If Looks Could Kill by Elizabeth Cage

into the living room. “I think this cat’s down to about three.”
    â€œAnd we were worried that we were too clean,” Theresa grumbled in reply.
    Jo ripped her once beautiful Armani jacket off and threw it across the room in disgust. “I can’t believe those slimeballs totaled my jacket! Do you know how long it took me to find a tailor who could press it just right?”
    â€œAbout as long as it’s going to take me to strangle you,” Theresa replied wearily. “I can hardly lift my arms . . . but in your case, I’ll make an exception.”
    Jo glared at her. “Hey, I got us out of there. And we’re the ones still walking.”
    â€œYou call that walking?” Theresa said of Jo’s exhausted limp. “You look like Yoda trying to be a runway model.”
    â€œOh, shut up.”
    She and Jo shuffled in and slumped down on the throw pillows. After a few minutes of exhausted silence, they had enough energy to get up for some beverages and food. But the throw pillows were like magnets. Soon they were lounging again, listening to the hustle and bustle on the street outside. Staring at the exotic nighttime skyline through the long windows that lined the far wall.
    â€œIs it me,” Theresa said, “or was that attack a little too smooth to be a random run-in with a bike gang?”
    â€œThat was a professional hit,” Jo replied. “No doubt about it. Those MRZ bikes are too pricey for your average hood. They’re racing bikes. They start in the mid-five-figure range.” She smirked. “And oh, what a treat to ride.”
    Theresa fished an ice cube out of her soda and held it against a bruise on her forehead. She winced. “Then we are definitely onto something. Do you think the warehouse is a front?”
    Jo shrugged. “For what? It’s empty.”
    â€œEmpty. Yet guarded by killer bikers,” Theresa pointed out.
    Jo sighed and rubbed her sore back. “Nothing adds up.”
    â€œWell, let’s try some of that math,” Theresa offered. “Between the warehouse and my poor nuked computer, you have a second-rate cult leader who wears high security like a bullet-proof vest.”
    â€œBut for what?” Jo pressed. “Bilking rich college kids out of their inheritances?”
    â€œIt has to be something bigger.” Theresa shook her head slowly. “You’re talking about attempted murder and government-level encryptions. Not to mention four brand-new MRZ motorcycles. That’s some slick financing. That tells me Lucien’s not so second-rate.”
    â€œGreat,” Jo grumbled. “And as usual, we don’t know squat.”
    Theresa rolled over and gazed grimly at her partner. “Whatever it is, Jo, we better find out soon. Because our best friend is right in the middle of it.”
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    After receiving Lucien’s gracious invitation to dinner, Caylin was turned over to Jenny, who showed Caylin to her quarters. Outwardly Jenny was still just as friendly, but Caylin immediately noticed a chillier air from her.
    â€œLucien has never done that before,” Jenny pointed out as they crossed the compound to the members’ quarters.
    â€œDone what?” Caylin asked.
    â€œAsked a new arrival to have dinner with him—in his quarters.” Jenny smiled slyly. “You must have made quite an impression.”
    Caylin shrugged. “I’m just going with the flow.”
    They crossed the courtyard and entered a stone building. Jenny led her to the second floor and down a long hallway that resembled a college dorm. She opened a door about halfway down the hall and flipped on the light. Inside was a bed, already made, a desk and chair, and a small closet. A set of white garments was laid out on the bed for her.
    â€œI guessed at the size,” Jenny said as Caylin lifted her white top from the mattress. “I hope they