The Song Bird (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (3 page)

“I know many operas.”

“Are they all drinking songs?”

She flicked an eye around the theater. “Some are,” she said. “But I have the feeling you want something more. Something that brings a little class to your establishment.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “And what makes you say that?”

“Because you stopped walking when I started singing.”

“I stopped walking because you have a beautiful voice.”

“Yes, a beautiful voice singing opera.”

He smiled, though it was a predatory slash of lips that made her shiver. But she held his gaze, determined to get him to answer what he knew about her sister.

“Very well, you can have the job. You’ll sing every night, followed by walking through the club after your performance to tantalize the guests. I’ll let you start tomorrow night, to acclimate to the club.”

“I came here to ask you about my sister. That’s all.”

“My time is valuable—”

“My sister’s life is valuable,” she interrupted, a hard edge creeping into her voice.

Again, he stared at her unblinkingly from eyes as cold as ice. “Never say I don’t recognize a business opportunity when I see it.”

His words caused a slight quiver of anxiety deep in her belly. “What?”

“I propose we have an arrangement. One song for one question. You get what you came here for, and I get what I need.”

She studied his face, the broad planes and crooked nose detailing a face that spoke volumes of his character. Avilon felt as though she could look at him all day and see a different side of his personality at every second.

“Is it a deal, sweetheart?”

“My name is Avilon Chambert, not sweetheart.”

“I like sweetheart.” He grinned mockingly at her. “Do we have a deal?”

“If I say yes, will you pay the song I just sang with an answer?”

He chuckled. “I see you recognize a business opportunity as well. All right, what is your question?”

“Do you know my sister, Amelia Chambert?”

Their gazes locked. She wanted to make sure she saw his eyes when he answered.

“I’m afraid I’ve never heard that name.” She opened her mouth, but he held up a hand to halt her. “You want another question answered, you have to wait till you sing me a song. In the meantime, let Annabel show you where you’ll be staying.”

“Staying?” she questioned.

But without any other delay, Eli Masters turned and left the theater, taking with him the wind from her sails. Avilon wilted, as if the strings holding her upright had suddenly been clipped. She desperately hoped she hadn’t just made a deal with the devil.

As usual, Jason fell into step beside him as they left the auditorium. Eli had been sixteen, on the streets in Philadelphia, picking fights and doing what he had to do to survive. Life was difficult but manageable, until the day a few street kids had picked a fight over territory, and he’d been outnumbered. He was getting the shit beat out of him, and saw a knife flash, when all of a sudden, another boy had jumped into the fray. Dazed and half unconscious, all he saw was a swish of blond hair.

Then he was being moved, and he looked up to stare into the brightest green eyes he’d ever seen. The boy had smiled as blood ran down from a cut at his temple, and he’d held out his hand to help him up. He’d tried to run the boy off, but Jason had tenaciously stayed. And as moody and hardheaded as he could be, Eli couldn’t imagine life without having Jason by his side.

“Quite a beauty, eh?” Jason quipped.

Eli sent him a sardonic glance. “You wanting to start a goddamn church in my club, Jace?”

“If I can listen to her sing and feast my eyes on that body every night, I may just become a believer.”

Something between a snort and laugh erupted from Eli. “Just our luck someone who looks like her believes in God. But I don’t sleep in convents, no matter that she’s got a body made for fucking.”

“Be nice, Eli. She could stir up a lot of trouble looking for her sister.”

“And even more if she starts asking questions outside of us.”

“I don’t recognize the sister’s name, though. Do you?”

Eli shook his head. “No, but she’s got to be the one who disappeared. I don’t believe in coincidence.”

“What do you want me to tell our new song bird?”

Eli stopped walking and pursed his lips. “Play dumb for as long as possible.”

Jason raised his eyebrow. “She doesn’t seem like an ordinary complacent woman, Eli. I don’t think she’ll just blindly go along with the nonsense I make up.”

“Don’t shortchange yourself, Jace. You spout nonsense like no one I’ve ever met before.”

“You’re such a smart-ass,” Jason muttered as he turned and walked away.

* * * *

Avilon shifted her focus from Mr. Masters’s and Mr. Braddock’s retreating backs to the women watching her. She could feel each stare like tiny little needle pricks stabbing into her skin.

“Well, dearie,” said the blonde as she swaggered up to the theater platform. Her robe gapped open, showing off the generous swell of her breast. Avilon had a hard time keeping her eyes from straying to the show of flesh. “Welcome to the club.”

“Are you Annabel?”

“I am. I’m also head of the girls around here.”

A hard glint crept into her blue eyes, blocking out the affable woman from moments earlier. Avilon immediately realized that Annabel felt the need to assert her status in the club.

“Then you must know everything,” Avilon replied eagerly, making sure to appeal to the woman’s sense of worth. “You probably could answer all my questions.”

Annabel sniffed, raised her chin a notch, and nodded slowly. “I do know just about everything in this club.”

“My sister wrote me a letter, dated six months ago, stating she worked upstairs for Mr. Masters. She implied she was in trouble.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you,” Annabel replied. She gestured to all the girls. “None of us can. We all got here at the beginning of the year.”

Avilon felt her excitement plummet. “Is that a usual turnover?”

“No, but I do know a theft happened,” Annabel replied. “Mr. Masters had to dismiss all of them since none of the girls admitted to it. He had a reputation to uphold, after all.”

Avilon thought about that for a moment. “Was it reported to the authorities?”

Several women broke out in chuckles.

“Dearie,” Annabel replied through her amusement, “Sydney Town ain’t a district that worries much about
authority
.” She used her fingers to emphasize the word. “Mr. Masters is lord over his domain.”

Avilon heard all that Annabel didn’t say, and so she clarified it. “And so over the girls as well.”

“Including you now,” Annabel replied.

Deciding not to argue with her about the issue, Avilon changed the subject. “I didn’t think trying to find Amelia was going to be quite this difficult.”

“It’ll be easier once you find out the name she was going by.”

“You think she changed her name?”

“Well, some girls do when entering into this type of work, protecting their families or whatnot.”

Avilon gave a thoughtful nod. “Then I need to describe her to him, see if he remembers what she looks like.”

Annabel pursed her lips. “As long as she didn’t dye her hair.”

Avilon stared at her, not quite sure to believe the woman or not. Would Amelia have gone to such lengths to escape her identity? Escape her background and erase all memories of her life? And if so, why? That question haunted her the most out of any other.

“Six months ago would have been the start of winter, and a lot of us working women move from the streets to indoors,” said the redhead in the back.

“The club would have been a very sought-after roost to rest,” another woman said. She had messy brown hair and sat next to the redhead.

“It would’ve been hard to find another at that time,” Annabel concluded.

“No room at the inns.” The red-haired woman snickered.

“So she could be out there,” Avilon stated, “living on the streets.”

“Dearie, if she was on the streets, then she ain’t alive no more,” Annabel replied with absolutely no trace of pity or sympathy. “Sydney Town ain’t a place to survive on your own.”

The thought made Avilon pause as sadness and fear washed through her, blocking out any other thought. She hadn’t considered that Amelia could be…dead. Not her beautiful, vivacious sister. They were only a year apart in age, Avilon being the elder. It was why she had gone to Aunt Verity. Amelia had one year left in finishing school, and Aunt Verity had admitted she preferred Avilon’s composure, decorum, and manners. Amelia had always been just a tad rambunctious.

And like the good little girl she’d always been, Avilon hadn’t protested at all when Amelia had been shipped off to Odell’s house. Now that glaring mistake seemed like it had snowballed into something out of control.

“Surely there’s a record of who worked here,” Avilon stated, thinking, “an accounts receivable from the money of your…gentlemen friends.”

“The only one who would have that information is Mr. Braddock.”

Avilon blinked. “I don’t think I trust him, or Mr. Masters, for that matter.”

“Of course not, dearie. They’re men.”

The other women gave various snorts of agreement.

“What did he mean about me staying here?”

“The girls stay on the second floor.”

Avilon shook her head. “But I’m not hiring my services out. I’m just singing.”

“Of course you are, dearie,” Annabel said and gave her a conspiratorial wink. “But no worries. The door has a lock on it.”

Avilon stood inside her assigned room on the second floor, clutching her cloak tightly in her arms. The area was sparse in both appearance and charm, threadbare down to the bones. A small bed, an armoire, and a washstand, that was all. Not even a blanket bedecked the white-on-white décor.

“Are all the rooms like this?” she asked.

“Eh,” Annabel replied, her hands on her hips. “Doesn’t look like much, but you can decorate however you want.”

“I think I’ll stay at my current place of residence for now.”

Annabel’s eyebrows rose. “Don’t know about that, dearie. Mr. Masters might not be too keen on one of his girls—”

“I’m not one of his girls,” Avilon stated firmly. She turned to walk out of the room, ending that line of conversation. “I suppose I should spend time with the piano man. What’s his name?”

“Homer,” Annabel replied as she fell into step next to her. “He’s a decent bloke.”

Avilon looked down at the floor below them, seeing Jason Braddock talking with several men, including the one named Ellis from earlier. “What about him?”

“Mr. Braddock?” Annabel snorted. “I’ve heard stories about him and Mr. Masters. They like to share women.”

Avilon had meant Ellis, but her mind went completely blank as she wondered if she had heard Annabel correctly. She stopped walking and turned to her. “Did you say ‘share’? I don’t understand.”

“Sometimes two men can put a woman between them during the sex. One in front and one in back.”

“In the back? Do you mean…as in, back there?”

“Ah, don’t knock it till you try it, dearie. It can feel amazing with the right man. Or men.”

Avilon shot a quick glance back down to Jason. Visions of him and Eli Masters suddenly filled her imagination, both men surrounding her, kissing her, caressing her. Annabel’s words swirled through her mind, and the thought of both men possessing her filled her with a sense of confusion. Would they be potent lovers? Demanding? Would they treat a woman with kindness, affection?

Her parents had been devoutly pious people, perhaps a tad harsh in their beliefs. Her Aunt Verity had been the complete opposite, with a brand of parenting that had included hugs, kisses, and praises. Even on their travels throughout Europe, her aunt had always sought out the more tantalizing aspects of human nature. The two views had clashed horribly, and it took Avilon a while to reconcile both upbringings.

As if sensing her, Jason looked up and caught her gaze. For a moment, the world dimmed, as if someone was slowly turning down the lights until only he and she were left. His brilliant green eyes pinned her, and she couldn’t look away. Threads of something…intangible pulled at her, until all she wanted to do was run toward him. That inexplicable need baffled her. Never in her life had she ever wanted to touch a man more than she did at that moment. Her palms actually itched to run over his hair, his face, to trace the smooth lines of his chest and shoulders.

It wasn’t until Annabel actually shook her that the ethereal connection with Jason broke. Avilon blinked and stepped back from the railing. When her back hit the wall, she stopped retreating, but her heart continued to pound in her chest. She felt hot and cold all over, and a fine mist of sweat graced her forehead.

“Oh my,” Annabel murmured, causing Avilon to look questioningly at her. “I never thought I’d see it.”

“See what?” Avilon rasped in a dry voice.

“That was more than lust, dearie. That was destiny.”

Avilon took a deep breath as she pushed away the incredibly erotic moment. “I haven’t the foggiest notion what you mean,” she replied and continued on.

“Well, I can assure you Mr. Braddock has never looked at one of us girls that way,” Annabel mused.

Despite herself, she felt relieved. “No?”

“Not one time has he or Mr. Masters visited us girls.”

As they walked down the stairs, Avilon couldn’t help but look for Jason, but he was no longer around. Still, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and she felt inordinately pleased knowing that Annabel didn’t know Jason’s touch.

Homer sat at the piano, seducing a mournful tune from the beautiful instrument. His eyes were closed as his long, leathery fingers stretched for the keys, playing the song by memory. It struck her that her style of singing may not mesh with Homer’s more down-to-earth playing, and her mind started sorting how they were going to work together.

When the music ended, Avilon clapped, causing Homer to start in surprise. He shot her a steady but carefully blank look.