Gabrielle Stevens allowed the name of the club to roll off her tongue. This was crazy. What had her sister been doing, hanging out in a club for goths? At least that was the story, according to one of Alexandria’s neighbors. Elle had knocked on every door of anyone Alex had ever mentioned in her e-mails and phone calls. No one had seen her sister for at least three weeks. The only lead left to check out was this club with the sinful name near Fairfield University, where someone had spotted Alex the weekend before she’d disappeared. Sitting on the edge of her sister’s bed, Elle slid her feet into the new black leather, four-inch-heel boots she’d bought for tonight. So not her normal style. There was way more heel than she was used to, since she was already considered somewhat tall at five eight, but she had to admit they made her feel ultra-sexy. She leaned over and smoothed her hands along the buttery-soft cowhide encasing her calves up to her knees. Man, she did love the feel of nice leather.
