And I especially admired Roslyn’s fierce devotion to her sister and young niece, her determination to provide a better life for them. But that didn’t mean I was going to let the vampire renege on our deal. Fletcher Lane was dead, partly because of her. She owed me until I said otherwise.

“All right,” Roslyn said in a quiet voice. “I’ll help you, Gin.”

“Thank you.” I might be twisting Roslyn’s arm to the breaking point, but there was no need to be ungrateful about it.

The vampire nodded her head. “Follow me.”

———

Roslyn led us out of her office. The maze of corridors snaked all the way around the interior perimeter of Northern Aggression, forming a series of passageways, peepholes, and discreet doors that let Roslyn, her hookers, and the giant bouncers who watched out for them have access to the entire nightclub without having to fight their way through the drinking, smoking, snorting, fucking crowd on the main floor.

After a series of twists and turns, Roslyn opened a door marked Supplies and stepped inside. Finn and I followed her.

Finn stopped dead in his tracks, and a wide smile spread across his face. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

I snorted. “Yeah, hooker heaven.”

The room wasn’t filled with what I would consider supplies, but then again, I wasn’t in the nightclub business.

Racks and racks of clothes took up a good portion of the room, along with a couple of rows of metal lockers and several vanity tables crammed with makeup, hairspray, and dozens of boxes of condoms, feminine lubricants, and assorted body oils.

Roslyn removed a clipboard and pen from the wall next to a clothes rack. She perched her hip on one of the makeup tables and stabbed the pen at me. “Strip,” she ordered.

“Why?”

Roslyn pierced me with a hard stare. “Because if you’re going to masquerade as one of my girls, then you’re damn sure going to look the part. I’m not sending out shoddy merchandise, especially not to one of Mab Monroe’s parties.”

I had to applaud Roslyn’s dedication to her craft, if nothing else. So I stepped out of my boots and socks, peeled off my jeans, and shrugged out of my fleece jacket.

I took a little more care with my long-sleeved T-shirt, making sure Roslyn didn’t see the two knives I had tucked up my sleeves or the one I’d had hidden against the small of my back. A minute later, I stood there in my bra and panties. The concrete floor felt like ice against my bare feet.

“Underwear too,” Roslyn barked. “I need to see everything.”

I looked at Finn and made a circle with my finger, suggesting he turn around.

“C’mon, Gin. It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before,” Finn protested.

Roslyn started. “Don’t tell me the two of you—”