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I slipped in. The guy loading the industrial-size dishwasher had headphones on and had his back to me, so I rushed past, through the next door, and out to the bar.

CHAPTER 12

Iris

The club was packed. I worked my way through the crowd of sweaty bodies moving to the music, fighting my way to the bar. But the staff was slammed. Talking to them right then was out of the question.

So I made my way around the perimeter of the room. I wasn’t sure what I hoped to achieve coming here, only that the urge to do so had been impossible to ignore—

A tingle danced down my spine.

I looked around the room, searching for I didn’t know what, and glanced up…

And froze.

A male in a suit stood behind a large glass viewing window that oversaw the club. His expression was stony as he scanned the room.

Oh yeah. He was definitely who I needed to talk to. I mean, I didn’t want to. I really didn’t want to go up there. But a guy like that, this was his place, and he’d know everything that happened in his club.

No one was going to just let me up there, though. He was the big boss, that was obvious, and I was nobody. But after working in bars and clubs for years, I knew exactly how I’d get up there. So I headed back to the bar, the staff was scrambling and rushed off their feet. I waved over one of the guys. He ignored me at first, but I persisted.

“What can I get you?” he asked.

“I’m a new hire. You have an apron back there, and I’ll get to work.”

“Experienced?” the barman asked.

“I’ve worked in bars for the last four years.”

“Thank fuck.” He reached under the bar, grabbed me an apron, and tossed it to me, then slid a tray my way. “You can start by gathering the empties. Kitchen’s through that door.”

I gave him a thumbs-up, then he was gone. I kind of felt bad for fooling the guy. I’d been in this situation before myself. It sucked. And they did look like they needed help. Shit. I’d make a couple quick rounds of the room, then do what I came here to do. It could only help my cover, right?

I rushed around the club, loading up my tray with empties and delivering them to the kitchen, then did another couple of rounds.

The staff here shouldn’t suffer because of all the morbid sightseers hoping to learn something about the missing girls. Why people were drawn to tragedy, I’d never know. I sure as shit didn’t want to be here. And what could the missing witches possibly have to do with the box of old remains I’d found? I had no clue, but they were somehow linked. I felt that tingle across my thigh for both.

I dropped off another load of glasses to the guy in the kitchen but was stopped by one of the bar staff before I could make a final run.

“Can you take these up to the VIP?” He pointed to the glass viewing window.

I’d think luck was on my side, but then I didn’t believe in luck, like I didn’t believe in coincidences. “Sure!” I called back as nerves exploded through my belly.

Mr. Suit had been watching me, and he knew I didn’t belong here. But the result was the same, no matter how it came about—I got to talk to him, which I had to assume was at least one of the reasons I was drawn here.

I made my way to the nondescript door that’d been pointed out to me on the far side of the room. Another guy in a suit watched me approach. He opened it when I reached him and stepped aside. His dark eyes locked on me, but he said nothing as I squeezed past. Not a shifter, possibly a demon? I wasn’t sure what he was, but he wasn’t human.

Classical music drifted down the staircase that led to the upper level, a complete contrast to the music playing in the club. My nerves grew as I reached the top, dread rushing up from deep inside me as I knocked on the open door.

“Enter,” a low, rich voice said from inside.

I didn’t know what was about to happen, but as wrong as this felt, I also knew this was where I needed to be. Every instinct told me as much.

He didn’t turn to face me when I walked in, and I stood there unsure what to do as he continued watching his club below. In the end, I cleared my throat. “I have your drink.”

“I didn’t hire you, witch,” he said mildly, still not looking back. “Why are you here?”

In for a penny, in for a pound. “I have some questions, and I think you might be able to answer them.”