Bea wrinkles her nose. “That ghoul hasn’t shut up in weeks. He just feeds on the fear and misery. There’s no tragedy he can’t turn into a political opportunity. I’m sorry you had to listen to it.”
I shrug a shoulder. “You know more than anyone how much I’d love to stick it to my parents, but I need just one viable candidate who actually has the best interest of the city at heart. Whatever is going on with these missing women is scary. I—” I hesitate to tell her the full truth, but she deserves to know. How else will we do what we set out to and keep the women of Lunameade safe?
As I tell her about the Breeders and the evolution of the Drained, her eyes get progressively wider. When I finish, she looks like she’s going to be sick.
“Well, you know what you have to do,” she says. “You have to take that man at the bar upstairs and find out what he knows.”
“I don’t have my necklace.” I rarely take it off, but I didn’t want to detract from the scandalous neckline of this dress. “Plus, I never do work here. That’s one of our rules.”
Bea crosses her arms. “Are you not forever bending rules when it serves you?”
“Last time I bent the rules, I kissed my husband.”
She grins. “And look how well that turned out.”
I cock my head and glare at her.
“Hear me out,” Bea chides. “You’ve hit so many other bars and boarding houses that at some point it will become suspicious if it doesn’t happen here at least once. Plus, you don’t have to kill him. You can just pump him for information.”
I groan and smooth my hair. “Fine. Ruin my night off.” I nod to the board of hooks that hold keys to the rooms upstairs. “Give me number three.”
Bea tosses me the key and holds out my coat.
“I won’t be needing that,” I say with a grin as I slip through the curtain and into the bar.
I feel the man’s eyes on me as soon as I step into the light. Normally, I would try to be charming and flirtatious and wait until he suggests going upstairs, but my time is limited. Henry is probably back at Carrenwell House already. If I keep him waiting too long, he’ll come looking for me. I’m going to need to be more direct.
I step up beside the man. His blond hair is tied in a bun at the nape of his neck and his pale blue eyes hold a hazy, drunken sheen.
I lean in close. “I heard you’re one of them. That you work with—” I glance around the noisy bar and lower my voice. “Rochelli.”
He smirks, leans back, and holds a finger up to his smiling lips to indicate a need to be quieter. “I’m Shane. And what’s your name?”
“Gwen,” I say, leaning forward so my dress gaps. “I have to say. I was particularly disturbed by the part about the tithe. As a young woman, one can never be too careful when walking alone at night.”
His eyes slide down my body, pausing on my chest for a long moment before sliding lower. “You need to be very careful. These new, evolved Drained ones would love you. They say the beasts aren’t contentwith just blood anymore. They want flesh, too. The Carrenwells are all too happy to stave them off with women like yourself. A couple of working women is a small price to pay for them.”
I run my fingers down the embroidery on his button-down. “I have a room upstairs. I thought maybe we could discuss the details.Privately. For safety, of course.”
His eyes light up. “It would be my honor to help protect a beautiful woman like yourself, assuming, of course, we can come to a mutually agreeable price.”
“Meet me in room three in two minutes and we can talk terms.” I draw back, letting my fingernails scrape down his shirt as I walk away.
I cut through the bar, down the hallway in the back, and up the stairs to the second floor. The number three on the third door on the right of the dim hallway hangs slightly askew. I unlock the door and let myself into the simple room. There’s a single bed to the right of the door. On the far wall, a wooden chair sits next to a matching table in front of a fireplace.
Bea must have sent Josie up to start a fire, because it’s already bright and the room is warmer than I was expecting.
I check my appearance in the mirror hanging on the wall by the door. The bright red stain on my lips is still perfect. I pinch my cheeks to give the illusion of a flush.
A knock sounds at the door, and I rush to answer it.
As soon as I crack it open, he’s on me. Shane grabs my arm and tugs me toward the bed. Stupid of me to let my guard down just because he’s drunk.
I twist and break his hold. “I was thinking you could sit in that chair there while I slip out of my dress.”
“I thought I could have it however I like. I’m good for it. I want you to sit on my face,” he says.
His words are slurred. He’s drunker than I thought.
