Bitter Black Kiss (2 page)

“And why would I care?” The plastic creaked beneath her grip. “I’m not interested in you or your shitty band.”

“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t like another shot.”

Nicole hung up on him. It didn’t matter if he was referring to another shot at her career or with him. Either way, she wasn’t interested.

She knocked on Mr. Stone’s office door.

It wasn’t Stone, but his bodyguard Tony, who opened the door. He wore his hair buzzed close to the scalp and the constant scowl kept his appearance at its malicious best. The pinkish-white scar near his left eye did little to dissuade the bad-ass look.

Nicole sank into the visitor’s chair. “Where’s Mr. Stone?”

Tony moved to the other side of the desk. He clasped his hands in front of his stocky body, but she could still see a lump beneath his jacket. He didn’t need a weapon. Tony was Lycanthrope, thus stronger and faster than any human.

Tony regarded her with a scowl. “He stepped out.”

His attention settled on her knees. She tugged the skirt down to cover them. To hide her discomfort, she glanced around the office. Just like last time, black frames held familiar photos and the same books lined the shelves. A life-size bronze wolf still sat in the corner.

“Will he be back soon?”

Tony’s gold tooth glinted. “Yeah, but he isn’t happy you made him wait.”

“Something came up.”

He grinned, jiggled the hand in his pocket, and cast another look at her legs. "Yeah, I'm sure it did. I saw you out there with the DJ."

The door swished open behind them, and Tony’s eyes snapped toward the sound.

Nicole was more than happy for the interruption. So much so, she muttered an apology for her lateness.

Mr. Stone looked elegant in an expensive black suit and deep blue tie. His pale blond hair was neat, not a strand out of place. He sank into the plush leather chair behind the desk. “Apology accepted. Wasn't Amy supposed to meet us as well?"

Nicole nodded. "I'm surprised she isn't here. She wanted the hostess job, Mr. Stone."

He folded his hands atop the desk. “How long have you worked for me, Nicole?”

“Six months?” She wasn’t worried that he’d fire her for being late just this once, and it wasn't her fault Amy hadn't shown up.

Her last performance evaluation had been outstanding. She ran the nightclub with competence and efficiency. The Wolf’s Den, his gentleman’s club, almost ran itself. It was supposed to be a temporary position, just until they could find someone else. But somehow it became indefinite. All she had to do was show up once in a while, check on the girls, and sometimes hire new ones. She always took care of the trivial problems and never involved him.

“Six months,” he repeated. “It just dawned on me that you’re one of the most important people in my life, and I don’t know you that well. Have dinner with me on Sunday night.”

Her brain buzzed with one excuse after another. He’d never indicated any interest in her personally. He’d taken a chance and hired her after the fiasco that was her last job. She didn’t want to give him any reason to ruin the reputation she was rebuilding. Not to mention, she didn’t have any interest in him other than what he could do for her career.

She sat up straighter in the chair. “I don’t think that's a good idea, sir.”

His voice dropped to an accusatory tone. “Is it because I’m Lycan?”

Yes, sort of
. “Of course not.”

Sean Stone was one of the few she'd met who embraced the changes in his life. He was open to her about it from the day she asked for a job. She didn’t know how to play this. Aside from the day he’d hired her, she’d spoken to him once every month. That was the equivalent of six times and nowhere near enough time to get to know the real Sean Stone. While Sean was attractive, her explicit fantasies centered on someone else.

Sean’s smile was one of practiced patience. “Is there someone else?”

He’d given her an easy way out. It wasn’t quite a lie, and she didn’t feel any regret in agreeing. She attempted to soften the let down with an apologetic smile. “I’m flattered, but I think there just might be.”

Tony guffawed. “Told you, boss. I never see her with a man. She always hangs out with that redheaded bartender.”

Nicole could just imagine them discussing her sexual orientation. Guys especially seemed to obsess over women being into each other. It didn’t matter to her one way or the other, but it did make her angry that they were discussing her sex life at all.

She pushed herself out of the chair.

“Sit down,” Sean’s demand forced her to grip the back of the chair.

Disgust gleamed in Tony’s eyes.

Sean said, “We were going to discuss the dancer?”

“Right, Amy Dahl. She dances at The Wolf’s Den.” She was met with a blank stare. “Her stage name is Baby Dahl? We talked about making her a hostess in one of the VIP lounges?”

Tony grinned and leaned closer to his boss. In a stage whisper, he said, “The black gal with the beautiful ass—gave a great blowjob.”

Sean rubbed his temples in a circular motion and sighed. “Tony, go downstairs and make sure Ramon doesn’t need help keeping peace on the floor. Also, make sure tomorrow’s shipments are being delivered as scheduled.”

The door closed behind Tony with a dull thump. Picture frames shimmied on the shelf. One of a younger Sean with a balding senator toppled over.

"You were saying?" Sean smoothed a hand across his hair. “Oh yes, the dancer. Are you sure she had the correct time for the meeting? It would be a shame if she missed out due to a mix up in schedules."

Nicole eased back into the chair. The truth was, she'd been unable to reach Amy earlier. The dancer seemed to have a good head on her shoulders, but acted a bit strange the last time she saw her. "This was a huge step for her. She knew how important it was, and I don't think she'd miss it on purpose."

Sean loosened his tie and tossed it onto the desk. “She probably received a better offer somewhere else. These dancers are a fickle bunch, Nicole. I wouldn't worry about it. Just find someone else."

"She just turned twenty. I kind of feel responsible for her, you know? She’s just a kid."

An odd look darkened his chiseled face. "She's just a dancer."

“I'd like to check in with her. Depending on the circumstances, I'd be willing to give her another chance."

“I trust your judgment.”

Nicole’s cell played its stupid tune again. She dug through her purse and silenced the phone before dropping it back inside. She wished Aaron would quit his mind games.

Sean’s smile relaxed. “Who was that and why do they have you upset?”

“No one important.” She ran trembling fingers through her hair then forced a guarded smile. “I used to manage his band.”

He raised an eyebrow. “He isn’t trying to steal you away, is he?”

Nicole forced a laugh. “Not a chance."

Sean stood and came to the end of the desk. He indicated that she should walk with him.

She fell into step beside him. Tony’s caustic laughter drowned out the baseball game playing on the lounge television.

“Oh, and Nicole? I’ll see you on Sunday.”

All signs of humor had left him.

Chapter Two

As Nicole eased her Mazda into the narrow slot, her headlights lit the face of the run down, three-story apartment. Cracked and peeling paint emphasized the decay of the crumbling bricks. The rusted metal stairs that led to the top floors were lopsided.

“I’ll be right back,” she said.

“It’s two in the morning, Nicky.” Molly’s face scrunched. “I don’t like the looks of this place. Can’t we just go home?”

“It’ll just take a minute. I promise.”

Molly’s face darkened with disapproval. “Are you out of your pills?”

“That’s not why I’m here. One of the dancers didn’t show up tonight.”

“So what? We aren’t on the best side of town, you know.”

"She blew off her chance to move into a hostess position tonight. Something has to be wrong. She wanted the job too bad. She wouldn’t just skip out on me."

Molly glanced up at the dark stairwell. The security lamp on the side of the building was burned out. “You want me to go up with you?”

“No, I’m just going to make sure she’s okay.” Nicole swung her legs out of the car. "Be back in a sec."

The door to Amy Dahl’s apartment stood ajar. Nicole paused on the third floor landing. Someone was sobbing inside.

“Hello?” She tapped the door and swallowed a lump of nervous energy. “Amy?” The musty scent of dirty, damp dog assaulted her senses. She inched forward and extended her hand in search of a light switch. A dull yellow glow bathed the room, and an eerie silence replaced the crying.

The couch was tipped onto its side. The mutilated cushions bled foam and springs. Cheap end tables lay broken and scattered with their useless legs skewed skyward. Pieces of a shattered lamp lay on the threadbare carpet, and another had lost its shade.

A few steps to the left brought her into the kitchenette. Every cabinet door hung open. The contents dumped on the floor and the counters. Though the refrigerator’s contents were gutted, it hadn’t started to give off a rancid odor. She touched the smashed tub of margarine. It was still cool to the touch.

Common sense demanded she leave, but she didn’t listen. Caution guided her down the dark hallway.

“Amy? It’s Nicole Riley.” She snapped on the bedroom light. This room was in the same state as the others. The dresser and nightstands were destroyed. The stained mattress littered with its contents. A spider web crack split the center of the mirror. Dirty clothes, stuffed animals, and a pink vibrator cluttered the floor.

She dug through her purse and focused on breathing. Once she found the cell phone, she dialed Amy’s number yet again. Somewhere in all the disorder a happy tune played. “Shit.”

A wooden jewelry box lay smashed in the bathroom doorway. Cheap trinkets lay crushed into the matted carpet. A shower curtain with a pink flamingo pattern was crumpled on the floor. Toiletries lay broken on top of it. A dark smear of blackish blood ran up the side of the tub. Bits of hair and something that resembled chicken fat lay in a bloody puddle.

“God no.” Nicole’s hands shook, and she broke into a cold sweat. She gripped both sides of the sink and fought a wave of nausea.

She could only speculate on what had happened here, and none of it was pleasant. Movement in the mirror’s reflection forced her head up. There was someone crouched between the toilet and linen rack. She turned to face the woman in the corner.

Plastic crunched beneath her shoe. She spotted the crushed syringe, and her lip pulled up in disgust. She kicked it away. “What the hell did you take, Amy?”

Dried tears crusted Amy Dahl’s dark eyes. Her brown hands picked at the tattered skin of her left knee.

“I’m calling an ambulance.”

Amy’s head whipped up. She struggled to crawl out of the nook she’d crammed herself in. She used the back of a grimy hand to wipe her nose. Blackened blood stained the jagged, fake nails affixed to the tips of her fingers. “I still smell him all over me.”

Nicole tilted her head toward the tub and the chunk of flesh. “Is that what I think it is? God, Amy did you have a miscarriage?”

“No.” Amy made a bitter sound somewhere between a laugh and a moan. She pressed a slender hand to her temple and her fingers plucked out thick strands of hair. Some were bloody, with scalp attached.

Her arms and chest were smeared scarlet. Scratches ran the length of her ribcage, and an angry bruise darkened her left cheekbone.

Another wad of hair fell next to the toe of Nicole’s black suede pump.

“Okay, you’ve got to stop that.” She scanned the room for anything to throw over Amy. Finding nothing appropriate, she reached for the towel rack instead.

Amy’s eyes widened, and she batted Nicole’s hand away. “Don’t touch me!”

A growl rattled up Amy’s throat. It wasn’t the type of noise a human could make. Nicole took a step backward, eager to put some distance between them.

Her throat burned with emotion. Whatever trouble Amy found must have been more than the girl could handle on her own. What’s more, she’d had no idea that the dancer was an addict. She must be on one hell of a bad trip.

Amy’s wide eyes searched the hallway beyond the cramped room. Her pupils dilated, and her nostrils flared. The skin around her eyes and nose slithered with a life of its own.

Nicole moved a slow hand toward her purse. “I’m going to call for help then we can get you cleaned up.” 

“Help?” She reached out and stopped Nicole’s hand. “You can’t help me. No one can."

Amy’s awareness drifted toward the front of the apartment. “Help yourself and get out while you can. He’s still here. I can smell him.”

“There’s no one else here, Amy.” The hair atop Nicole’s head danced with apprehension. She lifted her chin and sniffed. All she could smell was Amy’s blood.

Amy cocked her head at a severe angle, a weird grimace on her face. “You ever been screwed by one of them?” She motioned toward the area between her legs. “A human body can’t accommodate.”

Nicole’s mouth fell open in revulsion. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Tears you apart,” Amy muttered more to herself than to Nicole.

A floorboard creaked at the front of the house. Her first instinct was to get the hell out of there, but she didn’t want to leave Amy alone. She was torn between self-preservation and protection, even though Amy didn't want assistance. But Nicole needed to make a decision quick because the smell of Amy’s blood and the thing in the tub was freaking her out.

“I’m not your problem.” Amy sucked in a shaky breath. Her eyes were wide and wild. “I don’t know if I can control it. I can feel it inside, and it wants out. It might feel better to let it out.”

The edge of the sink bit into Nicole’s spine. “You’ve got to try and hold it back.”

“He did this to me.” The girl’s laugh was shaky, and her eyes took on a manic glaze. A burst of energy thrust her forward, and she pinned Nicole between the sink and tub. Amy’s voice rose into a shrill scream. “You can’t steal from him. You’ll wish you were dead if you do.”

“Who?”

The dancer's movement mimicked Nicole’s. Lifting her hand, Amy fingered her collarbone instead. Her nails gouged ragged holes into the flesh. “He got me hooked and now I can’t quit. That’s why I did it. I wanted to make him pay.”

“What did you do?” Nicole struggled to understand.

Amy snapped her teeth together, and the sound echoed off the tiled walls. Her body shuddered, and her limbs jumped. “I can’t hold it back. I don’t want to hold it back.”

Nicole wanted to run from the room, but two people in a cramped enclosure didn’t allow for much maneuverability.

“I thought he cared about me, but he just used me up.” Amy tore more of her flesh away. “He screwed me then dumped me. I just took what he owes me.”

The flash of bone beneath Amy’s working fingers stilled Nicole’s breath.

Amy giggled, and it reminded her of a kid on a sugar high. “There’s fur inside. Want to see?”

Nicole gripped her wrist. “You’re going to the hospital. Come with me.”

Amy’s head whipped up, and her teeth latched onto Nicole’s forearm. She knocked her away. “I’m trying to help you!”

“Get your hands off me!” Amy bared bloodied teeth.

The floorboards creaked again. Someone moved down the hallway, toward the bedroom. Had Molly come to see what was taking so long?

Amy’s eyes flashed with threat. Nostrils flared and growl boiled up from her throat. “Watch out!”

An enormous silvery-white wolf’s head pushed into the cramped space. Nicole screamed. Never in a million years would she get used to the idea that sometimes these monstrosities didn't change into a full wolf. Instead, they teetered on the precipice between wolf and man.

The creature's back hunched as it peered into the bathroom. Its ears were laid back, a snarl on its furred face. Frothy saliva dripped from its chin and curled tongue. It took a step forward.

She and Amy were in trouble. Nicole steadied herself against the wall, and the cool steel of the towel bar cooled her palm. She closed her fist around the rod and jerked it from the wall. 

Amy dropped onto hands and knees. Coarse, dark hair sprouted from her bare shoulders. Her limbs cracked and popped while her fingers curled into claws. Nicole wished to be anywhere but in the middle of this dog fight. A sound that reminded her of meat being sucked off the bone filled the room.

The white wolf lunged.

“Leave us alone!” Nicole swung the bar, desperate to keep the monster out.

It cracked against the creature’s forehead, but did little damage. Mostly, it just pissed him off.

The Lycan’s broad shoulders splintered the doorframe. He swiped a paw the size of a catcher’s mitt at Nicole. She stumbled backward and fell into the tub.

Nicole righted herself in time to see the Amy-wolf drag herself off the floor. She rushed past on wolfish legs. Amy snapped and lunged at the creature. She darted past and left Nicole alone in the bathroom. The white wolf glanced at her then whirled to chase after Amy.

The room smelled of wet dog and a puddle of pinkish, viscous fluid spotted the floor near the toilet.

Nicole sprinted in the same direction. Claws clicked on the metal stairs then ended abruptly. A car alarm went off somewhere on the lot.

She thundered down the stairs and ran for the car. The shriek of metal quickened her step.

Molly had just opened the door and started to get out.

“Get in the car!”

Molly’s eyes filled with confusion and fear, but she did as told.

Nicole engaged the Mazda’s locks. There was no sign of Amy or her visitor. Though the owner of the screaming car never came outside, the alarm was silenced.

“What the hell just happened?” Molly asked from the passenger seat. “You look scared to death.”

After two tries, Nicole inserted the key into the ignition. Molly stared open mouthed as Nicole described Amy.

“Holy shit, she changed right in front of you?”

Nicole twisted to face Molly. “Yeah, and she was bat-shit crazy. Did you see anyone go up the stairs?”

Molly shrugged and pointed to the book on the dash. “What happened up there, Nicky?”

She stared at the stairs. “Someone else was there…in wolf form.”

Molly searched the darkness beyond the car. “Let’s just go, okay?”

“What if that thing kills her? She’s my responsibility.”

“Maybe at work, but her social life isn’t.”

Nicole had already turned her attention to the lot. She scanned the shadows for any sign of Amy or the white wolf. “I don’t even know which way she went.”

“Just call the police.” Molly’s cheeks flushed. “We aren’t prepared to deal with wolves Nicole. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Okay.” Nicole started the car with an angry twist. A sideways glance proved Molly was still scowling. “I said okay!”

“Look.” Molly pointed to the stairs. Someone in a beat-up brown leather jacket climbed them two at a time. Judging by the width of the shoulders and height, it was a man. He kept himself to the shadows to avoid being seen. “Does she have a roommate or boyfriend?”

If it was the boyfriend, Nicole didn’t want to stick around. Not after what Amy said he’d done. “That can’t be the same guy as the wolf, right?”