Jak guided me to the bar, ordered two beers, then put down some extra cash. "We need to speak to Jacinta Nadler."
The barman studied him for several moments, then nodded and swept up the notes. "She's on a break. I'll call her out for you."
"We'll be at that table over there," Jak said, pointing with his chin toward the far corner.
The barman nodded and ambled over to the phone. We picked up our drinks and took them to our table. He studied me for several seconds over the rim of his glass, then said, "Why is a wolf as hot as you so damn frustrated?"
"That," I said heavily, "is none of your damn business."
He grinned. "I'm a reporter. Puzzles are my business."
"Not this one. Not any longer."
I glanced up as a woman approached our table. She was small and shapely, with ample breasts and thick blond hair. She was also almost naked—paisley flowers covered her nipples, and the only other thing she wore was a glittery G-string. As Jak had said earlier, the club seemed to cater to all sexual orientations. Both sexes worked the floor, and the scantily clad females got as much attention as the males.
"You wanted to see me?" she said, her voice raspy and her brown gaze jumping warily between the two of us.
"Yes." Jak drew out his wallet and showed her his press pass.
She grimaced. "Fucking press. Man, I've done enough talking to you lot."
She turned to go, but I reached out and stopped her. "We're doing a story on your ex. We want to out him for the bastard he is."
She sneered, obviously unimpressed by this bit of news. "He'll wipe the floor with you. And then he'll get his press buddies to complete the hatchet job." She eyed Jak. "You, my friend, won't even be able to get a job at McDonald's afterwards."
"Oh, I doubt that'll happen," Jak said calmly. "I've got more than a few friends of my own."
She studied him for several more seconds, then drew up a chair and sat down. "I haven't talked to you. Understand?"