Demon Fire (Angel Fire #3) - Marie Johnston Page 0,82

ego.

She got her water, but didn’t settle on a stool. She hadn’t been lying. Staying cooped up for weeks in the same space drove her crazy in a way that the cabin in Montana hadn’t. The difference was that she could leave the cabin whenever she wanted. And she’d had company. Quality company.

Strolling by the booths, she looked over every one. How much body fluid was on the surface? Blech.

“The cleaners will arrive in an hour and prepare it for opening time.”

Fall From Grace didn’t open until after ten. Part of its allure. It was open from eleven to five a.m. and half the people had to wait in line for two hours to get in. More exclusive that way, and therefore, more popular.

She passed onto the dance floor. Under the normal glow of regular lighting, it was nothing special. The same went for the rest of the club. The cages sat empty like oversized dog kennels. The dance floor lacked luster, dulled from a thousand heels pummeling it week after week.

She drained half her bubbly water and kept looping the main floor. When she neared the entrance, Andy tensed, but she kept circling.

As she passed the entrance, she spotted a couple of guys chatting by the front doors. “You keep guards out there twenty-four seven?”

“There are some who think the hours don’t apply to them.”

“Are they usually women? Are they usually trying to get into Jameson’s bed?”

“Good deduction, though those attempts have died off over the months.”

Probably more after she’d been making an appearance each night, which only helped her to keep making them. Fewer women Andy had to convince that Jameson still existed.

“You’re going to need to tell them eventually.”

Andy took a sip of his amber liquid and his lips thinned. “It’ll be best if Jameson dies an epic death.”

“He already did.” The fallen hadn’t redeemed enough of himself, that would’ve been impossible, but he’d managed something all had thought was impossible, and he’d only been able to do it to save his son.

“Unfortunately not where everyone can see.”

“How inconvenient.”

“Yes.” Andy took another drink. So did she. She finished her water and grabbed another, ignoring Andy’s perplexed glance.

A few more laps around the club floor settled her. She’d learned a few things during the last few weeks, and she was getting restless.

She drank half her second bottle of water. “Can I use the bathroom down here?”

“No. We’re heading back up.”

Crestfallen for more than one reason, she slumped her shoulders. “Can’t I walk a few more laps? It’s just that the baby’s bouncing on my bladder.”

His jaw tightened but he finally nodded. “Two more laps and I’ll take you back to your room. I have more work to do.”

“Can I come down again tomorrow and get another walk in?”

Andy scowled. “You ready to give me a sample of blood?”

She had to give in soon, even when her inclination was to take the needle and stab him in the eye with it. “When’s the midwife coming?”

“One of my bodyguards can do it.”

“I don’t think I’m immune to hepatitis anymore.”

Andy nearly smirked at her joke. “When the midwife comes, then—but I’ll take as many vials as I want.”

“As many as she clears you to take,” Sierra amended.

His scowl was back, but he was oddly protective about the baby. “Use the bathroom.”

She stopped at the first one, pushed the door open, and wrinkled her nose. It wasn’t a disaster but it smelled like ten teenage girls had gone wild with stolen perfume. She went into the second bathroom, the one she’d intended to use in the first place, and shut the door.

First, she stood in place and scanned the area for hidden cameras. It appeared safe. She checked the towel dispenser disguised as modern artwork. The exposed brick that was fake around the sink and toilet area. Nothing.

She squatted and felt under the sink counter. Nothing. Then she crawled on top of the sink and felt along the line of trendy lights housed in cages like the ones on the dance floor. Dust rained down on her, but she felt around until her hands touched a cool object stuffed in the corner. Her heart raced as she took it down and got off the counter.

She used the toilet like she’d claimed she needed to. After she finished, she washed her hands and used the towels to wipe up the dust and footprints from the counter.

Stuffing the phone in her underwear, she prayed it’d stay in place for two laps around the club.

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