The taxi driver didn’t mind her indecision. “Change your mind as often as you want, hon. The meter’s running.” She remembered that Kent had actually offered to pay for the taxi ride.
She got out of the taxi. She didn’t know if she’d be allowed back in or not, but she paid the taxi driver, and he drove away.
No turning back now
. She stood for a moment, watching the cars go by on the busy street in front of the warehouse. She’d have to walk around to get in, but she wanted to go over the whole thing in her mind one more time.
A lot depended on who was the gatekeeper of the moment. Brennan wouldn’t turn her down, she was pretty sure. She thought Genna would let her in, too. Charles she didn’t know well enough. And if it was Kent…well, she’d kneel right there in the waiting room if it was Kent.
She walked around the corner, where the shadows deepened away from the main drag.
She almost bumped into a man who was leaning against the wall. She hadn’t noticed him because she was lost in thought. It didn’t help that the man was in black leathers, had a hood pulled over his head, and it was dark out. “Good evening, love,” said the man in a British accent that struck her as a bit off, as if he were an American faking it.
“Sorry.” She looked at him for a moment, intending to keep on going. But something about his dark eyes held her still for a moment.
“You have no idea,” he said. “Here. Smell this.”
He held up a palm-sized translucent brown bottle, half-full of a clear liquid. Even as it approached the sickly-sweet odor of it was noxious, but rather than holding her breath she followed directions and inhaled deeply. She stood there for a couple of seconds, feeling nauseous and a lightheaded. He’d done something to her. The chemical. She batted at him weakly, succeeding only in knocking the hood off the man’s head. His bright green hair was easy enough to see in the dark, at least. Pretty, pretty green hair.
“Anyone seeing you will think you’re someone who had a little bit too much to drink,” the man told her cheerfully as he put his hand around her waist. She took a few steps with him, and after that, everything went black.
* * * * *
Dark Xanadu had come to full life. Every station, including the new St. Andrew’s cross Brennan had built during the week, was in full use. People were starting to recognize new friends from the week before, and the conversation was lively. Kent watched with pride. He couldn’t have made it all work without his friends, he knew, but he was glad to have had a part in making Dark Xanadu a reality.
One person, he noticed, was still standing by himself. Jack was a Dom, according to his application, but apparently he and his sub had broken up shortly after their first night. Kent tended to reject the membership applications of single men, unless Brennan or Charles vouched for them. Too many hanging around made the women uncomfortable, and the same was not true in reverse. Jack’s former sub, Karen, had showed up without Jack on week two, and Jack was there without Karen today. Jack’s approach to finding a partner to play with, or even someone to talk to, seemed to consist of waiting around for other people to make the first move.
That trick, thought Kent, almost never works.
He walked over to the lonely man, who was about his age. Tall, dark, with a crooked nose that prevented him from having a handsome face, Jack looked anything but confident as he shifted his weight every half-minute.
“Hey, Jack. How’s life treating you?” asked Kent. He wasn’t looking forward to getting dumped on, but Jack needed to be pulled into the community somehow.
“Crappy,” said Jack. “Still missing Karen, my sub. She broke up with me.”
Kent nodded sympathetically. He thought of sharing his own experience, but he hadn’t been with Angela long, and he didn’t know how long Jack and Karen had been going together before the split. “That sucks, man. Still, plenty of fish in the sea.”
Like I’m taking my own advice
. He had good reason not to get mixed up with any woman, though, with Mario after him.
“Meh. The fish aren’t biting.”
“It usually works better if you approach them,” Kent observed, resisting the temptation to take the fishing analogy any further.
“I think I’m going to call it a night. Nice place, though.”
Kent grinned. “Thanks.” He thought about the possibility of Mario out there, or Greenie. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“Nah, I’ll be all right.”
Kent hesitated. Actually, Jack was probably safer without him, for much the same reason Angela was safer without him. He couldn’t do much to stop a vampire, not with just a gun on the inside of his leather jacket. He had a wealth of experience at turning the enemies’ strength against them, but that only went so far. So he nodded. “Good night.”
People would start to be leaving soon; Jack was the first of the wave. The action built until eleven o’clock or so. After that it slowly trickled off, although there would still be a number of people there at one when the place closed. At the staff meeting afterward they were going to talk about whether to stay open later, or open a second night. All but Kent had full-time jobs. In Charles’ case, more like sixty hours a week than forty. Extra hours meant finding a way to share the burden, and possibly getting some extra help.
And I’d really like to take care of the Mario problem first. In the mean time, no one is going to leave alone and unwatched.
He walked over to his office, reached up, and took down the sword that was above the door. Obviously, he couldn’t walk on the streets with the sword at his side without attracting some very unwanted attention, but if he was hanging out in front of his own club, it would come across as mere eccentricity.
He walked out to the reception area and smiled at Genna. “I’ll take over here for the rest of the night, Gen. Go have some fun.”
Genna looked up from the romance she was reading. She noticed the sword and raised her brows. “Yes, Sir,” she said, hopping off the tall stool she was sitting on. For a moment, Kent thought she was going to say more. He looked away. He didn’t really want to be quizzed about Angela, and neither did he want to deal with Genna’s attempts to distract him from Angela. He wanted to be outside, anyway, so he kept going.
Jack was getting in his car safely enough, and another couple he hadn’t noticed leaving was starting their car. As Jack started his car up, lights flaring on, the couple in the other car was revealed more clearly. The green hair on the man he noticed first, but then his eyes dropped to make out the features of the limp woman sitting in the shotgun seat.
Angela. Greenie’s car backed up with a screech. He reached for his gun, but with the car’s passenger side now toward him, there was no way he could shoot at Greenie without risking hitting Angela. And unlike the vampire, a bullet could kill Angela.
As far as he could tell, Greenie hadn’t noticed him. He ran to his own car. He appreciated its responsiveness more than ever as he turned the key in the ignition and the engine came to life. By the time Greenie was ready to turn onto Kenilworth Avenue, Kent was right behind him. Greenie drove an old brown Ford from the days when cc’s were more valued than mpg’s, and no doubt could have lost him if he’d spotted him and was willing to break a few speed limits, but as far as he could tell he hadn’t been noticed as his quarry turned onto Route One.
How had he gotten Angela? Because that was definitely her in the car, unless she had an identical twin. But Angela had left nearly an hour before. He’d seen her get into the taxi, and Greenie had been talking to Gerald at the time. Had she come back? He frowned. He could have pushed her away harder, but he was trying to be gentle and do the least damage. And, he admitted, put himself in position to get back together with her when things were safer, if they ever got that way. Either way, it was his responsibility that she’d been nabbed. Gerald had probably told the vampire of their connection, and Greenie was probably working with Mario.
He followed the Ford onto East-West Highway and then let the other car get a little distance when it pulled onto a side street. They pulled into a covered garage that was attached to a red brick and aluminum siding split-level. The whole subdivision was full of the kind of houses that had gone up in the late forties and early fifties all around suburban D.C. in anticipation of returning soldiers from at World War II and Korea. Most of them had uncovered driveways, a handful had carports, but the house Greenie pulled into was the only one on the street with a full garage. Coincidence, maybe? But it was the kind of amenity that a vampire would place a priority on due to their allergy to sunlight. Kent suspected that the house was a regular haunt for at least one vamp.
He could go in, sword waving. Maybe if Greenie was the only vampire, and if he wasn’t expected, that would work. Maybe. He could wait for daybreak. Vampires were easy pickings in the daytime, but by then they’d have had six hours with Angela. If he tried to rescue her now and failed, they’d have her for an eternity. For a moment he imagined that if he died trying they wouldn’t have any need for Angela anymore. She was bait. But he knew that didn’t mean they’d let her go, not likely. If she were lucky she’d end up merely a regular food source; they might make her a servant, or a vampire. But more likely they’d drain her dry and no one would ever find the body. Most vampires, Slyvannia had told him, were discreet and preferred not to have any deaths or missing bodies connected to them. Mario wasn’t one of those, and if Greenie was working with him, which seemed nearly certain, he probably wasn’t either. Either way, as long as he was alive they had an interest in keeping Angela reasonably healthy.
If Greenie had spotted him, then he was expected. So he drove right by and turned back toward the club. He had to go somewhere to spend the restless hours before daybreak—he doubted very much that he would get any sleep—and if he had any chance for backup, it was from his friends. Even if they didn’t believe him about vampires, they might be convinced that he saw someone take Angela. But he owed it to them to lay the whole thing on the line. It wasn’t fair to ask Brennan or Charles to go into danger without having warned them.
He prayed that he wouldn’t be six hours too late to rescue Angela.
When he got back, it was after midnight. The club was still going strong. His clientele were definitely night owls, and from a business perspective, it definitely made sense to keep the club open later. Right now he was much more inclined to add daylight hours.
Genna frowned at him when he entered the coat check. “Where’d you go?” she asked, the hint of accusation in her voice not at all in keeping with her usual deference.
He was half tempted to keep her out of it, to confide only in Brennan and Charles. Physically, she was no match for any of them. But she was his friend, too, and he wasn’t going to exclude her from helping because of her gender or because of her preference for taking the submissive side of a D/s relationship. Genna was smart, knew people, and had lots of talents, and even if he didn’t see how they’d help at the moment, he wasn’t going to exclude her.
“Someone grabbed Angela. She came back to the club, and someone stuffed her in a car and drove off. I followed them.”
“Oh my God!” Genna put her hand to her mouth. “Police haven’t been here yet. When did you call them?”
Oh, right. Any normal person would have called the police. But of course they weren’t going to be helpful for rescuing Angela, and they’d probably be considerably in the way. If they showed up at the house off East-West Highway, they’d most likely become entranced tools of the vamps, making everything harder. And even at the club, they’d be underfoot. “We’re not calling the police.”
“Kent Allard Carlisle,” said Genna, hands on her hips. “Angela’s safety comes before publicity for the club. And if you don’t call the police, I will.”
He raised an eyebrow. As the sole eyewitness, he could let her call the police and deny he saw anything, he supposed, but he wasn’t going to put her in that position if he could help it. He had to admit she was making perfect sense, and her indignation was certainly justified from her perspective.
“Genna.” He put his hand over hers, which had reached for the phone on the wall next to the coats. “Trust me. This has everything to do with Angela’s safety, and nothing to do with the club. If I had to close this whole place down to get her back, I would, in a heartbeat.”
Genna looked uncertain. “You two didn’t look any to happy with each other when she left.”
“She wasn’t happy with me, and for good reason, but the feeling was not mutual. She was almost certainly kidnapped to get at me, anyway. I’ll explain to you, to Charles, and Brennan after we close. The whole situation, and what I propose to do about it. I would literally rather die than fail to protect her, Genna.”
Genna stared into his eyes for a moment and withdrew her hand. She nodded slowly. “If I didn’t know you so well, there’s no way I’d believe you, Kent. We can close the place early, you know. People will be disappointed, but if it will help…”
He shook his head. “We have to wait to do anything anyway. And the people who took her don’t know that I know where they are, hopefully, or even that I know they took her. The best thing we can do now is act as normal as possible.”
A het couple walked into the lobby from the dungeon area. The woman handed Genna half of a playing card, and Genna went to get their coats. He’d left the coats unguarded by running out after Angela, and no doubt Genna had started the conversation angry with him about that, but he really hadn’t had too much choice.