Page 7 of Clubs

“Declan’s dad was involved in the drug world, and they couldn’t bust him for all the shit he was doing, but they knew he was doing it,” I said.

“Yep.,” Emory replied. “And Declan inherited that beef with the cops. The guy who’d pulled him down to the station, Detective Tyler, he’s had it out for him forever. He knows there’s something going on here. That it’s more than just drugs, something supernatural. But he can’t prove it. He’s been trying to for years, almost lost his job over it a few times, but nothing ever sticks because there’s never anything conclusive. Without substantial evidence in court, there’s nothing he can do. But anytime something happens, whether it’s a fight between a couple guys, or somebody putting in an anonymous tip about illegal gambling, this is what he does. Grabs Declan, brings him down to the station, makes his life hell for a few hours, then lets him go. It’s never been anything this serious though. They might be able to hold him for a while.”

“Or pin something on him that he didn’t do ,” I murmured. “Shit. You know any good lawyers?”

“Not off the top of my head, but we need to find someone from our world.” He looked at all the cops scattered about our little paranormal haven. “And we gotta notify the Chambers. Possible exposure risk.”

A valid concern that got my skin crawling.

It was unsettling. All the humans in this space. Our space.

There weren’t many places like Spades. It was membership only. To become one, Declan sniffed you. If you were human, you didn’t get a membership. Only people like us were allowed inside, and a guest if we could vouch for them.

By the rules of the Chambers, none of us were allowed to share our true identities with a human, but some did anyway. I never had. Never had enough friends to have to worry about disclosing that. But even so, when a human walked inside, we knew, and we were cautious. Exposure wouldn’t end well for anyone.

“My connections aren’t as deep as they used to be,” I said, standing and walking around the bar. In my purse, I dug for my cell phone. Finding it, scanning through my contacts, I grabbed the landline off the wall. While I typed the number in, I said to Emory, “I’ll find him one. And I’ll meet them down there. Hopefully I can get him out by morning.”

“You can’t do that on your phone?” He gestured to the business line. “I’m waiting for your sister to call.”

“I’m almost out of minutes. That little bitch has run my bill up so high, I’m gonna need to sell a kidney next month.” As the dial tone sounded at my ear, I exhaled deeply. “You haven’t heard from her at all?”

Again, he got closer and lowered his voice. “She was driving by when it was all going down. I guess she was carrying. Didn’t want to come inside.”

“Of course she was,” I said under my breath. My knowledge of the underground drug world wasn’t from research but lived experience. A lot of it I had gathered as a child when my dad was involved in it. But most of it, I had gathered from Ariana. My little sister who was actively addicted to heroin. “She say she’d call when she got home?”

“And that she was low on minutes, so she might just wait for you to get back.”

Maybe I wouldn’t have to sell a kidney after all.

“Hello, love.” A voice with a heavy London accent came through on the third ring. “Depending, of course. Declan or Emory?”

“Brooke.” Rolling my eyes, I leaned against the bar. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“And disappointed, I am.” A heavy, almost taunting sigh. “But a call in the middle of the night, eh? That’s never good.”

Genevieve. I couldn’t tell if I loved her or hated her. Maybe a bit of both. She never hid her affection for Declan, which was far from comforting. But she had helped us more than once in the year and a half we had known her. Not only was she a powerful Witch, but a connected one.

I didn’t know exactly who those connections were. From what I could tell, she wasn’t a part of the Chambers. Didn’t seem to like them much either. But when I needed something, nine times out of ten, she came through.

“It isn’t. Declan’s in jail.”

“What?”

I explained, ending with, “You know any good lawyers?”

“Jesus Christ,” she grunted. “Aye, I know a few. What’s your budget like?”

“Ideally, no more than two hundred an hour.”

“And if you need to post bail?”

With a deep breath, I rubbed down the bridge of my nose. “I’ll put my house up if I have to.” Declan would do the same for me. “Of all the people I’ve thought I might have to do that for, Declan wasn’t on the list.”

“In our world, darling, everybody should be on the list.”

“Oh, I expect a lot of the people I care about to end up in jail at some point. I’m just not willing to post bail for most of them.”

“I know what that’s like.” Genevieve laughed. “I’ve got to ask though, darling. Did he do it?”

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