Read Online Compact with the Devil: A Novel by Bethany Maines - Free Book Online Page A

one else seemed to care, but she felt she was crossing some professional boundary line—as if it were impolite to notice that the emperor had no clothes on. She glanced back and caught Kit’s eye; he winked, clearly enjoying himself, and Nikki looked away again, blushing.
    “Pants!” Trista snapped at Nikki, who dutifully handed over the rough-grained leather pants. “Step,” she said to Kit. Kit stepped into the pants, and the mustache-wearing man and Trista grabbed at the waistline and yanked upward until he was fully inthe pants. Shoes came next, but when Nikki held out the shirt Kit waved it away.
    “It’s blistering under the lights, don’t need it.”
    “Fine,” said Trista, and set about powdering him. He stood for it, but impatiently. “You’re going to be great,” she said, pinching his chin and smiling. Kit was nodding before she’d even finished.
    “I’ve got to get back out there!” Kit said to Trista, grinning from ear to ear. “The crowd is awesome tonight!” He stepped onto the platform, squatting a little before nodding to the technician, who pushed a button. The platform shot upward, and Kit was gone.
    Nikki checked her watch. The entire change had taken less than four minutes. She scanned the area for mustache man; she wanted another look at him.
    “Trista, if you’re going to have guests you need to clear it with me or Mr. Dettling,” said the girl in the headset.
    “Well, thank you for that information, Angela, but I believe that it’s Kit’s tour, not Mr. Dettling’s,” snapped Trista. “And Kit knows that I bring in anyone who helps me get the job done. Now, why don’t you go do your job?” Trista took Nikki by the elbow and swept back toward the dressing room. Angela’s face was frozen in a scowling mask of fury.
    The mustache man was standing between them and the dressing room.
    “I don’t care if you clear it with Kit or Brandt, but new hires get vetted through me. I want her info in my hands by the end of the night.”
    “No problem, Duncan,” said Trista, smiling tightly. “It’s just a last-minute thing.”
    Duncan didn’t return the smile and instead gave a curt nod before stalking away. Trista muttered something Nikki didn’tcatch and continued to drag Nikki back to the dressing room. Nikki watched him go. He was far too tall and broad-shouldered to be Tracksuit, but he still set off little alarm bells.
    “I need to borrow your phone,” said Nikki.
    “My phone?” repeated Trista.
    “To call my team,” said Nikki, holding out her hand.
    “Ooh, you have ‘teams’ now, do you? In my day, all a Carrie Mae lady had was her wit, her charm, and herself.”
    Nikki threw her eyes heavenward and counted to ten. “Well, these days we try not to leave anyone stranded. Phone?”
    Reluctantly, Trista handed over the phone. “I’ll just give you some privacy then, shall I?” she asked rhetorically, exiting quietly.
    Nikki waved distractedly and stared at the phone, only then realizing that she had no way of contacting Astriz. Without a company phone or a computer, she was out here on her own. So much for her pep talk about teams. Frowning, she dialed a number that she knew by heart.
    “This is Jane,” said Jane after two rings. She sounded very businesslike and slightly annoyed.
    “Jane, it’s Nikki. I need your help. You still bored enough to come in off the beach?”
    “You better believe it!” exclaimed Jane. “What’s up?”
    Briefly Nikki recounted her evening’s adventure, backtracking periodically to answer Jane’s questions.
    “OK,” said Jane at the end. “So you have several problems here.”
    “Lay it on me,” said Nikki. This was Jane’s usual method: assess, dissect, offer methods of attack.
    “Cano and this guy Voges … Just who and what did Voges set him up with? We’d know a lot more about Cano’s intentions if we knew what kind of stuff he’d picked up.”
    “I agree,” said Nikki. “But Astriz seemed to think Voges was