"They apparently hand over the security tapes, as well. There's been one incidence there before, and the woman was fined."
"I bet the club had been clean since." Knowing the owners would follow through with the threat of legal action if anyone broke the rules would surely be warning enough to most. "And my profile?"
"Liander has it already. And Riley? Keep the tracker on this time."
"Will do." I hung up and headed home.
Liander was waiting for me, an array of bottles and other goodies laid out over the kitchen table. I'd barely walked in the door when he pointed an imperious finger in the direction of the bathroom. "Shower first."
I frowned and sniffed. "I don't smell that bad."
"You smell of sex, and sweat, which in itself is usually a lovely aroma, but I prefer to work with a clean subject. Besides, you need to erase your base scent, just in case anyone there is a werewolf that recognizes you. I put the soap in the shower holder."
I started stripping as I walked across the room. "Where's Rhoan?"
"Gone back undercover. I don't expect him to surface for a couple of days."
I stopped and looked at him. "So you'll be here alone?"
"I can cope with being alone," he said dryly. "I did it for many, many years before I moved in here."
"But-"
"I'm fine, Riley. Really."
"So no more baby-sitting?"
"No. Although you can still pamper me any old time you please."
"Ha," I said. "If you're better, you become just a regular old member of the family. No pampering, and no one running after you."
"Excellent. Now go shower."
I did, taking longer than I should thanks to the fact that half a mountain of dirt seemed to be lodged under my toenails after last night's run.
"So, what sort of look are we going for this time?" I said when I finally sat down. One of the packets on the table was a voice modulator, and my cheek began to throb in pain at the mere thought of having it inserted.
"Brown with red and gold highlights," he said, lifting my hair and running it through his fingers. Which I knew from experience meant he was going to cut it, too. "So we'll be able to keep some of your natural color-both up top and down below."
Thank goodness for that. I mean, dyeing that hair was above and beyond the call of duty. "And it will wash out, won't it?"
I asked this question every single time he did this, and even though the answer was always the same, I still asked it. I liked my hair color, and I hated risking the dyes. Because one of these days, I just knew fate was going to stick me with something goddamn awful.
Liander gave a much-put-upon sort of sigh. "Of course it will, if only because you would be unbearable if it didn't, and I now have to share an apartment with you."
I grinned. "Too right, makeup man. So, are we staying with gray eyes?"
"Nope. They'll be green. And your voice will be modulated down to raspy."
"Raspy? Why that?"
"Because it sounds sexy in a semidark environment. Which the club is, apparently. Now shut up and let the master work."
I snorted softly, but let him get to it, watching him work through the mirror he'd propped in front of me.
The result was surprisingly sexy. The chocolaty brown played against my own natural color, setting it off rather than clashing, and it contrasted nicely against the warm gold of my skin. The green eyes looked startling, and although I'd feared my hair being cut, all he did was give it some shape.
It was me, and yet not.