Fire Dancer (Spellbound in Sedona #2)

Chapter Twenty-Two

PIPPA

Wow. Using the direct approach was pretty damn effective. Pretty damn terrifying, too.

Jananovich listened intently as I explained how much money I needed and how desperately. In fact, he nodded like he’d heard that story a hundred times, and he probably had. With Stacy. With Janet Sullivan. With Rob, Saanvi, and the others, no doubt.

And, shit. Was I truly going to add myself to that list?

As I spoke, he raked his gaze over my neck, and his nostrils flared again. Ick.

“Well, we are a staff member short with Stacy away,” he finally mused, stroking his chin.

Away , my ass. She was six feet under, or soon to be.

And I swear, I will make this murderer pay, I vowed quietly.

“What’s your asking price?” he asked.

“What’s your going rate?”

He mulled that over. “For an entry-level position?”

My imagination only came up with two positions. Number one was eyes squeezed tight with my head tipped back while a vampire got off on sucking my blood. Number two was eyes squeezed tight with my legs spread wide while a vampire got off on other aspects of my body. Both had zero appeal.

But, hey. I had a few moves of my own planned. Number one, a kick to the balls. Number two, a stake to the heart.

Number three, a little voice whispered. Burn the place down.

“Five thousand a night,” he said. “Assuming you don’t need room and board.”

He assumed right.

But, damn. What would he offer next? Medical plans? Retirement benefits? Dental coverage?

I frowned at the image. Dental…vampires…

Ick.

The crazy thing was, I actually found myself doing the mental math. Six nights with Jananovich, and our tax hike would be paid off. Just three weekends…

Then my sanity won out. There was no way I would prostitute my body or my blood.

I shook my head. “No room and board. My safety, on the other hand, is nonnegotiable.”

He waved a hand, dismissing the thought. “I can assure you, we see our consultants as investments. It’s not in our interest to hurt anyone.”

Oh yeah? He’d probably assured Stacy too.

His eyes twinkled. “In fact, I’m told the experience is quite pleasurable for the escort. A real rush, apparently.”

On a scale of one to ten, with one being slightly crude and ten being absolutely, positively disgusting, I gave that a nine — and only because I was reserving ten for the real thing rather than just imagining it.

“So I gather,” I said dryly.

His brow furrowed. “From Stacy?”

“No, she didn’t say a word,” I said in her defense, though that wouldn’t help her now. “I figured it out on my own, though it took a while.”

Things went on in that vein — ew, definitely no pun intended — for a while. Eventually, I found myself signing a nondisclosure agreement, then bustled off to join the escorts. Jananovich called me back before I got both feet out the door, though.

“One last thing, Ms. Martin. We usually vet our escorts carefully, but time is short.”

A helicopter buzzed overhead, and Jananovich rose to his feet.

“Therefore, Deirdre will remain with you at all times. To orient you to our customer-friendly approach, of course.”

Deirdre? The bitchy brunette with the three-inch nails who’d picked up the vials?

Yep, that Deirdre. She stepped out of the shadows, and it took everything I had not to blanch. Especially when I caught the scent she must have masked earlier. Vampire.

Still, I forced myself to nod. “Of course.”

She stepped closer in a stilted walk dictated by that tight cocktail dress. The sequins flashed, just like her eyes did.

Orient me? More like kill me if I stepped out of line.

“Follow me,” she grumbled.

And just like that, I was in. Well, out the door, but in with the escorts, who were primping for the night in a big, ground-floor room in another building that was part of the La Puebla rabbit warren. The place was set up like a fashion show dressing room, with racks of clothing and a row of light-studded mirrors.

Deirdre introduced me curtly, and everyone looked over with the air of sorority girls, already judging if I was cool enough to join their exclusive club.

I wished I could assure them I really, really didn’t want that. Not at all.

Luckily, the din of hair dryers drowned out any attempt at conversation, and no one seemed to recognize me. Either I was completely forgettable, or they had all been so dazed that no one remembered me from before.

I recognized them, though. Kelly, Rob, Becca, Saanvi, and the others. Poor, meek Delaney was there too, looking like a deer in headlights as she followed the others through the motions.

Ingo and I had guessed at what was going on, but seeing it made the details sink in.

The vials. The escorts. The big event with VIP guests.

Jananovich wasn’t just selling sex or blood. He was running a twisted business catering to vampires — connoisseurs, one might say, not of fine wines, but rare blood types. Why settle for an ordinary human “vintage” when you could sample a fine blend of the best bouquets? A human-mermaid blend, for example. A hint of dragon. Maybe even a splash of pegasus.

My eyes misted as I thought of Stacy. Had she even been aware of her heritage? Had she dreamed of galloping and flying over open plains the way I dreamed of controlling fire?

I looked around the room. Did any of the escorts know about their own heritage?

Somehow, I doubted it.

But Jananovich knew. I could picture him hiring a couple of bear shifters with good noses — like the one who’d kept an eye on Stacy — to scour bars and gyms for promising new “talent.”

Worse, I could picture the rest. Blood samples drawn and poured into vials. Vials used to lure high-end paying clients to events like tonight’s highly anticipated “dinner.”

A hundred thousand per person, I’d heard one of the escorts say proudly.

Nancy’s catering was good, but not that good. The main draw — the secret sauce, one might say — was Jananovich’s escorts.

I thought back to all the vials Stacy had picked up over the past weeks. Many more than necessary to draw in customers for one dinner. Unless…

My stomach turned. I would bet good money — say, $30,000 — that Jananovich was running an entire business based entirely on small amounts of blood. Targeting a different segment of the vampire market, in other words, who paid a premium for handpicked samplers sent monthly, the way some folks paid for a coffee subscription.

My pulse rose, and I yearned to explain it all to Ingo.

I couldn’t — not now — but I did use a trip to the toilet to text him a choppy, telegraph-style message. Then I checked the nanny cam — and nearly cursed out loud. Someone had put a wide-screen TV in front of it, and all it showed now were blurry cables.

Shit, shit, shit. I would have to get back in and reposition that camera.

I sent another text, explaining the problem in staccato bursts of misspelled text. That was the best I could do before Deirdre cleared her throat outside my stall. If I didn’t exit, pronto, she would drag me out and frisk me.

I hit send, then deleted the conversation and cut the link to the camera before emerging with a ditzy smile. In no time, I was squeezed into a pleated chiffon dress and matching emerald pumps, with my hair done in long, loose curls.

And, oh. A glance in a full-length mirror told me I looked pretty damn amazing. Not a good thing, though. Not tonight. I ruffled my hair and plucked at the dress, doing my best to spoil the effect.

The escorts started lining up at the door, where a security guard patted everyone down before letting them walk over to the main house.

I hung back, wide-eyed.

“Is that really necessary?” I whispered to Kelly.

Her look said Duh, though her words were kinder. “All part of the rules. No phones, no devices, nothing. Makes sense, though.”

I stared at her. Sure, it did — if you were running a criminal organization and didn’t want any evidence leaked.

“Don’t worry.” She shrugged. “It’s just like airport security.”

No, it wasn’t, because that was designed to protect the good guys.

My pulse raced as I eyed the rear door. It was high time to get the hell out of here…somehow. The nanny cam might catch something useful, and the vials I’d stashed might also serve as evidence. The escorts would probably survive the night, and eventually, the law would catch up with Jananovich. I’d risked enough tonight.

If our roles were reversed and Ingo were the inside man instead of me, I would be screaming at him to get the hell out. That it wasn’t worth his life. That he didn’t have to be a hero.

But since it was me…

Slowly, understanding dawned on me. This wasn’t about being a hero. This was about responsibility. Not responsibility to an employer or agency, but to my own conscience. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.

But, shit. I’d never, ever done anything as dangerous as this. Posing as an escort was bad enough. If Jananovich caught on to what I was really doing, he would kill me. Slowly.

Correction. He would drain my tasty pyromancer/dragon blood, then kill me. Slowly.

My gut wrenched. My sisters would be gutted. My father would be destroyed. My mother…

I sighed. Mom might be saddened, but she would get over it.

Ingo, on the other hand, would never forgive himself, and I shuddered to think what he might do to himself or others if I didn’t make it out.

It hurt just to imagine causing so much grief to so many people. But I understood why Ingo would go through with it if he were in my shoes. It was the right thing to do, and he couldn’t live with the guilt if he backed away.

Just like I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t.

I patted the clothes and personal effects I was leaving behind gently, wondering if I would ever see them again. Then I pulled up my big-girl pants — figuratively, because pants would look really weird with that dress — and joined the line to get patted down.

Outside, the last rays of the setting sun warmed my skin. I threw a look at the surrounding wilderness, praying Ingo would understand why I had to go through with this.

Another wave of realization washed over me. Ingo probably murmured the same prayer every time he undertook a mission, and I had never, ever shown him the slightest understanding. I’d never made impossible choices easier on him, only harder.

God, I’d been so selfish.

I bent my head with a final vow. If I got out of this alive, I would love Ingo long and hard. I would make him part of my life — if he would have me — and celebrate every moment we had together. I would do my best to keep him out of trouble, but I would let go when necessary. And I would make damn sure he headed out knowing I was proud of him.

Be proud of me, Ingo, I thought loud and clear, hoping he might hear me. And I swear, I will do everything in my power to get back to you.

I gulped, then allowed myself to be swallowed up by the darkness of the hallway.