Love Me Darkly, page 8
part #1 of Behind The Veil #1 Series
Mateo stared down at his Scotch, resisting the urge to glance over at the VIP section of the club. If he watched the people sitting there too closely, it would draw attention to him and Donovan. Beside him, his partner sat nursing a rum and Coke, his gaze also averted. Somewhere on the first floor, Smith kept his eyes peeled for any activity that might be construed as the sale of flesh. In a club where known traffickers hung out, it wasn’t impossible, and he wanted to get a feel for how these guys operated. Williams sat at the bar with a martini glass in hand, dressed like most of the other women in the club to blend in.
In a delivery van parked a few blocks away, Jones sat with a handful of agents from the New Orleans field office. They were to listen in and record everything the wiretap picked up. That afternoon, a technical surveillance unit had been deployed to install listening devices in each of the VIP booths of Solstice. Judge Renaud had come through in record time, but had restricted their wiretaps to VIP, stating there wasn’t yet enough probable cause to access any of the back rooms. It was Mateo’s hope that it wouldn’t take long for them to find that probable cause.
All they needed to do now was wait for Suede and one or both of his accomplices to show up, a process that had him on edge. They had no way of knowing if the men would show up tonight, but it was Friday, and the club was putting on an event. The marquis outside declared it Saints and Sinners night, just as Melody had told him. The interior of the club had been transformed for the night, the LED sun having gone black with tongues of fire licking up and around the sphere.
The two floors had been decked out with clashing themes—the lower floor representing Hell, with the upper floor signifying Heaven. Blinding white light and fog assaulted them from above, the occasional neon green laser cutting through the glow. Strobe lights pulsed in time with music that was a combination of Lo-fi, Pop, and Classical—harps and strings mingling with operatic vocals and drumbeats. The employees on this floor wore white from head to toe, and most costumes had been fashioned to resemble angels. Feathers and gold and silver jewelry flashed here and there, and glitter and confetti covered the floor half an inch thick.
The competing music from below them was only audible on the staircase—House music mixes interspersed with bursts of Rock and Hip-Hop. The lighting in ‘Hell’ was dim and interrupted by slashes of red and purple. Smoky fog was a sinister gray, drifting over the dance floor in a heavy blanket. The workers in Hell wore all black with latex masks sporting devil horns. The costumes were in theme—headwear sporting horns sticking up here and there, pentagrams and Baphomet symbols standing out in shades of white, silver, and red. In the middle of the dance floor, next to the fiery sphere, a cage had been erected on a platform. Inside the cage, a girl in a red latex bodysuit danced. A devil-horned cowl covered her from the eyes up.
The occupants of the two floors mixed and mingled wherever they liked, angels and devils mingling on the dance floor and at the bar. Waitresses dressed like angels circled the upper level, selling specialty shots and flirting for tips. Melody had yet to make an appearance, but had told Mateo herself that she’d be here.
Getting into the spirit of the undercover operation, Donovan had decked himself out in all black, a half-mask making his eyes stand out like polished steel. A set of goat horns sat perched on his head, and a studded belt buckle circled his hips. Mateo had nearly gotten into a shouting match with Donovan and Darcy, who had eventually convinced him that he would stand out if he didn’t at least try to adhere to the theme. He had grudgingly given in on his own terms, choosing a simple getup of black pants, button-up, and blazer, with only a pop of white at his throat offering relief. The priest’s collar and silver crucifix hanging around his neck were enough to keep from marking himself as an outlier. Mari would choke if she could see him, crossing herself and reprimanding him for mocking the church. He liked to think he could have convinced her it was necessary for him to be effective undercover. She would still probably have mumbled a few Hail Marys over him anyway.
Williams had encouraged him and Donovan to move about the club more, to keep anyone from noticing that they spent all their time eyeballing the VIP section. Besides, they were more likely to spot shady activity if they studied the place from various vantage points. They had been here only half an hour, so Mateo was content to sit and watch his surroundings. The vibe of the night almost assured Suede would be here, if not his associates. Business would be good; too good for Suede to sit on the sideline.
Mateo was growing restless, his leg bouncing beneath the table. Even the fiery burn of Scotch down his throat and belly weren’t enough to take the edge off. He felt like he would explode if something didn’t happen. Soon. Now. This case had worn him thin in more ways than one.
Movement caught his attention, and he swiveled his gaze to the cage just as the dancer in red traded places with a woman in white. He barely registered the red devil disappearing from the cage when an angel stood in her spot. Her dress was downright indecent—short and dipping almost to her navel in the front. That shining dark skin was a sharp counterpoint to the pure white, and as beams of light illuminated her from below, Mateo noticed the shimmer of body glitter on her shoulders, arms, and legs. She wore the same gold heels from the night before, but seemed to have no trouble balancing in them as she started to dance.
Mateo inched forward in his chair, his ears roaring as he watched, unable to blink in case he missed a millisecond. The way she moved. It snared him from the first snap of her hips and toss of her head, those braids undulating behind her as if she’d choreographed it that way. The flames in the sphere flashed red and orange light over the white of her dress, making her body glitter sparkle like pops of fireworks. She held onto the bars of the cage and undulated her body, waist winding, hips swiveling and rolling. She turned and grasped the pole running through its middle, rolling her body in hypnotizing waves. The crowd beneath her roared, and male hands reached up through fog and shafts of light, reaching for her, coveting her. Mateo clenched his teeth until they ached, a vein in his throat pulsing and throbbing in time with the music.
He watched Melody for what felt like hours, but must have only been the span of a few songs. The longer it went on, the more Mateo began to feel that she didn’t dance for an audience. She was clearly being watched, and a few people even filmed her from the upper level with their phones. But she didn’t pay any of them the slightest bit of attention. She moved around the cage, taking up the entire space, filling it with her presence. Mateo couldn’t look away if he tried, and God how he tried. His eyes went dry from how long he went without blinking, then grew exhausted and heavily lidded. And still, he couldn’t stop thinking about coming up behind her and pulling that lithe body against his. Couldn’t stop fantasizing about running his hands up those bare thighs, lifting the skirt of that dress and cupping her between her legs.
He blinked to find her sliding down the center pole and to the floor, as the devil in red climbed the ladder to resume her routine. Mateo followed Melody with his eyes, a speck of white disappearing through the fog and then materializing on the staircase. She vanished down a dark hallway and came back a few minutes later, wearing a headband that arched over her head in a halo, decked out with gold stars. She stopped off at the bar and conferred with Rudy for a bit before accepting a tray and setting off. Mateo held his breath as she navigated the crowded upper floor, smiling and laughing and accepting tips, which she tucked into one of the garters on each thigh. It didn’t take long for her to notice him. Her eyes seemed to suddenly snap up and lock with his from a few tables away. She hesitated for a second before making her way toward them. Her gaze flicked over Donovan for half a second before settling on Mateo again and holding.
“How’s it going, guys? Need anything?”
“I’m good for now,” Donovan replied. “Thanks.”
She held up her tray and grinned. “Are you sure I can’t interest you in a specialty shot? We’re serving them tonight only. This is the Archangel—it’s vodka with gold liqueur and an edible shimmer. Sins of the Flesh is a tequila shot with a spicy chili infusion, and The Veil is a secret recipe … but my personal favorite.”
Mateo’s neck prickled as he eyed the drink she had called ‘The Veil’. If it wasn’t his imagination, Donovan stiffened beside him, going deathly quiet. The liquid was dark purple and had dry ice smoke drifting off its surface. His throat clenched as he envisioned the worn book in Aveline’s hands, demonic markings and the image of Azrael leaping at him off the pages. Suddenly, the atmosphere of the club became stifling, the walls closing in. He struggled to breathe, his chest burning as if the fog wafting from downstairs were really acrid smoke. Squeezing his eyes shut, Mateo fought for composure, realizing that Melody was watching him, waiting for him to accept or refuse one of the shots.
The wide-eyed innocence in her stare sent doubt swirling through the suspicion filling his gut. He’d be stupid to think the name of the drink was a coincidence, but she had said it like she might when mentioning a fast-food joint or a gas station. The owner of the club might have ties to The Veil, but what about Melody? Donovan had been ready to shrug her off as being just a waitress in a club, but Mateo couldn’t ignore his instincts. Something about this woman in this place didn’t sit right with him.
“I’ll try Sins of the Flesh,” he said, once he managed to find his voice.
He held Melody’s gaze as he threw the shot back. The tequila scorched his throat and heated his belly, while the chili infusion made his tongue tingle. The combination was intriguing. He liked it enough to ask her for another one. She watched him down it while setting her tray on the empty table near them. Plopping down across from Mateo, she stretched her legs out and crossed them at the ankles.
“Y’all don’t mind if I sit here for a minute, do you? These are my favorite shoes, but they aren’t the best for being on my feet all night.”
“Knock yourself out,” Donovan said, at the same time Mateo muttered, “You didn’t seem to have any trouble dancing in them.”
Melody chose to acknowledge Mateo, hardly seeming to have heard Donovan. One of her eyebrows ticked up. “You were watching me?”
Mateo let his gaze move down her body, lingering on her shimmering legs. He wondered if body glitter was edible and how it might taste. Probably not great. Not that it would stop him from licking—
“Everybody was watching you,” he blurted, because he had to say something. He could feel Donovan observing them, and realized that his abrasiveness would seem strange when, as far as he knew, they’d only met Melody once. The man had no idea what Mateo got up to in his private time. If he did, he’d likely call up D.C. and report him to Carlisle.
Melody shrugged. “Trina needs a break sometimes. And when I’m on break, I like to dance. They don’t bring the cage out often.”
“You were good,” Donovan said, leaning in to be heard over the music. “Unc here couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”
Mateo cut a sharp glare at Donovan, who only joined Melody in a laugh. He wasn’t fond of this habit they seemed to share—laughing at him.
“So, what’s the deal?” she asked suddenly. “Two attractive guys come to a club like Solstice and neither tries to pick up a girl, or even dance with one? I didn’t think our drinks were that good.”
Donovan grinned. “I’m seeing someone, so the whole pick-up thing isn’t really happening right now. I don’t know about Mateo, though … you’d have to ask him.”
Melody swiveled a questioning glance at him.
He grimaced. “No pick-ups for me, either.”
“And dancing?” she prodded.
“I can’t remember the last time I asked a woman to dance.”
Way to point out how ancient you are. At least, he was ancient compared to most of the teen to twenty-somethings crowding this club.
For that matter, he had no idea how old Melody might be. She didn’t look any younger than Donovan, but that would still put him a decade or more older than her. Surprisingly, the thought wasn’t as much of a turnoff as he’d thought it would be.
“What if a woman were to ask you?” she prodded, a clear challenge in her eyes.
After the awkward end of their coffee date, Mateo had expected her to keep her distance. Maybe she would think him rude or weird or not worth the trouble of getting to know. Their moments of flirtation couldn’t have made much of an impression after the way he’d run out on her. But she was looking at him as if waiting for an answer. As if she were daring him to say yes.
Beside him, Donovan seemed to be choking on the sip he’d just taken of his drink. Though his coughs sounded suspiciously like chuckles.
“Depends on the woman,” Mateo countered.
“And if I’m the one asking?” she teased.
Something inside him jerked and drew taut, as if he were a fish snared on a hook. It was exactly how he felt as he snatched up the gauntlet she’d just thrown down. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”
“I get fifteen minutes every hour for a break.”
Donovan swiveled his head back and forth as he watched the exchange as if it were the most entertaining thing he’d ever seen.
Leaning back in his chair, Mateo nodded before he could change his mind. “I’ll be here.”
Giving him another meaningful look, she took up her tray and left, heading back to the bar. He didn’t dare turn his head, but could feel the Donovan’s gaze boring into the side of his head.
After a beat of silence, Donovan laughed, reaching out to clap one hand on Mateo’s shoulder. “Oh, snap!”
Rolling his eyes, he turned to meet Donovan’s gaze. “What?”
“I’m impressed. That whole brooding guy thing you have going on works like a charm. You got game.”
Mateo watched Melody empty her tray of the empty shot glasses. “I’m too old to have game.”
Donovan snorted. “False. Old guy game is the best game. You have all the experience. You’re all wise and shit. Women love that.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Right,” Donovan drawled. “The fact that you two were practically eye-fucking each other just now isn’t an issue.”
“Williams told us to blend in, so I’m blending in. You should try it.”
Donovan had been about to reply, but movement near the VIP section caught his eye.
“We got something,” he said, inclining his head toward the booth where five men were getting settled and attempting to gain Melody’s attention. Among them were Suede, Morrison, and Wilson.
Only Jones and the surveillance team would be able to hear what was being discussed in the booth, but Mateo watched them anyway. He didn’t want to miss anything that could offer him a clue to what Suede and his crew might be up to tonight. Melody treated the men as she had the other night, smiling and laughing with them, spinning in a circle to show off her outfit as they looked her over.
“I’m telling you, something isn’t right with her,” Mateo said. “She knows them.”
“Maybe,” Donovan hedged. “I’ll leave you to figure that out. I’m gonna go piss, and then I’ll hang out downstairs for a while.”
It was a good idea, and maybe while he was downstairs, Donovan would see something of interest. For his part, Mateo was rooted to the spot. Melody would come looking for him during her break, and that would be his chance to dig into her life a little more. It wasn’t why he had come here, but he wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight for the suspicion tearing him up inside. He couldn’t make a move on Suede or the others without the information they might gather from the wiretap. That left only Melody for the night, and he was determined to keep her in his sights. He watched her serve drinks, stopping frequently at the VIP booth to replace empty bottles and dirty glasses. At one point, she joined the VIPs on the leather sectional and stayed for a good ten minutes.
Mateo tried to reconcile this version of Melody with the one he’d shared coffee and beignets with and found it impossible. From the outside, she appeared the same, if only a little more polished. But Mateo had been trained to read people, to look past the surface to what they were hiding. His study of Melody had already begun exposing contradictions. It wasn’t just that he’d seen her dressed down and without makeup, or that when she wasn’t entertaining customers, she looked bored to tears. Everything about her was altered in the environment of the club, completely at odds with the woman he’d been following in his spare time. She walked differently, carried herself with aloofness and a touch of conceit. She attracted stares every time she moved from one place to the other, yet ignored those stares as if she thought herself above the people who dared to try undressing her with their eyes.
The woman from the café had been gentler, sweeter. The hard glisten in her eyes had been decidedly absent, and even her voice had softened, losing the sharpness it had when she was teasing or joking. When she hadn’t realized he was watching her, she moved differently, walked differently, held her head differently.
One of these personas was a façade, but Mateo couldn’t figure out which was her true face. He hadn’t gotten close enough to her yet. There was a part of him that wanted to get closer because of the ridiculous, delicious, spine-tingling things he felt when she got anywhere near him. Logic told him to stop thinking with his dick. It was clearly infatuated with Melody and couldn’t understand his rational mind. A mind that told him he was already entangled in one conflict of interest when it came to this case. The last thing he needed was another.
Resting his hand over his left pec, he reminded himself of the other reason he had to keep his head on straight. He closed his eyes and called up Mari’s face in his mind, holding onto her image with the ferocity that had driven him forward every hour of every day since her death. The ache in his chest intensified as his thoughts strayed to his daughter. Angelica was waiting for him to make it safe enough for her to come home. With every day, week, and month that passed, he came closer to losing her, to having her resent him for the rest of their lives for the distance he’d been forced to create between them. He had to put this to rest, even if it meant stalking Melody through the French Quarter until he had figured out what the fuck she was into. There was a chance she was a victim, playing a role forced onto her by association. He’d have Darcy examine her background, maybe see if there was a connection to Suede. He hadn’t sent their intelligence specialist Melody’s picture yet, for a number of reasons. At first, he’d been held back by Donovan’s insistence that she couldn’t be important to their case. Then, he had felt guilty for following her and intruding on her privacy. Now he realized that he should have followed his first instinct. He’d put Darcy on the job first thing in the morning.
