I picked at the label that was damp with condensation, a thought niggling at the corner of my brain.
Rohan dug deeper into the database. “They absorb it through their skin like plants with photosynthesis. Their intake cycle is twenty-four hours. Dusk to dusk. They need to be in their natural form to absorb the sugar.”
Drio snapped his fingers. “They’re related to fix demons.” The demons who fed off addictions.
I studied the drawing. The hoc looked like a hairless cat, but with a tiger head. “How big is it? Kitten or giant feral predator?”
“Cougar-sized,” Rohan said.
Drio tipped back in his chair. “How do we find a demon giving himself a sugar scrub before his night out?”
“Buying all that sugar, rubbing itself down, it’s a lot of hassle.” I drummed my fingers on the table. “Candyman used the wretas to distribute Sweet Tooth. Their home was in East Vancouver along the water. The drop was in Crab Park, also along the water on the Downtown East Side, and the first address we had for him?”
“East Van. Along the water?” Drio said.
“The most east, and not that far away from the water,” I said.
“What’s your point?”
“Guess what else is in that general area?” I took a sip of water. “The sugar refinery.” I pushed Ro’s bottle at him so he’d hydrate.
He nodded his thanks and drank some. “We may not be able to question the hoc while it’s in its natural form.”
“I could flash in, slap it with a tracking device, and get out,” Drio said. “We follow it, question it wherever we want. No problem.”
“Slight problem,” Rohan said. “Hocs have strong pair bondings and don’t tend to go anywhere alone. We’ll all go in case one of them needs distracting. Better to have us and not need us.”
“Slight other problem,” I said. “The refinery is at the port and we need clearance. Everything down there is fenced off with manned booths at every entrance.”
Drio fired off a text. “Sending in an ID request. The Brotherhood won’t be able to pull anything together for tonight, though.”
“Even better,” Rohan said. “Gives us time to match employee uniforms, get a layout, and figure out the most likely place to find the hoc.”
“We’ll do that tomorrow. Tonight we’re going out. Double date. I’ll tell Leo.” I cut off the men’s protests. “No. People need balance in their lives. There is always going to be another demon, something else we need to deal with. We can’t go to the sugar refinery until tomorrow and I don’t have it in me to deal with the purple magic tonight. I need fun downtime to regroup. We need this. Shit like this matters.”
I didn’t understand why Drio looked so uncomfortable with the idea. “Didn’t you tell me we needed balance? Come on. I will brook no dissent. We’re going to have fun and then we’ll save the world tomorrow.”
I gave them the details. I’d been waiting for a chance to put my plans for Rohan into motion, but including a double date made the night even better.
A couple hours later, I wheeled a small suitcase into the foyer and whistled. Rohan stood there in a skinny black suit with white piping along the edges of the lapels, worn over a crisp white shirt, with his sockless feet stuffed into a pair of shiny black shoes. He sported a silver thumb ring and a leather cuff, his hair gelled spiky, and his eyeliner making his gold eyes pop.
He took in the scarlet fall of my silk dress, held up by a thin ribbon around my neck, and motioned for me to turn around.
I closed my eyes, the warmth of his body behind me palpable.
He ran his hand up the inside of my thigh under the fabric, his calloused fingers reverent, but with a bite of sandpaper. The fabric rustled, slipping against my bare ass.
Rohan bit the hollow between my collarbone and neck. “You expect me to sit through dinner knowing you’re naked under this?” His finger dipped inside me, his lips ghosting my skin. “Knowing how wet you are?”
I dragged in a ragged breath.
The shrill beep of his phone receiving a text was the spell breaker I needed to step away from him. I had plans for a long night but I’d been about ten seconds away from taking what I wanted here and now and fast.
Really needed to practice the virtues of delayed gratification.
“Drio’s leaving Leo’s place now.” His gaze licked over me and he took a step back, noticing the suitcase for the first time. “Going somewhere?”
“We’re staying at a hotel tonight.”
The smile he turned on me was pure wolf. “You’re right. A night off is exactly what we need.”
He insisted on driving, and though I’d never admit it, riding in the Shelby was a rush. The leather seats molded to my ass like they were custom made, the sound system was top-notch, and the car didn’t so much drive as prowl. I rolled down the window, letting the sweet summer breeze tamp down my fevered need to a manageable simmer.
First stop was dinner at a downtown fancy steakhouse. Suited men drank tinkling highballs in a dozen shades of amber and women in cocktail dresses enjoyed good wines in a room lined with wood paneling and dangling chandeliers. The muted hum of conversation filled the restaurant over the live pianist playing jazz standards and the smell of grilled meat had me salivating in seconds flat.
We joined our friends at a private booth with leather upholstery and a high curved wooden back. Leo was beautiful in a floral vintage dress with a poufy skirt, her red hair pulled back in a bun and secured with a large flower barrette. A stunning shawl in fiery reds and purples was draped over the back of the booth. This must have been the gift that Drio had brought for her from Italy. I couldn’t fault his taste.
Drio’s slim black suit was only a couple of shades lighter than the scowl on his face. He sat stiffly in his seat across from Leo, greeting us only with nods.
“Girls’ side of the table? Yay!” I slid in beside my bestie, giving her a hug. “What’s his deal?” I whispered.
“No clue. If he wasn’t so pretty, I’d never take him home again.”
I opened my menu. “Good to know you’re a sure thing.”
“Says the chick not wearing underwear.”
Drio may have been having some kind of hissy fit not wanting to sit beside Leo, but I’d seen women on the Atkins diet gaze at chocolate cake with less hunger than him drinking her in. I caught my reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Oh. Shut up, Katz.
Leo was my best friend; Rohan was Drio’s. The talk should have flowed fast and furious.
Dead. Silence.
We all studied our menus way too carefully. It wasn’t until I’d surreptitiously checked Ro out for the fifth time, Drio had wrenched his eyes from his date yet again, and Leo had given her third quiet sigh, nibbling her bottom lip, that I clued in to how our collective sexual tension could power the next Mars mission but was doing sweet fuck-all for scintillating conversation.
“Would you care for something to drink?” our waiter asked.
“Wine,” we all chorused.
The waiter smiled. “That type of day?” He recommended a Malbec. “I’ll bring it for you right away.”