The vampire got up from behind her desk. To say that Roslyn Phillips was an attractive woman would be like saying Sherman only set a few fires in Atlanta - a complete understatement. Her eyes and perfect skin were a rich toffee, and her cropped, layered black hair highlighted the edge of her strong, square jaw. Silver glasses perched on the end of her button nose and made her eyes seem even larger and more expressive. The vampire had the kind of face that made you do a double-take to wonder if such symmetrical perfection was possible. On her, yes.
Since the nightclub wasn't open for business yet, Roslyn was dressed down in a pair of skinny jeans and a button-up white shirt. But the simple outfit still showed off her body to its full potential. Plump breasts, lush hips, flat stomach, toned thighs, just the right amount of curve to her ass. Roslyn was like a female version of the David - only much more fuckable. The vamp was one of those who used sex to power up, along with blood, and she'd spent years, decades even, learning how to work what she'd been given to her full advantage.
Roslyn came around the desk, and Finn pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek, once again playing the part of the Southern gentleman. The vampire drew back, and her dark eyes landed on me.
"And you brought Gin along with you," she said in a neutral tone.
"Hello, Roslyn," I replied. "Lovely to see you too."
Roslyn's smile turned into more of a grimace. She hadn't forgotten our last meeting at Fletcher Lane's funeral.
The one where I'd told the vampire I knew that she'd talked about Fletcher, Finn, and me, about what we did. That her well-intentioned whispers had led Alexis James to Fletcher and the Pork Pit and had gotten the old man killed.
"What do you need?" she asked in a quiet tone, still staring at me.
Need, not want. Roslyn Phillips seemed to be taking our conversation to heart. I'd agreed not to kill the vamp or tell Finn what she'd done - and told her point-blank she would have to give me and Finn anything we needed for as long as I saw fit. Since I wasn't a forgiving person, that was going to be a good long while. Starting right now.
"Ah, Roslyn, you wound me," Finn said. "What makes you think we need anything? Perhaps I just wanted to stop by and bask in your beauty."
The vampire snorted. "Cut the bullshit, Finn. If you'd come by yourself, I might have pretended to buy that tired old line. But you brought Gin with you. I doubt she's interested in my beauty."
"Sorry, Roslyn," I said. "I don't swing that way."
The vampire shrugged and turned her dark eyes to Finn. "So I ask the question again - what do you need?"
Finn opened his mouth, probably to sweet-talk Roslyn some more, but I cut in. We didn't have a lot of time to waste. We needed to get what we came for from Roslyn and get on with things.
"I need to get into Mab Monroe's party tonight," I said.
Roslyn's eyes widened for half a second before she masked her surprise. "You want to get into Mab's party?
Why?"
I stared at the vampire, debating what I should tell her. The less Roslyn knew, the better. But after our last conversation, I had no doubts the vampire would keep her mouth shut this time. She knew what I'd do to her if she didn't.
"I need to get close to someone."
Roslyn frowned with understanding. "Who?"
"Tobias Dawson."
The vampire blanched with disgust, but she didn't ask why I was interested in the dwarf. Hooking in Southtown for a few decades was a great way to dampen your curiosity. On the mean Southtown streets, you did things without asking the reasons or thinking too much about them afterward. Besides, Roslyn knew the why didn't really matter, since the only reason I ever got close to anyone like Dawson was to kill him.
Roslyn crossed her arms over her chest. Her foot turned sideways and tapped on the thick carpet. After a few moments of quiet introspection, comprehension flickered in her dark eyes. "You want to go in as one of my girls. That's why you're here."
I nodded.
Roslyn stared at me, and I let the coldness leech into my gray eyes. I respected the vampire for what she'd accomplished, for being smart and savvy enough to work her way up from a street hooker to a wealthy businesswoman.
And I especially admired Roslyn's fierce devotion to her sister and young niece, her determination to provide a better life for them. But that didn't mean I was going to let the vampire renege on our deal. Fletcher Lane was dead, partly because of her. She owed me until I said otherwise.
"All right," Roslyn said in a quiet voice. "I'll help you, Gin."
"Thank you." I might be twisting Roslyn's arm to the breaking point, but there was no need to be ungrateful about it.
The vampire nodded her head. "Follow me."
Roslyn led us out of her office. The maze of corridors snaked all the way around the interior perimeter of Northern Aggression, forming a series of passageways, peepholes, and discreet doors that let Roslyn, her hookers, and the giant bouncers who watched out for them have access to the entire nightclub without having to fight their way through the drinking, smoking, snorting, fucking crowd on the main floor.