“Uh-huh.” She arched an eyebrow. Too bad for him she wasn’t “people”—she wasn’t even human.
“Your friend Harriet may read palms. I read body language. When you brushed your hands over your skirt, crossed your legs, and then decided to look out the window instead of asking me about Wicked Divine, I knew there was something you weren’t telling me. What do you know about this place that I don’t?”
Fuck. She looked him directly in the eye and put on her sweetest smile. “I drank too much and became ill there a few years ago. It’s a bad memory.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Riiiight. Liar… liar… pants on fire,” he drawled. “How about you try again. What else do you know about Wicked Divine?”
“You’re really good at this.”
“The best. Government certified. Better than a polygraph.”
Rowan rubbed her hands together nervously. What could she tell him? He wasn’t ready to learn the truth. As a human, he might never be ready.
“Okay. You’re right. I’m not crazy about sharing this, but I used to date the owner, Michael Verinetti.” Absolutely true. Nick didn’t need to know the guy was a shape-shifter and the head of the largest shifter pack in the Northeast. Michael could be a powerful ally in the hunt for information about NAVAK, or a powerful enemy if he was still pained about their breakup. She’d been the one to end things, and she’d been careful to stay out of the places he frequented since.
Thank the Mountain it seemed to be enough of an explanation for Nick. “Things still awkward between you?”
“Shouldn’t be. It’s been a number of years since I’ve seen him.”
“I’ve never been so happy to be carrying a gun.” He flashed her a crooked grin that made the scar on his lip more pronounced.
“We probably won’t run into him. Unless something has changed dramatically, he’s usually too busy managing things behind the scenes to notice what’s going on at the front of the house.”
Nick leaned back against the leather seat, his gaze sweeping over her. “If all goes as planned, we’ll find what we’re looking for quickly and be out of there before he has a chance.”
Rowan nodded, but inside, her stomach clenched. Nick didn’t know it yet, but they’d soon be arriving at a known supernatural hotbed, and the detective was likely in more danger than he realized.
Chapter Ten
Good God, the woman was beautiful. A beautiful puzzle full of secrets. She’d lied to him, twice now. He wanted to believe she’d had good reasons, but he was also wary. It didn’t make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside to think they’d arrived at a club owned by her ex-boyfriend, a club linked to the logo that was on his murder victim, who was found behind her community center. Coincidence? He didn’t believe in coincidences.
Wicked Divine was one of those high-end places in prime real estate. Anyone who owned property here wasn’t just loaded, they had connections. Michael Verinetti wasn’t someone he wanted to deal with tonight. And he wasn’t fooling himself—there was no way they wouldn’t run into the guy. Rowan exuded sexual energy in that red dress and heels. Every man within a fifty-yard radius was going to notice her. Word would get back to Verinetti.
Nick helped Rowan out of the car and led her toward the club, distracted by the bare skin of her back under his fingertips. Fuck, he needed to concentrate. He had work to do. A girl was dead and he needed to find Soren’s lead, the one with the same tattoo, and investigate if it had anything to do with her murder. That meant he had to resist his desire to not take his eyes or hands off Rowan. A tall order considering every cell in his body was cheering for him to pursue her relentlessly. His libido was on the megaphone and his hormones had formed a pyramid. He was trying to keep his dick from raising the flag.
“Nick, over here.” Soren waved to him from across the parking lot, then did a double take when he saw Rowan. Nick watched his jaw drop in a way that would be comical if it wasn’t so embarrassingly obvious.
“Everything okay?” Nick asked, fixing Soren with a deadly stare. “You have a little drool there.”
“No. Uh, who’s your friend?”
“Soren, this is Rowan. She’s the owner of Sunrise House.” He raised his eyebrow. Soren immediately connected the dots and didn’t push it any further.
“Well, all right.” He gestured toward the bouncer. “After you.”
This was the hard part, getting in without alerting everyone to the fact he was a cop. He took Rowan’s arm and led her to the front of the line where a bald and heavily tattooed bouncer gave him a puzzled look.
“The end of the line’s back there, buddy.” The man gestured with his head, then pointed toward Rowan. “She can go in, but you’re gonna have to wait.”
“We’re on the VIP list,” he said. At least he hoped they were. He’d had an analyst in the department working on pulling a few strings all day.
“What’s your name?”
“Grandstaff.”
The man scrolled through a few screens on his tablet, barely looking at the names. “No one on my list by that name.”
He glanced back at Soren, who stepped forward and said, “Try Averdale.”
