And he pushed too far teasing Cody. Simon feels guilty about that, plus annoyed for feeling guilty. The werewolf is too nice.
Fucking bastard.
The stairs lead to a small, opulent office. Silk panels line the walls, and diamond chandeliers drip from the blood-red ceiling. The air reeks of blood and sex. Nose wrinkling, Cody moves to a corner with a better angle.
Kimiko sits behind her sturdy desk, reapplying lipstick. Her updo and violet corset look pristine. “Simon, Simon, Simon.I’ve been looking forward to your visit, but I didn’t realize you’d adopted a new pet.”
She lacks Andrea’s venom, but Simon still bristles. Cody ishisbodyguard. Other people don’t get to insult him. “I thought I should bring my own, since you never share yours.”
“Those?” Kimiko gestures towards the stairs. “They aren’t pets, they’re snacks.”
Simon settles onto the chair across the desk. Relaxing, not resting. The thirst is fading, now that he isn’t surrounded by pulsing hearts. The only living creature in the room is Cody.
“Can I see your guest book?” Simon asks.
Kimiko pouts her freshly painted lips. “No small talk? No introductions?”
“This is Cody, my… temporary assistant.” Simon’s eyes narrow at Kimiko’s familiar calculation. “He’s off-limits!”
“Pity,” Kimiko says, hand on her chest. “He’s so… tall.”
Cody smiles politely. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
He doesn’t seem nearly as disconcerted by Kimiko’s flirting as he was by Simon’s request to dance. Simon isn’t sure how he feels about that.
“How have you been, dear friend?” Kimiko asks.
Simon dislikes that question. “I’ve recovered. Thank you for helping me that night.”
The werewolf in the corner is a strangely reassuring figure. Bulky under the leather jacket, uneasy attention wandering the entire room. Cody knows how weak Simon is right now, but Kimiko doesn’t need to.
Clearly delighted, Kimiko rummages through a desk drawer. “Oh, did thanking me hurt? I’m just glad you’re safe and sound.”
“How about you?” Simon asks.
Kimiko hands over a tablet. “I’ve been very well. Do you want details?”
“I can smell them,” Simon mutters, pulling the tablet closer. Beneath Kimiko’s peal of laughter, he hears a faint snort from Cody.
“Such a prude.” Kimiko’s lavender fingernail taps the screen. “Here’s my guest book database. The dates of Lawrence Baird’s visits are bookmarked—just tap here and here for the table.”
“I thought you hated technology,” Simon says. “This is very technology.”
“This is a guest book,” Kimiko insists. “Not one of those terrible telephones.”
“Can I copy this?” Simon asks. His memory is good, but there are a lot of names. Nothing’s standing out so far, and he doesn’t want to miss anything.
“I suppose,” Kimiko says.
Simon uses his terrible telephone to photograph each screen of names from the nights Lawrence visited the Broken Cross. “Any chance I can get the background checks, too?”
“Absolutely not,” Kimiko says, cheerful but firm. Then she points to two names. “These two have ties to the Crescent Blade. You’ve had dealings with them, right?”
“I spoke with their Kenyan branch during treaty negotiations,” Simon says. “I’ve never had contact with their American branch.”
Kimiko leans back in her throne-like chair. “They’re the most powerful local hunters’ guild, but they’ve grown terribly dull. All positive reinforcement, no vigilante justice. Besides, their roster is public, and your would-be assassin isn’t on it. But they’re the most suspicious names Ican think of.”
“Thank you,” Simon says, sincerely this time. He returns the tablet. “I’m sorry again for making a mess at your club.”
