Free Just One Night: Part 2 by Elle Casey Page B

pushes in the combination on a keypad lock. “After you,” he says as the door swings open.
    At the end of the black-painted hall is a green door. “She’s inside. I’ll be out here when you’re done. Then you have to leave.” His voice would be a lovely baritone if I weren’t so angry. Now I would describe it as having more a grim reaper quality to it. I’m quite sure the slow and steady way he carries himself is nothing to judge him by. I will not be crossing this man tonight. I’ve been fighting Edward and his enemies most of my life, but that doesn’t mean I have a death wish. Just a bit of a Galahad complex, maybe.
    Edward takes offense on my behalf, laughing with irony. “Get a load of this bloke, Will, telling us to shove off after we’re done here.” He turns on the bouncer. “Right! As if we’d want to stay in this skip? Think again, dustman. Think a-gain.” He pokes the guy’s chest twice for emphasis.
    I open the door before my brother can get us into any more trouble than I’ve already managed. I find myself in the entrance of a large, open office with a desk at the far side. There is a woman sitting at that desk in a high-backed leather chair and I’m not sure whether to feel sick or elated over the fact that I know her face.
    “Well, well, well, would you look at who we have here,” she says. Her Cheshire Cat smile tells me she has me exactly where she wants me. I’m nervous but not cowed, worried but not yet desperate.
    “Who’s this, then?” Edward asks, abandoning his harassment of the bouncer in favor of getting details on my private life. “Do you two know each other?”
    “Not as well as I thought we did,” she says. Her smile turns downright evil. She is enjoying this way too much for my comfort.
    I sigh heavily and face my brother. “Edward, this is Ingrid. She works as a solicitor in my building.”
    “Actually it’s my building,” she says, all traces of humor gone. “Your brother works in my building. And apparently he also comes to my club in his free time.”
    “Got your hands in a lot of pots, is that it?” Edward says to her, turning on the charm. “Exciting, isn’t it, Will? I love a woman with power.” He leans in closer to me and murmurs in my ear. “You think she has a torture dungeon below the club?”
    She ignores him in favor of laser-beaming me with her serpentine eyes. I’m afraid to confirm whether her pupils are longitudinal instead of round.
    “You asked to see me?” she says, playing the innocent.
    I look at the bank of computer screens to her left. As I suspected, they’re projecting images of things happening around the club. Several of the images show dark corridors.
    “I want all copies of the tape you made of the incident in the hallway.”
    “Incident?” She lifts a penciled brow at me and has the goolies to smile about it. “Incident? What incident? You mean the fight? That happened at the bar, not in the hallway.”
    “No, not the fight.”
    Edwards nudges me. “What’s the bird squawking about?”
    “Leave my office,” she says to Edward, all her innocent playfulness gone.
    “Who, me?” He points to his chest. He actually sounds genuinely shocked. It’s not often he gets kicked out of anywhere.
    “Yes, you. Leave.” She raises up her hand and gestures at the door. The bouncer comes in and holds it open for Edward.
    “You okay?” he asks me. He sounds a bit like the younger brother I remember from our childhood. A little nervous, a little wary. Like he needs me. My protective instincts rise up like a tidal wave.
    I nod, not happy at all about where this is headed. “I’ll be fine. Wait for me outside.”
    Once the door is closed, Ingrid stands. She smoothes down her tight skirt and looks up to see if I’m watching. I’m not admiring her angular looks as she probably believes I am; I’m looking for my way out. I need to take possession of any recording Ingrid made of my tryst with Jennifer, and I need to get it