in a public place, was a stupid thing to do.
Yet, here she was.
And she wasn’t leaving, even though her knees felt a little trembly.
At the head of the line, an enormous, barrel-chested man was standing behind a podium and soberly checking IDs. Subtle tattoos of eagles clutching a globe in their claws scrolled over the dark skin of his arms that were so muscular they stretched his black tee-shirt’s sleeves, and the knit cotton clung to his pecs and abs. A name tag—Jeffrey—was pinned on the left side of his chest. Underneath his name was written, Director of Security.
Colleen approached and offered the man her driver’s license.
He pinched it between his thick thumb and forefinger and examined it, flashing a blue beam of light over it. He looked up at her with dark, piercing eyes and then back down at the ID card.
In her license picture, Colleen’s eyes and hair were basic brown, but her costume included a long blond wig and blue contact lenses. Her foundation was thick and white, almost clown-like, and exaggerated eyeliner around her eyes made them cartoonish vertical ovals. A glue stick and concealer had made her eyebrows vanish, and she’d painted arched brows on much higher. Plus, she’d contoured her chin and nose until her face was practically elfin.
When she’d been cosplaying at nerd conventions, she’d discovered the devious magic of contour and highlighting. Even though Colleen had always been pudgy, she could contour her cheekbones and chin and dress up as Black Widow or Wonder Woman with conviction. Some of her friends she’d gone to the cons with hadn’t recognized her until she’d spoken.
She’d also doused her face with setting spray so she wouldn’t leave half her makeup on his . . . whatever.
She flapped her hands at her nautical blue and white dress with fluffy red bows on her bosom and tailbone and her red thigh-high boots. “It’s a cosplay costume,” Colleen told the bouncer, trying to be helpful. “That’s my license. That’s me.”
“Mm-hmm.” The man gestured to the better-lit lobby behind himself. “This isn’t really a cosplay kind of club.”
“I’m incognito,” she said, trying not to sound like a dork.
“Yeah,” he said, drawing the word out with suspicion. “Step over here and look up at that lighting fixture.”
Colleen followed his directions even though she wasn’t exactly sure why. The chandelier on the ceiling blazed with tiny gold light bulbs that grew into snowflakes as she stared at it, and her eyes watered.
The man looked at her license and then peered at her eyes from the side. “I can’t tell. Look at me and move one of the contact lenses aside, please.”
Colleen turned, stuck her finger in her eye, and dragged the bright blue contact lens to the outer corner of her eyeball, showing him her brown iris underneath.
