Chapter One As Bridget Rodgers stared at the old meat-packing warehouse, she kept seeing flashes of the movie Hostel in her head. According to her friend, the invite-only, highly gossiped about Leather and Lace club was the place to be. But from the cemented-over windows and graffiti-sprayed exterior walls, in what were probably gang symbols, plus the dim flickering light from the nearby lamppost, Bridget figured most patrons of this club ended up on missing persons posters or on the evening news. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this, Shell. We’re probably going to become some perverted rich man’s victim by midnight.” Bridget straightened the thick leather belt around the waist of her dress. The belt was purple, of course, and her sweater dress a deep red. Her signature look was a bit gaudy, but at least it would help the police identify her body later. Shell passed her a droll look. “You don’t even want to know what I had to do to get an invite to this club.” She waved the business card–sized paper in front of Bridget’s face. “We’re going to have fun doing something different. Boo on the local watering holes.” For all the hoopla surrounding Leather and Lace, one would think it would be in a better location than Foggy Bottom. With the creepy, unsightly look to it and the fog rolling in every night, it seemed doubtful