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City lights illuminated the street to the point of daylight. Azalea Gothel turned the corner onto Main Street, which would take her to her targeted location. Hood raised to block recognition, she only had a few hours. Any more than that, and she would be found out.
She walked past a narrow storefront selling liquor and cheap thrills, mostly gambling from what the blinking neon lights advertised, and headed to the larger, more sophisticated-looking club. The building stood out from the rest on the strip, towering over all of them, and decorated in a much darker scheme than the rest.
The club resembled a Renaissance mansion, with ominous architecture and two large gargoyles perched on podiums overlooking the entrance. Two towers climbed to a second story with a third rising two stories higher than the others.
The owner had aptly named the club Tower, or maybe he’d built the club around the name.
It didn’t matter, and she had much bigger concerns at the moment. Her curiosity had driven her down to the city streets, out of the comfort of her suite where she lived with her mother. But she had only a few hours. If she didn’t return home before midnight, her absence would be discovered.
Having an overprotective mother had been annoying growing up. Now, it caused a desperation Azalea had never felt before.
“Hey there, beautiful.” A voice from behind her slithered over her shoulder. She quickened her steps. The owner of the voice cursed at her but didn’t follow her.
Tower may cater to upscaled clientele, but it brought out the seedy beasts as well. She wasn’t completely naïve; she knew better than to think she’d be able to walk the street without at least one man’s eyes on her. It was her hair. The golden tresses easily snagged attention.
She pulled her hood closer around her face and came to the entrance of the club. Taking a deep breath, she retrieved her small purse and dug out the cover charge.
“You alone?” The bouncer looked behind her. At such a late hour, the evening was already in full swing, yet there wasn’t a line.
“Yes,” she said and waved the bills in his direction. “Fifty dollars, right?” She pushed the money at him again when he didn’t accept it.
“Take off that coat,” he ordered.
She heaved a sigh. She would hardly hide weapons in such a flimsy overcoat, but if it would make the hulking guard take her cash and let her off the street, she’d play along.
Shaking off the garment, she threw it over her arm and thrust the bills at him again. “Okay?”
He looked her over. A smile grew on his lips as his gaze reached her chest, and brightened as it traveled downward.