“Where’s your daddy’s money now, bitch? It wasn’t my idea to let you live, you know. That was Klemens. Didn’t want to rattle the moneyed class. They’re willing to overlook almost anything as long as none of theirs gets hurt. He let me take that little whore friend of yours, though. What was her name . . .” His voice trailed off, as if he was trying to remember.

Sid knew he was playing with her, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t want Janey’s name on this monster’s lips. “Janey,” she said, shocked at the raw sound of her own voice. “Her name was Janey, and you killed her.”

“Didn’t stop you, though, did it? You just kept coming and coming, and still Klemens wouldn’t let me kill you.”

She heard the squeak of leather as he rose from the chair, the scuff of his boots on the rough carpet, and then he was crouched right next to her, cruel eyes staring at her out of a face that was too handsome to be so evil.

“But Klemens is dead now, princess. And you’re all mine.”

Sid croaked a wordless protest, and he laughed.

“Tell you what. I’m going to do you a favor. You care so damn much about my slaves, you can fucking well join them. You’re a bit older than my usual merchandise, but that red hair’s worth something, and you’re white. That’s always a selling point. You’ll fetch a nice price.”

Sid saw the kick coming, but there was nothing she could do to stop his boot before it slammed into her ribs. She sucked in a shocked breath and knew he’d cracked a rib or two.

“You,” he said over her head. “Take care of her. You know what to do.”

“Get up,” her guard ordered. He grabbed one of her bound arms and pulled her to her feet.

Sid nearly screamed with the pain, but bit her tongue to stop the sound from escaping her mouth. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d hurt her.

As the guard shuffled her from the room, Pinto spoke up from behind her. “Cut the ties on her hands before you lock the door. I don’t want to damage the merchandise any more than necessary, but make sure she stays put.”

The guard grunted an acknowledgment as he pulled a key ring from his pocket and unlocked one of the bedroom doors. Several women were already inside, and they looked up as the door opened, their faces wearing identical expressions of fear. Sid had enough time to register their presence before she was shoved hard, just managing to keep her face from slamming into the floor as she fell. The guard snorted a laugh as he knelt next to her, one heavy hand gripping her thigh, pinching it as if testing for tenderness. She tried to roll away from him, feeling something close to horror at the idea that he might rape her, knowing she’d fight with everything she had to stop him, and knowing it might not be enough. The guard grinned, as if her pitiful efforts amused him. Rolling her onto her stomach, he shoved her face into the rough carpet and held her there with a knee in the middle of her back. There was a tug on her bound wrists, and then, with a snap of released plastic, her hands were suddenly free.

Sid couldn’t stop a cry of misery as blood flowed back into her hands and fingers, as strained muscles struggled to return to their rightful configuration. She lay on her side, gasping for breath, her sore hands curled protectively against her chest, her entire body shrieking with pain. But despite it all, a surge of adrenaline whipped through her system, making her heart pound with triumph.

She had her gun. And her hands were finally free. Things were looking up.

BEFORE THE ELEVATOR doors opened onto the lobby, Aden smelled more blood. It was nowhere near the slaughter that had greeted him upstairs. This was one man. He knew that before he saw the police gathered around the doorman’s body in its dark blue blazer. Humans swarmed the scene, technicians gathering every bit of evidence they could find. It wouldn’t do them any good, Aden thought. Whichever vampire had set this in motion would see to it that no one survived to testify to the event.

“Mister Aden?” A human male wearing a suit that cost less than the shirt and tie Aden was wearing approached him warily. He met Aden’s eyes only briefly before quickly looking away. Many humans believed a vampire could only influence a mind if they met the person’s eyes. That might be true of a lesser vampire, one who needed the contact to reinforce his control. But it was definitely not true of one with Aden’s power and ability. He didn’t correct the detective, however. The mistaken belief served vampire interests well.

“I am Aden,” he acknowledged, scanning the scene. “How did he die?” he asked, although he already knew. He could smell the gunpowder.

The detective didn’t answer his question, but posed one of his own instead, intent on taking charge of the conversation. “Where were you between ten and noon this morning?”

Aden gave the man a patient look. “I am a vampire, Detective . . .”

“Trevisani,” the man supplied.

“Detective Trevisani. I assure you that I and my staff were quite incapable of rising from our beds when this was happening.” He could feel Bastien’s growing tension, his aggression simmering just under the surface, heightened by the blood here and upstairs, and by what he perceived as a threat to his Sire. He was a good lieutenant, disciplined and highly skilled. But having his Sire’s territory invaded while they’d slept unknowing only yards away, and now with this human policeman all but accusing Aden of the crime . . . it was enough to strain the mettle of the most restrained of vampires.

To his credit, Trevisani had the grace to look embarrassed at his gaffe. Obviously, a vampire hadn’t killed the doorman. That didn’t mean a vampire hadn’t been behind it, however, and the good detective was both smart enough to know that and confident enough not to be cowed by his initial mistake.

“Granted,” he said, nodding. “But you own the top two floors of this building.”

“I do.”

“And my sources tell me there’s some big vampire meeting in the city this week.”

Well, that was interesting, Aden thought. The Vampire Council didn’t exactly maintain secrecy about their affairs. It would have been impossible given the sheer number of participants staying in town, not to mention the gala itself, which had drawn some attention. But the detective’s comment made Aden suspect that it went beyond idle curiosity, that perhaps the Chicago police had spies within vampire society in the city. He’d have to remember that when he became Lord of the Midwest.

“That’s true,” Aden said, agreeing without providing details.

Trevisani grunted. “I’m thinking maybe this attack had something to do with you personally.”

“It was not a vampire who did this,” Aden said confidently. “It clearly happened in full daylight—”

“Could be a hit team hired by a vamp,” Trevisani interrupted to say.

Aden smiled patiently. “As I was saying . . . vampires do not attack each other in daylight. It’s forbidden by custom, and the repercussions for any vampire who dared would be significant.”

“So who hates you enough to pay the price?”

Aden huffed a humorless laugh. “I have many enemies, Detective, but I do not believe this was aimed at me. There was no attempt to breach my security.”

“The elevator was open when we got here, and there’s blood inside.”

Aden didn’t say anything to that. There had been no question posed, and it was always better, when dealing with authorities of any kind, not to volunteer information. Besides, what could he say? That he didn’t need anyone to tell him there was blood, that he could smell it for himself? He doubted the detective would find that reassuring.

Trevisani waited, studying Aden’s face for any indication of guilt. Aden gazed back unflinchingly. He’d faced down far more dangerous opponents than this human detective.

“All right,” Trevisani conceded. “We’re just about done here.” He gestured at two men who were cloaking the body in a black body bag and zipping it up. “This building’s a co-op, isn’t it? You’ll want to hire a special team to clean this up. If you call the district, they can give you a referral.” He tucked away the small memo pad and pen he’d been using for notes. “In the meantime, I’ll need your contact information in case something comes up.”

Aden reached into his jacket pocket and handed over one of his business cards.

The detective read it carefully, then nodded his acceptance, not understanding that his thoughts were no longer his own, that Aden had been slowly, unobtrusively, working his way into the detective’s mind.

“I’ll send you a copy of my report in the morning,” Trevisani said. “I have to say, though, my gut’s telling me this was a hate crime. You’re just lucky they didn’t make it upstairs.”

Aden held back his smile. The detective had proven to be quite strong-willed, but Aden supposed that was to be expected given his line of work. The challenge, as always, had been taking over the man’s mind without him sensing the intrusion. He could have achieved the same result much more quickly, if he hadn’t cared about leaving the mind intact.

Normally, Aden would have relished the challenge of manipulating such a strong-willed human, but tonight it had taken all of his considerable self-control to hold back his impatience. He didn’t want to be here bandying words with a human police detective. He wanted to be out there hunting down whoever had been so brazen as to attack Aden’s lair in broad daylight, and so stupid that he’d left behind a body for the human authorities to find. It wasn’t only Aden who would come down on the instigator for this, the entire Vampire Council would crush him.