Fur Ball Fever

Chapter 12

The stench of rotting trash tickled Nick's nostrils. He'd left his SUV parked on the street, crept behind the building beside Kinki, and scrambled over a chain-link fence into the parking lot. Crouched in a dumpster's shadow, he studied Gracie with horrified fascination. She was wearing a blond wig. He wasn't worried she'd make him. Hell, she and Beth had been too damn busy shadowing Julius to notice his SUV behind them, and too preoccupied with ducking Oliver to check out their surroundings.

He could practically taste their excitement.

Once Oliver entered Kinki, Nick crept close enough to watch Gracie wriggle out from under her car. After a few words with Beth, she sauntered toward the entrance to lean against the railing, all casual-like, presumably trying to look like a member. A couple walked around her and pushed the doorbell. The pair entered, but she stayed put.

He nodded with approval. It was what he would do. He waited for her next move.

Another group of eager patrons rang the bell. They were dressed as women, but given the deep voices, Nick knew they were men. Gracie patted the wig, tugged her tank top a little lower. He knew her well enough to know she'd also sucked in her stomach. A moment later, she tagged along beside the group, and, engaging a brunette in conversation, sashayed inside.

Nick figured he wouldn't have to wait long.

Sure enough, she wasn't inside for more than two minutes. When she exited and the door slammed in her face, he sank into the shadow of a hedge, and just in time. Radiating waves of frustration, she stalked past his hiding spot.

Nick sighed with relief. With any luck her failed attempt to infiltrate Kinki would discourage her. Hopefully the two women would hop in their car and high-tail it home without ever learning of his presence.

He waited. When nothing happened he released a string of ripe curses under his breath. He'd lost track of Gracie in the darkness, but he could tell Beth was no longer inside the car.

The thud of footsteps on metal signaled someone was on the move. He strained to pinpoint an exact location. The faint glow of security lighting illuminated Beth's plump figure near the building. He scanned the parking lot for Gracie. The night-vision binoculars hanging beside his deck would have been a fine idea. The oversight reflected his agitated state of mind.

A flicker of movement drew his attention. He squinted into the darkness, hoping the black blob halfway up the wall was part of the architecture. No such luck. The blob zig-zagged up a fire escape. At the top, Gracie's lush figure was unmistakable against a window. A taste of fear filled his mouth. He risked leaving the shadows to inch closer, poised for action.

Her voice, low, husky, and unmistakable, floated on the air. "The blinds on the fire door are closed. I can't see inside or hear anything."

"Knock." Beth's stage-whisper caused him to stiffen. "Maybe one of them wimpy submissive types is upstairs, you know, the ones that enjoy being tied up and hurt for kicks. You can slip inside when the door opens."

Icy shivers chased up and down Nick's spine. He wanted to clap a hand over Beth's mouth, but he still held out faint hopes he'd remain undetected. Picturing the door opening and a burly bull dyke whisking Gracie inside, he took three stealthy steps toward the fire escape, ready to sprint upward at the first hint of trouble.

Gracie said, "Do you hear yourself? Get a grip."

He blew out a relieved breath.

"Smash the glass," Beth urged. "I'll get you a brick."

Shit. Gracie didn't need her aunt to fill her head with hazardous ideas. He ducked between two cars, hoping Beth wouldn't see him and blow his cover. Happily, she was too intent on trying to convince her niece to break into a fetish club to notice his furtive movement.