Free Blood Slave: A Realm Walker Novel by Kathleen Collins

her and she took it gratefully, if for no other reason than she now had something to do with her hands. She used the time to glance around at her surroundings. It looked different than she imagined a strip club would. Honestly, it wasn’t that different from the Den of Iniquity, the bar Thomas owned. Except the stage and the stripper pole, of course.
    Twenty minutes later, the door to the back hallway opened and none other than Charles Morgan walked into the room. He was shorter than she imagined he would be. His dirty blond hair was neatly combed and he was clean shaven. Wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a pair of gray slacks, he presented a very unimposing figure. In fact, as a whole, he was generally just less than she expected a man like Morgan to be. Maybe she’d grown too used to Thomas’s presence and now expected every master to be the same.
    His dark blue eyes looked her over, narrowing briefly before showing only casual interest. He turned his attention to the other man. “What’s this about?”
    “Says she’s here about the job.”
    His eyes widened and he turned his attention back to her. “You want to be a waitress? Here?”
    She frowned, not understanding why either of them was acting the way they were. It was almost as if they hadn’t expected anyone to actually apply for the job. “Is there a problem? I’m new in town. I need a job. I saw the sign.”
    He hesitated then gave her a wide grin. “You just don’t look the type is all, darlin’. You ever waited tables before?”
    “I’ve been known to do so once or twice, yes.” And that was the literal truth. She’d filled in at the Den exactly two times when they were short staffed. It was enough for her to know that the job wasn’t as easy as it looked. On the other hand, it was better than tromping through the snow hunting a troll.
    “All right. This might be interesting. You can start tonight at eight. Shift ends at three. That work for you?”
    She shrugged one shoulder. “Sure. Whatever.”
    “If you got your ID on you, you can fill out the paperwork now.”
    She fished the license out of her back pocket that the Agency had mocked up. It had her Agency ID photo on it, taken when her hair was all black—no sign of her current purple streaks in sight. It also identified her as Jennifer Young.
    “Jennifer, huh?” He looked her over again. “You got a social security card?”
    “Not on me. I can bring it tonight.”
    “Good enough. Welcome aboard,” he said and handed her a stack of paperwork. “You can bring it back tonight or sit here and fill it out. Let me go make a copy of this.”
    She watched him disappear through a door and then she flipped through the paperwork in her hand before deciding to make Nathaniel help her fill it out. They could work on it together to make sure all her lies were straight. Morgan came back and handed her the license and a grocery bag. She glanced inside and saw nothing but black. “What’s this?”
    “Your uniform,” he said with a grin.
     
    ***
     
    Thomas used his towel to wipe the sweat from his face and checked his phone again. Still no calls.
    “It’s not much of a workout when you keep stopping every ten minutes.” Michael danced on the far side of the ring, sweat dripping from the ends of his dark hair in spite of his assertion he wasn’t getting any exercise. Juliana had yet to check in. And while logic said he should just call her, pure stubbornness kept him from doing so. She was the one that took off without being honest about where she was going. It would serve her right if she got into trouble when he wasn’t there to get her out of it.
    “Shit,” he said even as the thought crossed his mind. He frowned at Michael, ignoring his friend’s amused expression. “Give me a moment.” He turned his back on the ring and dialed Juliana’s number only to have it go straight to voicemail. He clenched his teeth and a muscle worked in his jaw.