"No, but I daresay you’re resourceful enough to get that information yourself."
"I daresay I am." Or, at least, Stane was.
"They’re calling my flight. I’ll see you in the morning?"
"You will."
"And you’d better wear something you don’t value," he warned, his eyes glowing, "because I have every intention of tearing it off you the minute we are alone."
"I like the sound of that."
He laughed, blew a kiss, and hung up, leaving me grinning like a fool as I fired up my bike and drove over to Stane’s.
I parked on a side street off West Street, away from Stane’s computer shop and well out of sight of any foot traffic coming from the Phoenix. Given the condition of Stane’s storefront, it was obvious that the club’s patrons didn’t mind doing a bit of damage as they stumbled home.
As I took off my helmet, the noise hit—the music a heavy beat that pounded through the air and rattled the nearby windows. Underneath it ran the sound of raucous voices—men and women. I could only be thankful I didn’t have to go there. I didn’t mind loud music, but I liked to be able to dance to it. This seemed little more than noise.
I set the bike’s alarm, then made my way around to Stane’s shop. Thick grates covered the front windows, but a lot of the bars were bent—the work of drunken nonhumans, most likely, since humans would never be able to budge metal that thick without assistance.
I pushed the front door open and a tiny bell rang cheerily. The camera above the doorway buzzed into action, tracking me as I entered the shop—not that I could go too far in. Stane had a containment field around the entrance, and no one was getting into the inner sanctum without his permission.
"Stane, it’s Risa, reporting in as ordered."
"I believe you were supposed to report some ten hours ago," he said, his voice dry even over the speakers.
"Something came up."
"An event that occurs quite often around you, I’ve discovered." The slight shimmer that was the containment field disappeared. "Come on up."