RESIDENT EVIL PIERSHERRY

Chapter 15

AS SOON AS they arrived at Manor House, thanks to the reservation
Sherry had made several weeks prior (and, possibly, also thanks to a
flash of Piers's trusty FBI badge) their entire party was shuffled inside and
promptly escorted to the VIP room.
Piers walked by Sherry's side along the candelabra-lit hallway,
taking in their surroundings.
"Interesting place," he said.
Indeed it was. Manor House fit true to its name. The club had several
rooms on each of its three floors, and every room continued the
turn-of-the-century theme in the original style of the mansion. There was a
library, a study, and even a billiard room. Kind of like the board game Clue,
Sherry had joked to Collin, after dropping by to check the place out for the
bachelorette party.
As she knew from the tour she'd been given when she made the
reservation, the VIP room--the "master suite"--was upstairs. Their party
climbed up the wide oak staircase, with Wilkins in the lead and Piers and
Sherry bringing up the rear. When they got to the top and stepped into the
VIP room, she saw a glimmer of amusement in Piers's eyes.
"Very interesting." He focused on the ornate wood canopied king-sized
bed--yes, a bed--in the corner of the room.
Sherry watched as Amy and the other girls headed over, settled
themselves on the bed, and got down to the serious business of drink orders.
The cousins started hollering for Buttery Nipple shots.
"I give the place a year before the novelty wears off," she told Piers.
Amy strode over and stuck out her hand. "Look what Jolene just gave
me." She held out a beaded necklace with little plastic penises and condom
packets taped to it.
"Oh, look--it's just what you always wanted. A penis necklace. Maybe
that can be your something new for the wedding," Sherry suggested.
"Get rid of it," Amy said. "And make sure there aren't any others."
"I'll get right on it." Both Sherry and Piers watched as Amy hurried back to the bed and demanded that all the girls open their purses for
inspection.
"She seems a little . . . intense about all this," Piers said.
Sherry stuck the penis necklace into her purse. "It's a phase.
Thankfully one that will be over in a week, after the wedding. She's actually a
very sweet person." Not that she was going to bring this up right then, but
after her father had died, Amy had been a godsend. Being the only child of
parents who had divorced years ago, all the responsibility for her father's
funeral arrangements had fallen on Sherry. In her emotional state, she'd
been overwhelmed by the task, to say the least. Without saying a word, Amy
had shown up on her doorstep with a suitcase, moved in for two weeks, and
had taken care of everything Sherry couldn't handle on her own. In
exchange, Sherry figured she could deal with the bridezilla routine.
Wilkins came over to them, carrying what Sherry guessed was a
club soda. "I never made it to the VIP room the last time I was here." He
stared at the waitress who passed by with a bottle of vodka lit up with
sparklers. "No one told me that they've got waitresses dressed up like
turn-of-the-century maids. Ooh--with sparkly things."
Sherry tilted her head in concession at Piers. "Maybe two years
before the novelty wears off."
"NOW THIS IS what I call an assignment."
Piers gestured to the bartender for another club soda. "Soak it in while
you can," he said to Wilkins. "Because they're not all like this."
"Really, this is better than Nebraska?" Wilkins joked.
Piers caught sight of Sherry, sitting on the bed across the room. She
was laughing with Amy and two of the other girls while telling a story. As she
gestured, the neck of her belted sweater slipped down, once again exposing
her shoulder and the thin strap of her camisole. He watched as she reached
forward to put her hand on Amy's arm and her camisole dipped lower,
revealing a hint of what appeared to be a lacy black bra. "It's not all bad, I
suppose," he found himself murmuring.
He turned back and caught his partner's expression. "Don't say it."
"Say what?" Wilkins asked innocently. "Oh . . . you mean I shouldn't
comment on the fact that you haven't taken your eyes off her since we got here? Is that what I'm not supposed to talk about?"
"It's my job--our job--to watch her."
Wilkins nodded. "Of course."
Piers muttered under his breath. At least in Nebraska a man could
glance at a woman once or twice--for professional reasons--in peace.
He stole another look, for security purposes, and watched as the
sweater once again slid away from her collarbone, inching down, taunting
him, teasing him, dipping lower and lower, revealing creamy ivory skin and
that delicate gray silk strap he could rip away with his teeth.
A shoulder. He was going crazy over a fucking shoulder .
He swore, turning to Wilkins. "What's the deal with that sweater,
anyway? Is there a reason she can't keep herself clothed? Did she buy the
wrong size? Seriously, somebody needs to throw a coat over that woman."
He shoved away from the bar. "I'm going to walk the room. Make sure
everything is still secure."
AMY LEANED OVER and whispered in Sherry's ear. "Okay, now
he's pacing back and forth."
"You don't have to give me the play-by-play," Sherry whispered
back. "If I want to know what he's doing, I'll just look myself."
Of course, that's exactly what she did. She snuck a quick glance
across the room and watched as Piers did a loop around the bar, then looked
back. When he saw her watching him, he turned and began crossing the
room toward her, like a panther stalking its prey. From the intense look in his
eyes--whatever he was about to say--he was a man on a mission.
Sitting next to her, Amy was wide-eyed, mesmerized at the sight of
Piers heading over in all his seemingly pissed-off-once-again glory. "I
changed my mind, Cam. If this was all a big setup and he's coming over to
strip for me, I think I can handle it. I definitely can handle it."
Hearing Amy's words, the other girls stopped talking. Following her
gaze, they turned to watch as Piers approached. He stopped in front of the
bed of women who lounged about like a sultan's idle harem and stared down
at Sherry.
"I want to talk to you."
"Okay. Talk."