For the second time today, Naia entered Ever Nights. The atmosphere had changed. That bartender had said to come after-hours. For normal people, that would be weird, but vampires were night-crawlers. Most of the business they did was by the cusp of the moon.

She tugged at the hem of her ridiculously short red dress with a V in the front that displayed her cleavage. Goldie had practically insisted she wear it tonight. Naia had told her she was going on a date. She hated lying to her friend, but couldn’t see any other option when she had asked to borrow something, ahem, sexy.

Though it was late, the club was hopping, dance music blasting, burlesque in full swing with a trio of flexible ladies on stage doing an impressive acrobatic routine using black hanging fabric. Goodness, the muscle strength needed to move like that! No wonder this place was so popular. The entertainment was light years beyond The Pit.

Dante had to be losing money because of this place.

A smart business man would visit his competition, take notes, up his game. Dante wasn’t dumb, so either he couldn’t afford to provide better entertainment, or he didn’t want to. That meant he was looking for an easier option, hence her infiltration. He wanted to crush this place to dust.

If Dante’s accusations were correct, Cortez and anyone else complicit in his crimes deserved it. If she found something worth finding, she’d relay it without bias. But if Cortez was clean, she’d still have done her job, right? Dante couldn’t fault her if there was nothing illegal going down here.

By the same token, he couldn’t expect her to be Naia The Super Spy. You don’t send in an amateur if you’re looking for gold. Still, she’d do her best to get the job done. In the meantime, she could potentially be working alongside this town’s elite talent! Making connections.

Win, win.

She glanced around in search of the bartender from earlier, but a different man was behind the bar now. She was oddly disappointed. She hoped he told Cortez to expect her like he’d said he would. By their flippant exchange, she had to wonder if he’d just been screwing with her. There had definitely been a teasing light to his eyes.

Just then she spotted the bartender in a side room with an open archway. He glided around a pool table holding a cue stick.

A few other big guys were with him. Two were smiling and drinking while a third lined up his shot.

She crossed toward them, avoiding the enamored crowd as the three women on stage wound their toned bodies up those drapes and then spun precariously to the ground in a gracefully coordinated display. Stunning.

The sharp crack of a ball being struck greeted her as she stepped over the threshold. A striped ball met the corner pocket with authority.

“Nice shot,” she said.

All eyes turned to her, and she wondered if she wasn’t welcome. She glanced at the bartender, willing him to recognize her from this morning. A weird kind of tension stole through his body.

“Christ,” he muttered, taking his time scanning her body.

Well, at least she’d nailed the sexy part.

“Thanks,” said the man who had just sunk his shot. “Can I buy you a drink?” He had a surfer’s style, loose shorts, shaggy hair, and a boyish grin synonymous with lazy days on a beach. He reminded her a little of Cole. Except the look he was giving her was so not brotherly.

“Actually, I’m here on business.” She slanted her gaze back to her acquaintance. Damn, he looked even more handsome than before, if that were possible. He’d changed into a black sweater that lovingly hugged each and every muscle in his torso. The sleeves were bunched above his elbows, displaying strong forearms lightly dusted with hair. His short haircut was somewhat messier than before, as though he’d been running his hands through it all day, but it looked good on him, and combined with that five o’clock shadow, it gave him an edge. Their eyes locked and she nearly groaned. She’d been hoping she’d imagined that whiskey iridescent hue.

“You said I could meet with Cortez,” she reminded him lightly.

The other men seemed to go stiff. They glanced between her and the bartender. Was it unusual to try and get a meeting with the club’s owner?

“I did. Stick around and have a drink. You can have your meeting later. For now, I’ll be doing the pre-interview.”

“Pre-interview?” she asked, incredulous. “And you want me to drink?” She smelled bullshit.

“We are in a club, after all. If you can’t handle your alcohol, then it’s not the best place for you to be working, is it?”

The others went back to focusing on the game, but there was an underlying strain among them. She tried not to let it make her uneasy.

This time when the surfer shot, he scratched, and the cue ball found a home in a side pocket. The bartender was up next. He scanned for a clean shot.

“I wouldn’t be drinking while I work,” she pointed out.

The bartender replied, “You might. Patrons love to buy shots for our female employees. And the more drinks they buy, the more money we make.” He lined up his shot: seven ball, corner pocket. Of course he sunk it. She’d lose respect for him if he’d missed such an elementary shot.

Years ago, while her mother had bartended, she and her brother would have nothing better to do than hover around the pool table. At first it had just been a game. Something to do to pass the time while they waited for their mother’s shift to end. Then they’d discovered how to hustle, and what a team they’d made.

The bartender stood and gestured for a server. A petite blonde in pigtails and micro mini skirt bounced over. “You boys need another round?”

“Yes, luv, and whatever she wants.” He gestured to her.

The waitress sent her an assessing look that held a hint of surprise and curiosity.

Naia didn’t need to be getting tipsy on an interview, no matter what this bartender thought was appropriate. “Water would be fine.”

Groans all around.

Surfer Guy said, “Don’t be so stuffy.” While the other two just shook their heads in derision. The bartender, leaning over the table with the cue resting on his left hand, raised a contentious brow at her. Apparently she was bombing this pre-interview.

“Fine.” To appease them, she ordered a beer.

Peer pressure was a bitch.

“There’s a girl,” The bartender faced the table and swiftly landed his shot: Four ball, side pocket.

“And a water,” she called after the waitress.

The bartender scowled, but said nothing, making his last shot and winning the game. “Rack ‘em up,” he said to the others. He approached her then, and she was suddenly acutely aware of his size. She had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. His wide shoulders gave him a natural way of looming, even though he’d buffered several feet between them.

Even still, as if some sort of primitive instinct were warding her away, she nearly stepped back, but held her ground.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

Briefly she wondered if she should provide her stage name or her real name. She decided on the latter. “Naia. Yours?”

“If all goes well for you, you can call me Boss Man. But for now, Sir will do.”

“You want me to call you sir?” The arrogance!

The other men hid amused smiles behind their drinks. They were screwing with her, she decided. Perhaps there was no meeting later with Cortez. Either that or they were hazing her.

Maybe that was a good thing. Like coworkers hazing the newbie. You didn’t haze a potential coworker if you didn’t plan to hire them, right? Unless these guys were just dicks.

In any case, she had nothing better to do than play along while she waited to find out. Seven grand, she chanted in her head. But there was no way she was calling this guy sir in any kind of serious manner.

“Well, what can I call you if I beat your ass in pool? Would chump work for you?”

All four men swung surprised gazes at her. Surfer Boy eagerly handed over his stick. “I have to see this.”

The other two backed up against the wall as if she’d thrown down a gauntlet.

With an amused expression, the bartending prick fanned his hand out toward the pool table. “Racked and ready, luv. Be my guest.”

Oh, it was on. First break? Yes please.

Swiping the stick from Surfer, she sauntered to the table. The felt was practically new, and she had the urge to run her hand over the surface of it. Dante’s pool tables were worn to the base and slightly lopsided, which made every shot a surprise, no matter how good the player.

Aiming the cue ball, she steadied her shot. The weight of the stick in her right hand was familiar, calling up memories of bygone days with Cole. Hustling and drinking and laughing. Not a care in the world.

God, she missed those lazy days.

However, while she’d been in it for fun; Cole had been in it for the money, hustling bigger and bigger fish. It was a wonder he hadn’t gotten in trouble sooner. She’d called it quits when their shenanigans caused Cole to get his ass seriously kicked one night. Not that he hadn’t had his share of ass-whoopings, but that night had been particularly bad.

Even Naia’s easy smile and sex-pot voice hadn’t been enough to cool the rage of a drunkard who’d just lost a pocket full of cash to them. What she and Cole hadn’t known was the man they’d hustled was a vampire. One who didn’t like to lose. Outside the bar, he’d beaten Cole soundly as she’d watched in horror, helpless to help. Worse, someone had called their mother out to the alley for the last two meaty pummels to Cole’s face before the vampire let him drop to the ground, unconscious.

To add insult, before walking away, the vampire tossed some bills onto Cole’s unmoving body. It had taken a week before Cole could see out of his swollen right eye. Another month before he was back to hustling, but after that, she had lost her taste for it entirely, and from then on had only played for her own enjoyment.

The whole experience should have taught her not to mess around with those of the pointy-tooth variety. Yet here she was.

Seven grand.

Though she knew she should go easy, her pride demanded she wipe the floor with these guys. Put an end to this jock-fest ribbing, maybe earn a little respect right out of the gate.

Tightening her grip on the base of the stick, she rammed it forward, striking the cue ball hard. It rocketed into the triangle gathered at the other end of the table. Balls exploded in every direction, ricocheting off one another and the bumpers. Three of them found homes: the one, the four, and the nine. Two stripes and a solid.

The bartender’s friends hooted with jubilance, claiming nearby stools as if settling in for a show.

She faced the head jerk with a cocky grin, wanting to see the surprise on his face as well. But that wasn’t what she found. In its place was something else she couldn’t decipher, something that had her body growing warmer under his intense gaze.

“I’ll take solids,” she chirped, then turned back to read the table.

The waitress arrived then, carrying a tray of drinks. She fluttered around the room, passing them out to everyone and finally setting Naia’s beer and water down on a side table before making herself scarce.

Before the guys could jibe her, she took a hard pull from her beer. A couple sips would cool her nerves.

“Cheers,” Surfer called and followed her lead. “Now kick his ass, girly.”

She planned to do just that.

“Whose side are you on?” The bartender snapped.

“Hers,” replied Surfer Boy with a duh hanging at the end of his tone. The other men shrugged and nodded their agreement.

“Bunch of turncoats.”

She grinned at that. Maybe these guys weren’t so bad after all.

A moment of assessing the table, and she had her game plan set. This would be a clean sweep. Her next two shots went in without a hitch: the two and the three.

The bartender decided now was the time to question her. “So you were pretty adamant earlier that Cortez would want to hire you. Well, what is it you do?”

Straightening, she leaned on her cue stick. “I’m a singer.”

He waited as if there should be more.

“And I have waitress experience. But singing is really what I love.”

He glanced out into the main room where those talented women were flying around the stage in a wide circle while twining their fabrics together.

Naia swallowed, feeling suddenly inadequate. “It might not be as exciting as Cirque du Soleil over there, but I’m good.” Better than good. While she pulled strength from a crowd, she could feed it right back to them, energizing them as well, lighting them up with excitement and passion. It was a marvel to see, according to Cole.

“Hm,” was all the bartender said.

Did he think she was just talking herself up? Well, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting face time with Cortez. Dante had assured her once Cortez met with her, he would want to hire her. How Dante was so sure, she didn’t know, but she had to assume he knew what he was talking about. Why else choose her for this covert mission?

All serious now, she lined up her next shot.

From behind her, the bartender asked, “When did you learn to play?”

The girl who used to hustle spoke, “Oh, I only learned recently. Pretty sure I’m still riding beginner’s luck.”

He snorted. She glanced back at him. Nearly gasped. His eyes were fixed on her backside. While hustling a group of men, she’d often purposely bend a little too far for effect. Redirecting a little blood away from the brain tended to handicap men. But this time hadn’t been intentional, and flames entered her cheeks. It didn’t help that she’d never played pool in such a short dress.

She quickly shook it off. Look all you like. It could only help her win. “You don’t believe me?”

“I’d sooner believe the sky was purple.”

“I’ve seen that happen you know. Usually at sunset.” She re-focused on the table and made her shot. The six ball bounced off the ten and then slowed, hovering just on the edge of the pocket she’d been aiming for. A breath later, it fell in like a co-ed who’d had one tequila shot too many.

Dang that was close. Head in the game, Naia. Her next shot was on the mark. She wanted to gloat, but the bartender just stood there, raking his gaze over her body as if he didn’t care he was getting smoked. His lids were heavy and his gaze was on her in a way that made her feel stripped. It was unnerving. It was intriguing. She tried to ignore it, figuring he was just attempting to throw her off her game, but every time she glanced his way, his penetrating eyes were lapping her up.

Men had looked at her in a similar fashion, but not quite like this. While other men’s eyes might be filled with lust, his burned with something more.

Usually she could shrug off such intense attention, but her body seemed to be responding on a primal level. Her skin became over sensitized, prickling as though being caressed wherever his gaze landed. Thankfully the somewhat thick fabric of her dress hid her puckered nipples. She couldn’t help imagine what he might do were she alone with him...

Thoughts like that were dangerous. Draw too much interest from a vampire and you’re likely to wind up down a few pints with a ghastly neck wound. Not exactly her idea of a good time, even if he was hot as hell with a voice that stoked a slow furnace within her.

Goldie had admitted to dating a few vampires. Once, with a dreamy look, she’d admitted to Naia the experience was like nothing she could explain, following up with a shiver and a sigh.

And why had that thought popped into her head?

“Tell me how long you’ve really been playing,” he said, interrupting her mind’s descent into the gutter.

“Very well,” she said. “The truth is I’ve been playing my whole life.” Until recently. Lately all she had time for was work.

“Clearly. You haven’t missed a shot yet.”

“Getting worried, Sir?” She made her tone mocking.

His friends chuckled.

“Not at all, Naia.” Her name on his tongue shouldn’t sound so good. “In fact, I’m thoroughly enjoying my beating.” He pointedly scanned her body again. Again warmth bloomed in her, and again she regretted her dress choice. She should have donned something more professional rather than following the bartender’s dictate. She still wasn’t sure if he was messing with her for his own amusement. But another glance at his expression said he might actually be into her.

It was disconcerting what a simple look was doing to her. Was this merely a chemical attraction or was he working some of his vampire mojo on her? Rumor had it they could hypnotize anyone into doing anything they wanted. She shuddered.

It wouldn’t be a major leap to think a certain type of vampire might abuse that kind of power.

She suddenly worried she was in way over her head with this lot.

With that in mind, she checked the clock on the wall. More than thirty minutes had passed since she’d arrived. “When might I be able to meet with Cortez?”

The three men in the corner all seemed to get very thirsty in that moment, and they found the surrounding walls quite interesting. By their reactions, she was willing to bet Cortez wasn’t even coming.

“Getting tired of my company already, luv?” the bartender said. “Got another interview after this? Or perhaps a date is waiting on you? I know I said to dress sexy,”—he gestured to her outfit—“but this is ridiculous.”

“Is something wrong with my outfit?” Damn it, she told Goldie it was overkill, but the second her friend had heard date, she’d been gung ho.

He blinked at her. “Wrong?” He stepped into her personal space, his face coming inches from her ear so that only she could hear. “You look out-of-this-world mouthwateringly delicious.” Before she realized what he intended, he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.

She sucked in a breath, her heart speeding up. She knew he could hear it.

Yanking her hand away, she cursed the flush creeping into her cheeks. “You’re just trying to make me miss my last shot.” She only needed to sink the eight ball to win.

“Perhaps.” He shrugged, his lips twisting into a crooked grin. “It’s only fair since it took you a mere second to floor me with this stunning dress.”

Needing a moment, and some distance, she turned to take another swig from her beer. Head in the game.

As if he knew his words were getting to her, continued. “I thought you were beautiful before, but I was wrong. You’re positively gorgeous.” She glanced back at him. His gaze was eating her up. “And that blush you’re building up is making you even more so. Does your man not compliment you enough?”

“I don’t have a man,” she blurted, instantly regretting her words.

The other three men sat silently, their eyes volleying between her and the bartender. Curiosity lit their expressions. They almost appeared surprised by this interaction.

The bartender cocked a brow. “No man? But you must have many admirers.”

“Sure,” she said flippantly. If you count salivating pervs as admirers. If she had a dollar every time a guy tried to pinch her ass while she delivered their drinks, she’d be able to afford a better apartment.

“I assume you have a date later, though?”

“That’s really none of your business.”

“I wouldn’t want your meeting with the boss to intrude on your busy social life.”

“Is this a fishing expedition or an interview? If you must know, I do have a date.” With a bed. She was beat. Today seemed to have gone on for ages. “But it can wait till after my meeting with Cortez, though I’m starting to doubt there even is a meeting. Admit it, Cortez isn’t even here, is he?”

“Oh, he’s here,” Surfer Boy gave a hearty laugh. “And he’s getting his ass handed to him.”

One of his buddies punted him in the chest.

Naia got a sinking feeling then. She faced the bartender suspiciously. His expression was shuddered.

At that same moment, the pigtailed waitress entered. “Hey Cortez, do you need anything else before I clock out for the night?”

Naia’s lips parted on a breath. No. Her eyes snapped to his...to Cortez.

To the waitress, he said, “We’re fine, Cindy. Have a good night.”

Cindy nodded and then scurried out of sight. It took Naia what seemed like an eternity to regain her composure. “You’re Cortez?”

At length he nodded, then winked.

If she didn’t need this job, she might have slapped him.