***
“Shit,” she cursed aloud.
She had nothing to wear.
“Why did I have to listen to them?” she complained out loud, rifling through her closet once more, trying to find something, anything that would be appropriate for the evening.
There was nothing. Arianna Jones did not go clubbing. She went to the sports bar three blocks away and drank beer and played pool. That was her lifestyle, and even then, that was when she had some extra cash to burn, which wasn’t very often.
The double doors to her closet hung open. The racks were filled and hangers covered the open space. But it was all T-shirts and jeans. There were no dresses. She wasn’t comfortable wearing them. No skirts either. Frowning, she picked out the cleanest shirt she could find, and put on a pair of jeans that, though not skinny jeans, at least didn’t hang off of her like most of the ones she preferred.
I showered and washed my hair. How much more can be expected of me anyway? It’s not like Mr. Handso—Ajax—is going to be focused on me anyway. There’s going to be a veritable buffet awaiting someone like him when he walks inside.
Whipping the outfit on, she breathed a sigh of relief that it still fit since she hadn’t worn either in quite some time. Arianna proceeded to pull her hair back into its customary tight ponytail, and then settled her glasses on her face.
“Good enough,” she muttered, grabbing her purse and pencil from the shelf near the door. The beaten red purse fell comfortably across her shoulder and the pencil clipped easily to the pocket on the right side of her shirt. All of Arianna’s shirts had pockets on the breast. She had to carry her pencil somewhere handy. Pockets worked best.
A quick call summoned a taxi to her house a few minutes later.
“Route Fifty,” she told him, then pointedly ignored the astonished stare the driver gave her.
After a minute of hesitation he shrugged and headed out. Arianna barely noticed. Her mind was elsewhere. She was focused on the issue at hand. What the hell had happened to Benjamin? But there was more to it than that. If the government or a corporation had taken him and the other shifters, and they were experimenting on them—if those were true—the question then changed.
What the hell are they trying to accomplish?
She made a mental note to ask Ajax about that, to see if he had heard any rumors about what they might be trying to do with the shifters when they got them. Mind control, perhaps? To use them to sneak into various places and perform assassinations? It seemed unlikely to most, but Arianna lived in the world of unlikely, impossible, and “I don’t believe that.” There was far more going on than most people were willing to admit.
“Route Fifty,” the taxi driver said as they pulled up in front of the nightclub twenty minutes later.
Once again ignoring his look, she paid him and got out, extremely conscious of how much money she was putting out to chase down this lead. Taxis were not cheap.
The first thing that hit her was the noise. Or lack thereof. Arianna had expected the whole building and area nearby to be practically thumping with the bass of club music. Instead, she could hear people chatting excitedly while they waited in line to get in. There was the sound of expensive cars as well, pulling up in front. She watched as several foreign sports cars, each likely worth more than she would ever be, pulled up, disgorging men in fancy suits and copious amounts of scantily clad women.
“This is ridiculous. I don’t belong here,” she muttered, turning to go. She would let Ajax handle this end of things. It would be perfect for him. She put her head down and headed back down the sidewalk.
“Hey, where you going?”
She looked up to see Ajax standing in front of her, arms spread wide. The first thing that stuck out was his suit.
“Where did you get that from?” she asked. He had been wearing a black T-shirt and jeans the day before.
Now he was wearing a very expensive-looking suit. It was a dark silver-metallic gray with black piping and silver pinstripes. Under it was a dark purple shirt, unbuttoned at the top, sans tie. Glossy black shoes completed the ensemble.
“You said this place was upscale,” he said with a frown. “So I went and got something.”
“Just like that?” she asked, looking him over again. He looked good. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to know how much it had cost.
“Well, I found a suit store, got measured, had it tailored. So I mean, it didn’t just come off a rack.” He looked confused. “Why? Is something wrong?”
“No, no,” she said, wondering if it was possible for her to be any more self-conscious than she already was. It seemed unlikely, but life kept surprising her.
“Okay, so, should we go in then? I got us on the guest list.”
Arianna’s eyebrows shot up. “You did? How did you manage that? This place is supposed to have a guest list months in advance!”
He shrugged. “I talked the talk,” he said, falling in step beside her, all but forcing her to turn back and head toward the door.
“You bribed someone, you mean,” she said, picking up on his meaning.
“Bribing is such a…nasty-sounding word, don’t you think?” he said, tossing her a wink that made her stomach flip flop in place. “Let’s just say that I came to a mutual agreement with one of the excellent employees.”
Arianna looked at him in askance, but didn’t protest the point any longer. In fact, this one worked in her favor. It meant she didn’t have to wait in line while being subjected to judgmental glares from the other women about what she was—or in this case was not—wearing. They could be in and out sooner, which meant she could go home sooner.
True to Ajax’s word, he gave his name to the doorman and they were immediately ushered inside. They passed through several layers of glass and other soundproofed walls. Once they emerged past the last, that’s when the music hit her.
“Weird.”
“What’s that?” Ajax asked as they scanned the club.
“I expected the music to be louder.” It was loud, but they were carrying on a normal conversation, only having to raise their voices slightly to be heard.
“Me too,” he said. “Okay, come on, let’s go.”
Arianna glanced at him, then his outstretched arm, then back up at him. “What’s this for?”
“Take my arm. Act like we’re together. It’ll allow us to blend better with the crowd.”
“Us? Blend?” She looked around at all the women in short dresses or skirts, dancing on every conceivable surface she could find. “Do you see this?” she waved at them. “And this?” she waved at herself.
“Yes, I do,” he said seriously, as if he didn’t care. “Now come be my date for the evening and let’s scope this joint out.”
Who is this guy? She asked herself, caving and taking his arm, careful not to caress his strongly muscled arm as she allowed herself to be escorted away from the entrance. The pair plunged into the sea of people, allowing the atmosphere to cascade over them.
The question of just who Ajax was reverberated in her mind. He remained intent and focused, his concentration never slipping, despite the copious amounts of eye candy on display. There were several women that Arianna found herself distracted by, yet Ajax never seemed to care. His attention was on the club itself, and her. Always making sure that she was with him, never allowing her to get left behind when they couldn’t stay linked together.
It was…chivalrous of him. That was the best word to describe his actions she decided, even if it didn’t entirely fit.
“So, where do we begin?” she asked once they had made a half circuit around the club.
“There,” he said, nodding his head across to the far side.
He didn’t point, and as her eyes focused on where he was looking, Arianna realized why.