Page 54 of Heart and Soul
Russo’s done teasing women. As the ghost band kicks into high gear, he turns his finger, sending the spotlight across the room to glare off the black shades of Special Agent Hillerman. “‘Everybody needs somebody, and I needyou.’”
At first, Hillerman is cluelessly trying to shield her eyes from the piercing light. Then all at once she understands, and her face turns deep red, and the only thing she can think to do is turn her back to him. The whole club bursts into a loud, collective gasp. It’s inconceivable that he could be rejected.
Russo plays up his reaction, reeling back on his heels, clutching his heart as though he’s been stabbed. The instruments mimic him, slipping out of key and out of tune, like they’re being strangled. The audience laughs and starts to cheer for Russo to rebound.
Hillerman’s mouth moves with strings of silent curses. “Turn it off,” she growls at Elle. “Shut him down, now.”
“Sure thing. You got it.” Elle snaps her fingers.
Russo receives the idea, snaps his own fingers, and two werewolf men leap to his side and rip off their shirts. The crowd loses its shit, shaking the walls. The drums come to life with a conga line beat to which the werewolf strippers thrust their pelvises. Strutting, Russo leads them toward Hillerman.
Russo cracks an imaginary whip, and she is jolted by a very real force around her waist. When he pulls on the invisible rope, her feet drag across the floor. It’s helpless to resist, and she knows it, but even still she looks to me and begs, “Shayne.”
I smile. “Do it for your country.”
A forceful tug from Russo spins Hillerman around and into his arms. The crowd cheers his victory. With reluctant grace, Hillerman allows him to lead her into a brisk Mambo. The shirtless werewolves grab partners of their own, and soon the whole place is dancing to the same spontaneous choreography, like a movie musical. Elle is falling over with delighted laughter.
“Elle! How’s this working? I thought they had to be willing.”
“Willing and/or drunk,” she responds. “We’ve got plenty of both.”
“But Hillerman is neither. I thought you couldn’t force somebody.”
“That’s true, and I do feel her resisting, but…”
“But what?”
“You’re not going to believe this, but there’s another part of her that’snotresisting. It’s like there are two separate wills inside her. One wants to crawl into a hole and die right now, but the other part of her is encouraging my power.”
“She’s going to kill us both when this is over.”
“I’m telling you, Shayne. I’m not forcing her. I’m just feeding her the dance moves, and she’s going along with it.”
It’s hard to hear over the roar of the crowd. Throwing the mic over his shoulder, Russo places both hands on Hillerman’s hips, tosses her up onto the bar, then jumps off a stool to join her.
My eyes bug out. “Elle, no! That’s Terrance’s new bar! It’s his pride and joy. It’s his baby.”
“It’s his fault for letting us in!” Elle squeals, rummaging through her purse. She throws me her credit card.
“No, Elle!”
“Too late! We’re doing this.”
The music builds to a crescendo. The crowd is out of their minds—barking, howling, cheering, kissing, raving mad. As Russo and Hillerman dance along the length of the bar, the sea of liquor bottles on the wall ripple like baseball fans doing the wave.
My mouth drops open. “Elle!”
Now at the inescapable climax of it all, Russo spins Hillerman into his arm and dips her way back, her hair falling onto the bar just as every bottle—hundreds, maybe thousands!—pop their corks and explode neon booze across the fanatical crowd. I cover my ears against a thunderous cheer that rumbles the floor.
“Elvira Jane Harrington!”
“Too late, Shayne! It’s done!”
“No, I mean look at her!”
Lying back in Russo’s arm, breathless and bathed in glowing liquor, Agent Hillerman issmiling. On a night that will move Underworld into the realm of legend, this is the detail I will remember as the most incredible.
Russo leans down to kiss her, but at the last instant, Hillerman raises a finger to his lips. Her smile dims as they stare into each other’s eyes. Russo, the consummate gentleman, doesn’t press his luck. He lifts her to her feet, and she immediately steps down from the bar, making a beeline for the exit.
