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And just like that, Amy had a lead.
Jumping to her feet, she grabbed her bag and hurried out of the office, nodding to the janitor on the way.
It looked like her Friday night was about to get a lot more exciting.
Chapter 2
“You don’t have to come with me,” Amy repeated for the fifth time, giving Jay an exasperated look. She’d made the mistake of texting him about her plans, and he showed up at her doorstep twenty minutes later, dressed for clubbing but doing his best to dissuade her from going.
“If you’re going, I’m going,” he said stubbornly. “I don’t think either one of us should be doing this, but, baby girl, you’re crazy if you think I’ll let you go there by yourself.”
“You just want your name to be on the story,” Amy joked, flipping her shoulder-length hair upside down to work in some mousse. Her reddish-blond hair was naturally fine and straight, but if she put enough product in it, she could achieve some sexy waves. Sexy wasn’t a look she normally tried for, but in this case, it was important. The Ks were not only humanoid in appearance, but downright gorgeous . . . and according to what Amy read online, they liked their human sex partners to be nearly as good-looking as they were.
Amy was fairly certain she didn’t fit that criteria, but she was hoping that with enough makeup—and with contacts instead of glasses—she’d look pretty enough to be let into the club.
“Our names will be the story,” Jay said darkly. “I can see it now: Two Missing Journalists, Last Seen Hunting Aliens in Meatpacking District.”
“Oh, please.” Amy straightened and began applying mascara to her long brown lashes. “Since when are you afraid to go to a club? You do crazy stuff all the time—”
“Yes, but I do it for fun, not to prove myself to our idiot boss,” he retorted. “And no amount of drinking or partying compares to trying to infiltrate an alien sex club. You do see the difference between a little recreational weed and this, don’t you?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Amy muttered, swiping blush onto her pale cheeks. “Like I told you, I only texted you about this so someone would know where I am. You don’t have to come with me.”
“Yes, I do.” Jay gave her a ‘get real’ look. “You’re my only female friend. You think I’d let you get spirited away on some spaceship?”
“They live in K Centers on Earth, silly.” Amy grinned at him in the mirror. “Why would they take me on a spaceship?”
“Who knows?” he said, plopping down on her couch. “Maybe they like cute, green-eyed blondes who wear glasses to work to seem smarter.”
“Mmm, yes. I’m just their type.” Laughing, Amy smoothed her hands down her blue, form-fitting dress. With her curvy hips, she wasn’t exactly model material, though she was generally happy with her figure. It helped that her ex-boyfriends seemed to enjoy a rounder ass; one of them even claimed it was his favorite part of Amy’s body.
“You never know,” Jay insisted. “Seriously, Amy, I wish you’d reconsider. Do you realize that they can do absolutely anything to you in that club, and nobody would stop them? Our laws don’t apply to them. They can kill you, and nobody would blink an eye, treaty or no treaty. You understand that, right?”
“Of course I do.” Amy was beginning to get tired of this conversation. Sometimes Jay could be like a dog with a bone. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I know how dangerous the Ks can be. I’ve seen those videos of them ripping people to shreds, and I’ve read the eyewitness accounts. But we’re journalists. We’re supposed to investigate stories, to uncover important truths and bring them to light, even if there’s risk involved. We didn’t choose this profession so we could be writing about puppy twins or socialite weddings or whatever bullshit Gable assigns us. We need to be doing real reporting, Jay—and this is our chance.” Pausing, she gave him a level look. “I’m doing this—and you can either join me or go home.”
* * *
“Okay, this is the restaurant,” Amy said when their cab pulled up in front of a fancy-looking hotel. According to Google, the restaurant was on the rooftop of the building. “Now what?”
“Now we go to some real nightclubs and forget this insanity,” Jay said, climbing out of the cab and opening the door for her. “You’re already dressed up—it’ll be perfect. We’ll have a blast, just like last weekend.”
Amy blew out an exasperated breath. “I’m not repeating last weekend for a good long time—I already told you that. And we’re not here to party; we’re here to observe.”
“Right, of course.” Jay sounded morose. “We’re just going to quietly observe some aliens—who won’t mind at all that we want to publicize their secrets.”
Amy ignored him, trying to figure out where the club “across the street” could be. All around her, the area swarmed with beautiful people. Meatpacking was the clubbing district of Manhattan. Models, celebrities, Wall Streeters, and everyone else mingled on the cobblestone streets and in edgy-looking club-lounges, trying to outdo each other with designer bags and clothing. Music blared out of several open doorways, and drunk girls stumbled around in sky-high heels, giggling and flirting with every guy in sight.
Amy had to admit that the Ks were smart to locate their club here; with all the glittering crowds, even a Krinar could go unnoticed.
Studying the building across the street, she saw a group of tall, leggy women approaching an unassuming brown door. There was no sign above it, nothing to indicate what kind of establishment it was. One of the women knocked, and the door swung open, letting the group in. Then the door closed immediately.
Amy’s story-sniffing sense went on full alert. “There,” she said, grabbing Jay’s arm and practically towing him across the busy street.
“How do you know?” His voice held an undertone of anxiety. “Did you see one of them
?”
“No.” Amy ignored the honking of cabs as she cut in front of several cars. “But I think I saw some women who might be their types.”
