Chapter 1

Oscar’s Bar and Grill was unusually busy for a Thursday night, and Lacey stood inside the door.  Would it be easier to go home and make herself a sandwich?  She fingered the edge of the gym bag slung over her shoulder as she searched for an empty table.  She spotted one close to the wall.  Great.  An omen.  She’d stay.

Claiming it quickly, she tossed her bag on one chair and dropped into the chair against the wall.

Before she could reach for the menu, a waitress stopped next to her.  “Something to drink?” she asked.

“House red, please,” Lacey replied, and relaxed into her chair.  Busy and loud, Oscar’s had an electric energy that amped her up after a long day followed by a hard workout at the gym.

The small table was a bonus.  With any luck, it would discourage strangers from trying to chat her up.

The waitress studied her for a long moment.  Finally said, “Sorry, hon.  ID, please?”

Digging it out of her bag, Lacey handed it to the woman, who scanned it and quickly handed it back with a sigh.  “Sorry, Ms. Parker.  Ball game this afternoon.  Lots of teens are trying to score beers.”

“No problem,” Lacey answered with a weary smile.  “You gotta do your job.”

As the waitress headed for the bar, Lacey stretched her legs beneath the table, rolled her shoulders and flexed her feet.  Lots of sore muscles as a result of her workout.  Exactly what she’d been going for.

Ten minutes later, she had ordered the cod special and was sipping her wine as she read the news on her phone.  Suddenly a shadow slid over her, and a man slung her bag over the back of the other chair and dropped into the seat.  “Mind if I join you?”

Lacey stared at him over the rim of the glass, assessing, then carefully set the glass on the table.  “That’s a question you should ask before you sit down.”

He shot to his feet.  “Sorry.  Let me rephrase that.  Do you mind if I join you?”

“The bag on the chair is a pretty clear signal I’m not interested in company.”

He held up his hands, his eyes full of regret.  “Sorry.  I should know better.  I have five sisters, and they’d be all over me if they saw me acting so clumsily.”  He shrugged.  “You’re an attractive woman.  By herself in a bar where singles hang out.  I jumped to conclusions.”

Lacey took another drink of her wine as she studied him.  His high and tight hairstyle made her wonder if he was a cop, but he seemed too… lightweight to be a police officer.  Her uncles Jack and Cal, both members of CPD, were more intense than this guy.  Had more gravitas.  As though they carried the weight of the world on their shoulders.

“Can we start over?” he asked.  “I’m Brian.  May I buy you a drink?”

Dark blond hair and a ripped body.  Built like he spent time in a gym.  Brian was good looking.  She preferred guys who were wiry rather than ripped, but he was easy on the eyes.

Fun had been missing from her life for the past few weeks, and those twinkling brown eyes definitely signaled fun.  It had been a long time since she’d had a date.  “Fine,” she said after a long moment, sliding the phone into her pocket.  “Why not?”

His grin grew wider.  “Not a huge endorsement, but I’ll take what I can get.  You’re the most interesting woman in Oscar’s.”

Lacey barely resisted rolling her eyes.  “By interesting, I assume you mean alone,” Lacey said, wondering if she’d made a mistake by letting him join her.

“Nah,” the guy said.  “You’re more comfortable with yourself than anyone else in the place.  Like you’re happy to be alone.  That’s irresistible.”  He extended his hand over the table.  “Like I said, I’m Brian.”

She ignored the hand he’d extended, intrigued by the way he’d read her.  Who didn’t appreciate focused attention?  “Nice to meet you, Brian.”

He stared at her, obviously expecting to hear her name.  Instead, she sipped her wine.

“Okay, then,” he finally said, his smile widening.  “Woman of Mystery.”  He looked around for the waitress, then back at Lacey.  He pointed to her gym bag.  “You just come from Carousel?  That’s why I came over.”

“Yeah,” she said.  “I try to get there a few times a week.”

“I work out at Carousel, too,” he said.  “Great gym.  Serious people working out.  Not a lot of ‘see and be seen’ posers.”

Lacey nodded, watching his eyes.  “Why I like it.  Have you seen Milo Stark working out there?  The new soccer player on the Fire?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head.  “But I’m keeping my eyes open.  I heard he does a great workout.”

“Who do you work with there?” Lacey asked, trying to find out if he’d been feeding her a line when he said he went to Carousel.

“Alex,” he said easily.  “I’ve been working with him for a while.  Great trainer.  How about you?”

“I don’t work with a trainer.  I do my own workout.”  She didn’t know any trainers named Alex, but she didn’t know them all.

Leaning back in his chair, Brian said he worked in a tech firm in the Loop.  He was a data analyst.  Lacey told him she was a social worker with a private practice.  She didn’t mention Haven House, the house for runaways where she spent half her time.  She’d have to know Brian a whole lot better before she’d share that with him.

They chatted for fifteen minutes, and Lacey gradually relaxed as she sipped her wine.  He hadn’t leaned across the table, trying to crowd her.  Hadn’t tried to touch her.  He was respecting her boundaries.  He was funny.  Entertaining.  And wanted to hear about her a lot more than he wanted to talk about himself.  It was a refreshing change from most guys her age.

But she’d let him charm her way too easily, and she needed a glass of water.  The wine after her workout was giving her a buzz way too quickly.  She looked around for the waitress just as Brian’s phone rang.

Pulling it out of his pocket, he scowled at the screen.  “Gotta take this,” he said.  “I’ll get you another glass of wine and one for myself at the same time.”

“I don’t want…”

Brian was weaving his way through the crowd before she could finish telling him she didn’t want another glass of wine.  He went to the far corner of the bar, waving when he saw her watching him.  Then he turned to the bartender.

As Lacey watched the interaction, she saw the bartender nod.  Grab a bottle of red.  As he watched Brian, the bartender froze.  Narrowed his eyes at Brian, as if listening to the phone conversation.  Then he poured the wine and waited for Brian to finish his call.  Brian handed him cash, said something to the bartender, and began to walk toward her.  As he moved away from the bar, the bartender pulled his phone out of his pocket.

After several steps, Brian turned around, as if someone had called to him from the back of the bar.  He craned his head, scanning tables, then waved.  As Brian stood with his back to Lacey, the bartender kept his eyes on him, watching as he turned and headed for Lacey’s table.

“Here you go,” he said, setting the red wine down in front of her.  He moved her half-finished glass to the side.  “This is my favorite merlot, and I thought you might like to try it.  I found it the last time I was in California, and it’s the reason I come to Oscar’s.  They’re one of the few bars around here that serve it.”

“How did you know what I was drinking?” Lacey asked.

“You’re drinking red,” he said, shrugging.  Smiled again, but this time Lacey didn’t find it charming.  For just a moment, a calculating expression flickered across Brian’s face.  Disappeared.  “Thought you might want to compare this with whatever that is.”

Irritation washed over Lacey like a cold shower.  She hadn’t wanted another glass of wine.  One glass was plenty on an empty stomach.  Ignoring the glass he slid in front of her, she grabbed her original glass and took a sip.

Brian’s lips twitched.  “You intrigue me, Mystery Woman.  I like that you stood up to me.  Maybe I’m a little pushy, but I want everyone to try this wine.”  He moved her glass farther away.  “It should be way more popular than it is.”

Lacey slid her hands off the table and clenched them together in her lap.  For just a moment as he’d talked, Lacey had seen something cold and reptilian beneath Brian’s surface.

Being half-fae, Lacey could glamour herself.  She also could see beneath another fae’s glamour.  And it felt as if she’d just seen the real man hiding beneath Brian’s surface.

Ice rippled up her spine.  No way would she drink his wine.

After a long moment, she forced herself to relax.  Smile.  “I have a long history with house wines,” she said.  “Expensive wine is wasted on me.”

Brian shrugged.  Took his hand off the table.  It looked as if he reached into his pocket.  “Okay.  Enjoy your swill.”

Suddenly he stilled.  Stared over her shoulder.  When she turned to see what he was looking at, she saw nothing but a car pulling up at the curb.

When she looked back, he was sliding his hand off the table again.  But before she could wonder what he’d been doing, Oscar’s’ door opened and a man wearing a sports coat, a blue dress shirt and jeans strode into the bar.

He was tall.  Rangy.  Black hair, dark eyes.  An olive complexion.  His gaze shifted from side to side, taking in everyone.  Studying.  Categorizing.

Moving confidently, he headed toward the bar.  Leaned against it at the far end, where Brian had stood to get their drinks.  Signaled the bartender.

Brian had been watching him, too.  He swiveled in his seat and smiled at Lacey, but his shoulders had tensed.  His hands were clenched into fists.

Flattening them on the table, he said, “I need to use the restroom.  Excuse me for a moment.”

He stood up, glancing again at the newcomer at the bar, then headed toward the back of the bar and the restrooms.

As she waited for Brian to return, she studied the wine he’d bought.  Should she try it?  See if he was right?  Was it really that much better than the house wine?

She picked up the glass and held it beneath her nose.  Inhaled.  It didn’t smell any different than the house wine she’d been drinking.

Frowning, she put it down.  Sniffed her glass of wine.  It smelled exactly the same.

Either she didn’t have a nose for wine, or both glasses had come from the same bottle.

She had a pretty good sense of smell.

When the waitress hurried past Lacey’s table, Lacey got her attention.  “Is it too late to cancel my food?” she asked.

“Probably not,” the waitress said.  “One of the cooks didn’t show up, and the kitchen’s slammed.”

“Sorry to hear that, but it works for me.  Could you cancel my meal and bring me my check?”

“Will do.”  She glanced at the untouched wine.  “He bought that at the bar, right?”

“Yeah, he did.”

“Be right back,” the waitress said.

As Lacey was rummaging in her bag for her wallet, someone slid into the seat across from her.  Thinking it was Brian, she clenched her teeth.  Forced her mouth to relax as she lifted her head to tell him to get lost.

But it wasn’t Brian.  It was the tall guy who’d walked into the bar a few minutes earlier.

“I’m Detective Eli Gonzalez,” he said, flashing a gold badge he unclipped from his belt.  “Chicago P.D.”  He nodded at the glasses of red wine on the table.  “Did you drink from either of those two glasses?”

Puzzled, she said, “Of course I did.  You can see one is half-empty.”

Detective Gonzalez exhaled.  “I’m sorry.  I should have clarified.  Did you drink from either of them after I walked into the restaurant?”

“No.”  Lacey shook her head.  “Definitely not.”

“Good.”  His shoulders relaxed.  He pulled a small notebook out of his shirt pocket.  “What’s your name?”

Lacey swallowed.  “Lacey Parker.”  Drawing in a settling breath, she asked, “What’s this about?”

“Let me get your address and a few other details, then I’ll explain.”

Lacey studied his face. He looked focused.  Intense.  Like Jack and Cal.  Finally she recited the address of the apartment she shared with Jared.

“Did you plan on coming to Oscar’s?  Were you meeting someone here?”  Gonzalez looked up, his pencil poised over his notebook.

“No.”  She licked her suddenly dry lips.  “I was at the Carousel Gym, around the corner, and came here after my workout to get something to eat.”

“So you didn’t know the guy you were with?”

Her stomach clenched, and Lacey sat up straight.  “I don’t know him at all.  He sat down and started chatting me up.”

“Have you ever seen him before?”

“Not before he sat down.  He said he works out at Carousel, too.”  Her heart began thumping, the sound reverberating in her ears.  Had she ever seen him there?  Searching her memory, she came up with nothing.

“Probably a lie,” Detective Gonzalez said.  “He saw your gym bag, knew the gym was around the corner, and figured it was a way to put you at ease.  ‘We work out at the same place.  Funny, but I’ve never seen you there.  We must exercise at different times.’  That kind of stuff.  Predators like to make a connection with their victims.”

Detective Gonzalez’s face was grim.  Angry.

“Predators?  Their victims?”  She was a victim?  Again?  Anger stirred in her belly, whipping into a froth of rage.  “A victim of what?”  The rage churned with anxiety that rolled over Lacey in a suffocating wave.  She reached blindly for her original glass of wine.

Gonzalez put his hand on it.  “No.  Don’t drink that.”  A muscle in his jaw clenched.  “The bartender saw him add something to the glass he bought at the bar.  Then one of the waitresses saw him add something to your original drink when you looked away.”

Lacey jerked her hand back as if the glass had bitten her.  Sucked in a breath.  “Because I wouldn’t drink his glass,” she whispered.  Nodding toward the rear of the restaurant, she said, “He’s in the restroom.  Go arrest him.”

Gonzalez shook his head.  “I already looked.  Not in the restroom.  He told you that’s where he was going, but when he saw me come inside, he rabbited out the back door emergency exit.  Several people saw him.  Didn’t even stop at the restroom, just hit the bar on the door and kept walking.”

Lacey glanced at the bartender, who was watching her and Gonzalez.  Suddenly she understood.  “The bartender called you, didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Gonzalez said.  “Your guy was talking on his phone.  He thought Jeff couldn’t hear him, but Jeff has good hearing.  Your guy said…”

“He’s not my guy,” Lacey said sharply.  “He just sat down at my table and tried to charm me.”  And he’d done a good job, Lacey thought bitterly.  What the hell was wrong with her?  She worked with victims every day.  She’d been one herself.  She’d had a predator right in front of her, trying to lure her in, and she’d been no smarter than the teens she worked with.

“Did he succeed?”

Lacey closed her eyes.  She hadn’t intended to let him slip beneath her defenses, but he’d said all the right things.  Wasn’t pushy.  Wanted to know about her.  “Maybe a little,” she said, staring at her clenched hands so Gonzalez wouldn’t see the shame.  The spiking anger.

“Don’t blame yourself,” Gonzalez said.  “Guys like that, charm is their stock-in-trade.  An attractive woman like you is used to guys hitting on her.  You know how to take care of yourself.  But a predator knows how to get around your barriers.

“The bartender gave me his description, and I’ve got some patrol guys looking for him.  But his approach was too practiced.  He knew right away I was a cop.  Clearly, he’s done this before, and he knows how to slither out of a trap.”

Horrified at what might have happened if she’d accepted the wine Brian gave her, Lacey asked, “What did Brian say that alerted the bartender?”

Anger flashed in the detective’s eyes.  “He said he had a live one.  That they would both have some fun tonight.  Told whoever was on the other end of the call to be ready.  To take care of all the details so they could get right to it when he got there with you.”  Gonzalez’s jaw worked.  “He also said that you were blonde.  His type.  He promised he’d look for a redhead next time.”

“Oh, my God.”  Lacey’s heart pounded so hard, it felt as if it would crash through her chest.  “What’s wrong with me?” she whispered.  “I know better than to let a man fetch me a drink from a bar.  My uncles have pounded that into my head since I turned twenty-one.  Told me all kinds of horror stories about what can happen.  In graphic detail.”

Gonazelez nodded.  “They’re right.  Smart of them to warn you.”

Lacey twisted her hands together in her lap, shame rushing through her.  They’d warned her, but she’d let Brian sit down.  Chat her up.  God!  “They’re cops.  Here in Chicago.  They know all about date rape drugs.”

His obsidian eyes sharpened.  “What are their names?  Maybe I know them.”

“Jack Murphy.  He’s the captain in the nineteenth district.  And Cal Doyle.  He’s a detective in the same district.”  She sighed.  “Plus I know a bunch of the Donovans.  They’re all annoyingly persistent about this.  And even though I’ve been warned so many times, I was almost caught.”

Gonzalez’s face had relaxed as soon as she said Jack’s name.  “I know Murphy and Doyle.  I work with them.  I know the Donovans, too.  You can’t swing a rope in my district without hitting Murph or Doyle or a Donovan.”  His mouth curled up in a tiny smile that made his face friendlier.  More approachable.  “They’re going to love this story.”

Groaning inside, knowing everyone in her family would be horrified, that all of them would hover and flutter and treat her like she was fifteen again, she said, “For your information, I’d decided I didn’t like Brian.  While he was in the restroom, I asked the waitress for my check.  I’d hoped to sneak out before he was back.”

“Damn good thing you didn’t,” Gonzalez said, his face darkening.  “Someone might have seen the untouched wine and grabbed it.  Drank it.  Been completely vulnerable.”

Lacey slumped back in her chair.  God, she hadn’t even thought of that.

Another car pulled up in front of Oscar’s, and a man and a woman got out.  Walked in, their heads moving just like the detective’s had.  When they spotted Gonzalez, they hurried over.

“Hey, Eli,” the woman said, nodding at the two glasses of wine.  “Those the samples we need to collect?”

“Yeah, Jeannie.  The full glass is the one our perp got from the bar.  The other one was on the table, and the waitress is pretty sure our perp added something when Ms. Parker’s back was turned.”

He turned to Lacey.  Motioned to the newcomers.  “Jeannie and Stan.  Evidence technicians.  They’ll take the wine to our lab and have it tested.  If we catch this guy, we can prosecute him.”

Lacey nodded, her mouth dry as sand.  The bartender had saved her from rape.  Maybe worse.  She owed him a big tip.  Opening her wallet, she found only a twenty and a couple of fives.  Stood up.  “Excuse me,” she said, her voice suddenly shaky.  “I need to give the bartender a tip.  If it weren’t for him…”

Her throat closed, and she hurried away.  Waited until the bartender wasn’t busy, then handed him the folded bills.  “Thank you,” she said.  “It’s not enough, but it’s all I have.”

He nodded to her.  “Glad I overheard him.  Don’t ever take a drink from a stranger.”

“Yeah,” she said, shaking her head.  “I came down with a bad case of the stupids tonight.”

The bartender smiled.  “At least you didn’t drink anything.  I’ll keep my eyes open for him.”

“Thanks,” Lacey said.  “I will, too.”

By the time she got back to the table, the evidence techs were gone.  Gonzalez stood up.  “Come on.  I’ll drive you to the station so you can file a formal complaint.”