After work, they stopped at Eames' place so she could change into something more appropriate for Lager des Teufels. She chose black slacks and a black silk shirt with heeled boots. But she drew the line at black eyeshadow and lipstick. As she came out of the bedroom, she said, "I hope this is gloomy enough, because this is as good as it gets."

Goren smiled and pulled her into a hug. "I have no complaints," he assured her.

She rested her head on his chest and listened to the steady thumping of his heart. "How important is it for you to understand Ethan and his people?"

"Only as important as it has to be to solve this case," he answered, kissing the top of her head.

After another moment of silence, she pulled back from his embrace and looked at him. "Don't get lost," she said.

He shook his head. "As long as I have you, I won't be going anywhere permanently."

She wasn't fully satisfied by his promise because it still meant he would do what he had to do to get the job done, but on the other hand, he would always come back to her. And it was that bottom line that always gave her hope.

He touched her chin and tipped her face toward his. Gently, he stroked the worry lines that creased her brow. "Don't worry about me," he said. "I know my way back."

He kissed her softly and she gave him another hug. "Let's get this over with."

After a brief stop at his apartment so he could change into a black shirt and jeans, they headed to Soho for the evening.

Eames parked down the street from the club and got out of the car. She stepped up onto the sidewalk near the front bumper and looked down the block. She felt her partner's presence behind her before his hands came to rest on her waist. "Ready?" he asked.

"This club sets me on edge. It really gives me the creeps and Lord Ethan, or whoever he is, doesn't help matters any. Let's just get this over and done with so we can go home. I'm going to take a nice, long, hot shower."

He groaned softly at the image that conjured in his head and his grip on her waist tightened. He brought his mouth close to her ear and whispered, "Can I watch?"

"Even better, you can join me," she answered, enjoying his closeness.

He was tempted to get back in the car and take her up on her offer right away, but his sense of duty overrode his need for pleasure. "Count on it," he growled softly.

She smiled, now familiar with the gruff tone he used when he was frustrated and he wanted her. She turned her head to look at him. Since they were parked midway between two streetlights, his face was cast in shadow from two light sources, but she could see the desire in his eyes and she smiled.

Unexpectedly caught up in her smile, for a moment he couldn't move, couldn't look away. Leaning in, he kissed her. When his tongue teased her lips, she opened her mouth, accepting him as she pressed her body into his. As much as she wanted to lose herself in his arms, she knew better and reluctantly broke the kiss. She stepped back, afraid of losing all sense of perspective...and control. "The sooner we finish here, the sooner we can go home," she said as she ran her fingertips over his lips.

When he caught her fingers with his lips, she made a soft noise that cruised down his spine, straight into his groin, but she moved away and grabbed his hand. He closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in a few slow, deep breaths. Then he let her lead him down the street to the club. She was full of surprises, but nothing caught him more off-guard than his own reaction to her honestly passionate responses to him.

By the time they arrived at the club's front entrance, he had a handle on himself and she was back to business. They went into the club.

Eames suppressed a shudder as they entered the dark club. It was just as busy as it had been the night before, and the patrons seemed to be having a good time, without the reservations that plagued her. She saw no sign of the same reticence in her partner. He was interested, curious...classic Goren. She hid a small smile.

Goren scanned the club. A different bartender worked the bar. Still holding Eames' hand, he led her to a semi-circular booth on the far side of the dance floor. His eyes darted around the room as they walked, and once they had a seat, he had a good look at their surroundings.

Eames slid along the seat until she was beside him and they both had a good vantage point of almost the entire club, including the door to Ethan's office. A waitress approached the booth, smiling from behind dark glasses. "Welcome to Lager des Teufels. My name is Sandy. What can I get for you?"

Goren made a motion toward his face with his index finger. "Can you remove the glasses? I like to see a woman's eyes when I talk to her."

With a pleased smile, the young woman slipped the glasses from her face. "There you are, handsome. Now—what can I get for you?"

He looked at Eames and said, "Vodka martini, light on the vermouth?"

When she nodded, he returned his attention to the waitress. The first thing he noticed was her eyes, which were yellow, reminding him of the description they'd been given of Warren's eyes. He smiled and leaned forward, over the table toward her. "Your eyes...they're a very unusual color. The glasses...?"

"I'm very light sensitive, and the glasses prevent headaches. It's why I work at night, too."

"The rest of the wait staff, is it the same for them?"

She nodded. "I guess Ethan looks for a certain type for his staff. Now what can I get for you to drink?"

"Uh, Glenlivet, please. Neat."

"A scotch man..." she purred as she replaced her glasses on her nose. "I'll be right back with your drinks."

They watched her walk away, and Eames said, "A certain type...I wonder what type that might be."

"Warren was a patron, not part of Ethan's staff...and he had the same kind of eyes. Maybe she knows Warren."

Sandy quickly returned, smiling brightly at Goren, which amused Eames. Goren gave her another charming smile as she placed their drinks on the table in front of them. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, honey. Ask away."

"This club was recommended to us by a friend, and we were kind of hoping he'd be here. Maybe you've seen him? His name is Warren."

Sandy's demeanor suddenly became nervous. "Warren? No, I don't think so."

Goren watched her try to steady the tray in her shaking hand. "Is Ethan a difficult man to work for?" he asked.

"No. No, he's not. I'd better check on my other tables."

She hurried away, and Goren looked at his partner. "We got a reaction."

"I'll say. She knows Warren, but she's too frightened to say so. Something about him is taboo around here."

"Like Ethan said, he screwed up so they took care of him."

Eames nodded. "I didn't get the impression that he had Warren killed, though. Maybe he was just sent away, like a little kid being sent to time out."

"Ethan does think of him as being young."

"But what about Ethan himself? He doesn't appear to be much older than Warren must be."

With a shrug, Goren took a drink. "Appearances can be deceiving, Eames."

He returned his attention to the club around them. If he had to come up with a general classification for most of the patrons around him, it would be Goth. Dark hair, pale skin, black makeup, nail polish, clothes. They were young, much younger than he and Eames, although there were several older patrons. As easily as he was able to blend in to most any scene, he felt out of place in the club. But it had nothing to do with his age or his attire. It had more to do with his attitude, with the way he felt when he was with Eames. That was what set him apart from the couples around them. He didn't doubt their ability to feel love, but he wondered how uplifting it could be when it was surrounded by darkness.

While the two detectives made their observations, a minor commotion took place at the bar. The bouncer stepped out of the shadows as an angry man demanded that the bartender take him to Ethan. The bartender motioned for the bouncer to watch the bar as he guided the customer to Ethan's office, bidding him wait in the hallway for a moment as he slipped through the office door.

"Master," he said apologetically. "An angry customer wishes a few words with you."

"About what, Jeremy?"

"He did not say."

"Show him in but attend."

"Yes, sir."

Jeremy led the man into the office. Ethan leaned back in his chair, bracing his elbows on the arms as he tented his fingers in front of him. "How may I help you?" he asked pleasantly.

"You own this devil's den?"

"Devil's Lair, if you will, but yes, I am the owner."

"You hired my girlfriend, Stephanie, last month. I ain't seen her since, until last night, and she...she ain't the same! What did you and your demons do to her?"

"Demons? Really, you could find a less repulsive moniker."

The young man shrieked in frustration. "Answer me, dammit! I want my girl back!"

"If she has chosen to move on, that is hardly my fault."

"I told you, she ain't the same! You did something to her!"

Ethan studied the trembling man. "Jeremy, out in the club, the couple seated at Table 21 are police detectives. Perhaps they could be of some assistance in convincing our friend here to calm down."

Jeremy bowed slightly at the waist and hurried from the office to the table where Goren and Eames were seated. "Please," he said in a hurried tone, obviously unused to trouble. "Lord Ethan requests your assistance with a patron in his office."

The two detectives exchanged looks, and Jeremy practically jumped up and down. "Please!"

Taking the young bartender's panic at face value, they slid from the booth and followed him to the owner's office. By the time they got there, the angry boyfriend had a gun in his shaking hands. Neither Goren nor Eames were prepared for the sight, and her hand went directly to the gun at her hip. Goren, on the other hand, moved forward, into the young man's peripheral vision.

The man shifted, holding the gun so that it covered both Goren and Ethan. Goren held up a hand. "Take it easy, man. Why don't you tell us what's wrong?"

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice practically a shriek.

"We're police officers." Moving his right hand slowly while keeping his left hand in plain sight, he unclipped his badge from his belt and held it out. "I'd feel a lot better if you lowered the gun."

The young man looked at Goren's badge, then at Eames, who held her gun leveled at him. He shook his head. "Not gonna happen. I came here to get my girl or kill the bastard who took her away—him!"

Goren took a couple of tentative steps toward the desk. "What's your name?"

"Roger," he answered. "He did something to my girl! She loved me! We were gonna get married. Then she took a job here as a waitress and suddenly I ain't good enough for her!"

As always, Eames marveled at her partner's ability to remain so calm when facing the business end of a gun held by someone determined to use it. She kept her weapon leveled at Roger.

Goren stopped near the desk, keeping Roger's attention on him. "Tell me what you think happened," he encouraged.

Ethan watched the scene unfold, seemingly amused and definitely unruffled. Although Goren showed outward calm, Eames could see the sweat that beaded on his forehead. Ethan, however, could have been watching a play for all the concern he showed. That annoyed her.

Roger's hands were still shaking, and Goren knew that with his finger resting against the trigger the way it was, the gun could go off at any time, intentionally or not. When Roger spoke, there was a note of hysteria in his tone. "She's my girl! Since we were freshmen in high school, she's been mine! Then she comes here to work and suddenly it's all him! No! No! No! He can't have her!"

In that moment, several things happened simultaneously. Ethan rose to his feet, although neither detective understood why. Roger's eyes narrowed with an intent that Goren read, and as Roger shifted his position slightly toward the club owner, Goren reacted.

The office then dissolved into chaos as gunfire shattered the solitude. Goren lunged in front of the desk, positioning himself between Roger and Ethan. Fire burned deep in his chest and then, there was nothing.

Reacting at the same moment as her partner, Eames held her gun level, watching Roger fall to the ground with her bullet in him. As she lowered her weapon, she saw her partner on the floor, a pool of red rapidly growing around him. "Oh, my God...no..." she whispered as panic grabbed her heart. She dropped her weapon and ran toward him. "Call an ambulance!"

From someplace outside her area of awareness, hands grabbed her before she got to Goren. "No!" she shouted as she struggled against the restraining hands. She felt a sharp prick in the side of her neck, and a heavy blanket of darkness enveloped her.