Making the Rent the Hard Way - 13

I decided to wear black slacks and my best shirt, the pale silver-gray one that matched my eyes, for my visit to Farnham's club. Yeah, the shirt was a bit of a conceit. I'd seen it in a high-class men's store about six months ago and decided I had to have it, despite the cost.

By the time I got there, the club was crowded, both inside and on the deck overlooking the lake. Not at all surprising since it was Friday night. While I waited for someone to vacate a seat at the long, mahogany bar, I studied the customers and the help. Well over half the customers were shifters. All of the waiters and bartenders were—and all of them were male. The only females in the place were women with their husbands, boyfriends, or whatever. Not one unescorted woman in the place.

Eventually, I was able to get a seat at the bar. I ordered a beer from a bartender who must have been a cousin to the bruiser who accompanied Farnham when he came to my office. That made me realize every male working here was no slouch in the muscle department.

I kept an eye out for Farnham, not certain if I wanted to see him or avoid him if he was around somewhere. I decided avoidance would be the best policy, if it came up. No sense in letting him think I was checking out the club. He might get the wrong idea—which, of course, would really be the right idea.

I finished my drink and was about to order another one when my phone vibrated. I checked to see who it was, and saw a text—three words—Your place, L.

Short and sweet. I was certain it had come from Luca. After all, I don't know anyone else whose name begins with L. It could have been a setup, I suppose, but Farnham would have no reason to do that, that I could think of. I got up, dropped money on the bar for the beer plus a tip, then took off.

In case anyone thinks I'm stupid, I'm not. I didn't go dashing down the hallway to my apartment. I didn't even park in the building's lot. I drove past, glancing up at my windows. No light showed, although I didn't expect it would. I parked a block away, then came back via the alley to let myself into the building by the back door—after making damned certain no one was watching.

From there, I went around to the lobby, which was empty, then took the elevator up to the fifth floor. It was a two-flight walk up the emergency stairs to the seventh. When I got there, I cautiously opened the door from the stairs onto the hallway. No one was visible, human or shifter. I walked quietly down the hallway, peering around the corner to be certain no one was lurking by my door. Someone was there, but hardly lurking. A tall, auburn-haired shifter leaned against the wall. Even from several yards away, the tension in his stance was palpable.

Without saying a word, I went past him to my door, unlocked it, then stepped aside to let him enter. As soon as he and I were inside, I disarmed, then rearmed the security and locked the door.

"Luca, I presume," I said.

He barely smiled as he looked around. "You'd better hope I am."

"Good point." I gestured to the sofa. "Have a seat."

He did, sitting stiffly, still checking out what he could see of the place, which encompassed the living room and the small galley kitchen off to one side. The doors to the bedroom and bathroom were closed. I went to take a look into both rooms. Not that I expected to find anyone there, but considering the circumstances, it didn't hurt to check.

"If you're looking for some of Farnham's people, there's none in here," Luca said. "I'd know if there were."

"Yeah, I guess you would." True, since shifters can sense each other from a fair distance away. Me? I only know one's around if I see them. "Do you want something? Coffee? Or, I think I might have a couple of beers left."

He finally relaxed enough to lean against the back of the sofa. "Coffee would be good."