Dotted among the crowds she caught sight of daring couples with their lovers held close as they turned the wide city sidewalks into a makeshift dance floor. Flowing skirts swayed to soft rhythms. Lovers embraced and families laughed together.
She pushed all of it to the back of her mind and let a darker agenda carry her deeper into the heart of the city.
She picked up her pace, weaving through the open terrace cafés around waiters carrying trays laden with rich delicacies.
Another couple of blocks and the pedestrian nightlife gave way to posh limos easing along the congested drags.
A large illuminated sign announced her arrival.
Rhia’s heart tapped an erratic rhythm against her chest as she drew to a stop in front of the three-story convent turned into Chicago’s most luxurious and exclusive sex club.
Haven.
Some saint or another must be rolling in their grave.
Tall spires brushed the sky from the four corners with enormous archangels standing watch between the peaks. Their stone-cold eyes stared down from atop their high perch as they clung to the darkened shadows of the night with fierce protective expressions etched into their stone faces. Like most nights she stared back waiting, wondering. For what she didn’t have a clue.
Were they protectors of the innocent or avengers here to slay the sinners of the dark world she’d entered?
Both.
She liked to think of them as her guardians, silly as it seemed. It made stepping into the viper pit a little easier every night. Illusions were a dangerous game though.
She inhaled a ragged breath and blew it out slowly and let the thought retreat so she could focus more on the real dangers.
One foot after another she closed the half-block distance and rounded the side of the building, following the same path she took six nights a week.
The scuttling sound of feet against craggy cement brought her head around. She ground to a halt, her spiked heel catching on a crack in the sidewalk.
Shit. She cursed under her breath at her own foolish nerves when it was just a stranger crossing the street.
“Everything all right, ma’am?”
Rhia startled and turned at the rough male voice.
She swung her gaze around. “Maddox, good evening,” she answered, over the moon she managed not to sound like a complete fool to Haven’s head of security. They must be shorthanded tonight if he was manning the employees’ entrance. He usually worked the floor, making sure the hostesses were left alone to do their job.
“The heat is making me a little crazy. Everything good out here?” Their exchange of simple pleasantries offered her an odd comfort. She didn’t see him much but got a hum of electricity when they did cross paths. Like there was something more to him but that’s where the idea died. Probably the energies of bad juju clinging to him and all the others like him.
Or maybe it was all her imagination and it was the place itself that made her feel so on edge.
A tight grin stretched across the man’s lips. “All good, ma’am.” He drew in a thick Russian accent.
Growing up, her father had ensured she learned several languages—French and Spanish. But they never made it to Russian. He’d never stayed home long enough after she hit puberty.
“Otlichno.” Her terrible attempt at saying ‘perfect’ brought a smile to the towering hulk of a man tasked with ensuring the employees’ safety coming and going from work. The savage scars lining his face depicted a harsh past.
He nodded once her way before opening the door. Peaked walls with several dome lights running the length of the entrance revealed an empty corridor before her.
Good. She was the first to arrive.
She slipped into the dim entrance and like every night this Godforsaken summer, Rhia paused for a few seconds as the door snicked closed and let the cool air settle over her like a welcoming blanket of ice against her overly heated skin.
And for that one second, she forgot she willingly walked into the viper pit.
Rhia made her way down the short corridor where two doors stood on opposite sides. One led down another corridor and dead-ended at the main floor. The other opened to a room with a changing partition that offered privacy and a vanity that spilled down the full length of the wall to accommodate the extensive number of hostesses who tended the clientele. Inside these walls appearance was everything.
She ducked inside and made quick work of shedding her wraparound dress to reveal her less than modest leather uniform. She unclipped her hair and mused her curls. A quick touchup to her cherry red lipstick—another staple of her uniform—and she was done. Just as she left several hostesses arrived and followed, ready for a long night ahead. Many were just as young or younger than herself.