“You don’t have to come with me,” I repeated for the fifth time, giving Jay an exasperated look. I’d made the mistake of texting him about my plans, and he’d showed up on my doorstep twenty minutes later, dressed for clubbing but doing his best to dissuade me 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,” I joked, flipping my shoulder-length hair upside down to work in some mousse. My reddish-blond strands were naturally fine and straight, but if I put enough product in them, I could achieve some sexy waves. Sexy wasn’t a look I 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 I’d read online, they liked their human sex partners to be nearly as good-looking as they were.

I was fairly certain I didn’t fit that criteria, but I was hoping that with enough makeup—and with contacts instead of glasses—I’d look pretty enough to be allowed 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.” I straightened and began applying mascara to my 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. 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,” I muttered, swiping blush onto my 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 me 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.” I grinned at him in the mirror. “Why would they take me on a spaceship?”

“Who knows?” he said, plopping down on my couch. “Maybe they like cute, green-eyed blondes who wear glasses to work to seem smarter.”

“Mmm, yes. I’m just their type.” Laughing, I smoothed my hands down my blue, form-fitting dress. With my curvy hips, I wasn’t exactly model material, though I was generally happy with my figure. It helped that my ex-boyfriends seemed to enjoy a rounder ass; one of them even claimed it was his favorite part of my 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.” I 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, I gave him a level look. “I’m doing this—and you can either join me or go home.”