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She looked so worried that I motioned for her to sit down without consulting Roman to ask if he was willing to listen. But he gestured for her to join us.
“What seems to be the problem?” Roman leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, his gaze locking hers. That was one thing that made him so popular—when he turned his attention to someone or something, he gave it total focus with an intensity that was frightening.
Shikra pulled out a letter and put it on the table. “I received this the other day. It was followed by two anonymous phone calls. I think there’s a connection but I can’t prove it. I’ll let you read the letter first.”
The minute I picked up the paper, I recognized the letterhead. From a law firm called Vistar-Tashdey Enterprises, it was an offer to buy the Utopia Club from Shikra. Strongly worded, it was almost a demand. There were no names listed, no signature other than that of the lawyer representing VT Enterprises and a phone number. Same as the letter I’d received.
On edge—the letter was as off-putting and self-important as the one I’d received had been—I held up the paper. “Can I have a copy of this? Do you have a copy machine on the premises?”
She took it. “Yes, I’ll have one made. But as I said, the letter isn’t the only problem. The phone calls are more frightening. Last night, and then about an hour ago, I received two calls, and both times someone threatened to torch my club. No reasoning, no blackmail demands. Just a gruff voice, making a death threat. I have no idea if the caller was male or female—the voice sounded disguised.”
A shiver ran through me. “Roman…”
He seemed to be thinking along the same wavelength. “You’re thinking there may be a connection?”
I nodded. “Could be.” Turning back to Shikra, I asked, “As far as the letter, can you think of some reason anyone would want to buy your club? No offense, but… are you making a ton of money?”
Shikra shook her head. “That puzzles me, too. Oh, I’m getting by—business isn’t bad. But it’s not the best, either. There’s no real reason to buy me out unless they want the land the building is on.”
I thought for a moment. How could I not tell her about my experience? There had to be a link. But I had no clue what was going on, and until we knew, I was hesitant to mention that I’d received the same treatment.
“Be careful. I’m serious—I think this threat may be real. Keep an eye out, and make certain you post security at the doors. If you haven’t got an alarm system, get one tomorrow.”
“You don’t think it’s just a crank?”
“I wish I did think so.” I paused, then shook my head. “Seriously, be cautious. Meanwhile, I want a copy of the letter, please. And by any chance, were you able to record the messages that came through?” It was a long shot, but I asked anyway.
As I thought, she hadn’t.
“No, I took the calls when they came in, and I know it was the same person both times. Their words were muffled. I’m guessing whoever it was, was trying to disguise their voice. And both times the calls were short. I asked questions but they didn’t answer.”
“What did they say exactly?” Roman glanced around the club and I followed his gaze. The Utopia was unlike most vamp clubs, decked out in vivid crimson, green, gold, and black. The setup reminded me of a tropical lounge, with lush ferns and sprawling ivies spilling over the edge of built-in flower boxes. Booths, a muted crimson, were smooth and rounded, curving around dark walnut tables polished to a high sheen. The floor was a tiled linoleum, a black-and-white speckled pattern. There were no overwhelming drapes hanging low, like in some vamp clubs. No highly sexual statues, or macabre images. For the most part, the Utopia could have been any upscale and chic bar.
Shikra squinted. “Let me try to remember the exact words.” After a moment, she shrugged. “He—or she, I have no clue why but I want to say it was a he… he said, ‘Better count your hours, bloodsucker, because I’m going to send you and your fucking club up in flames.’ And then he paused. That’s when I asked what the hell was going on. He hung up.” She shivered, rubbing her arms. Vamps didn’t feel the cold much, but I knew it wasn’t a chill hitting her.
I closed my eyes. That almost mirrored to the exact wording what my caller had said. The only difference had been, “Better count your hours, bloodsucker, because I’m going to take you and your fucking bar down so hard you’ll never get up.”
That was all Shikra could remember. Roman told her to put a recorder on the club phone and see if she could capture the message if the freak called back, and then she left to print out a copy of the letter for me.
As we headed out, I glanced back at the Utopia. “I hope it’s just somebody’s bad idea of a practical joke.” But as I stared at the neon sign, I kept seeing the flames engulfing the Wayfarer. “I hope to hell that’s all it is.”
Roman walked me to my car. I stood by the Jag, staring into the night. “I’ll drop by Erin’s and ask her about the job opportunity. I’ll call or have her call you tomorrow night.”
Roman drew me in for a quick kiss. His bodyguards were in the background, studiously ignoring us as his hands slipped over my body, cupping my butt. I moaned into his mouth, then pulled away.
“Night, doll,” he whispered, ushering me into my car. He shut the door when I was in. As I drove off, he stood there, one hand raised, watching me go.
I stopped by Sassy Branson’s old mansion—which was now the headquarters for both the Seattle Vampire Nexus, and Vampires Anonymous. Located on two acres, the estate was gorgeous, and the mansion spacious. I stopped at the gate to show my ID. When Sassy had been alive, there had been a simple intercom system, but back then, nobody outside the vampire community knew she was a vamp, and she hadn’t been all that nervous. Now there was good reason to post armed guards around the perimeter, given the hate groups that were alive and thriving.>“What are you talking about?” Roman set down his tablet.
“I’m being sued for wrongful death or some such crap. One of the victims’ families wasted no time in snagging a lawyer and slapping me with a lawsuit. Makes me wonder just how much they actually gave a damn about their daughter.” Feeling terribly grumpy, I reached in my purse and pulled out the summons I’d received the night before and tossed it on the table. “Lovely, huh?”
Roman silently opened it, scanned it through—he read incredibly fast; his intelligence was at genius level—then slowly refolded it and set it back on the table, keeping his hand on it.
“Bullshit. I’ll have my lawyer contact you and we’ll put a stop to this nonsense.” He shook his head. “Money-grubbing bastards.”
“Chase said he’d find me a lawyer—”
“Nonsense. I have the best money can buy. You are my consort. No arguments.” When Roman put his fangs down, he put them down. After a moment, he rubbed his chin, then placed one hand over mine. “I want to talk to you about something—two things actually. First, I want to pay for the rebuilding of your establishment.”
