Into the Mist

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She had the look of a woman on a mission. Eli Chance recognized a sexual predator when he saw one. And damn if he didn’t want to be her next victim.

He watched from his perch at the bar as she waded through the mass of writhing bodies on the dance floor. Music boomed and swelled, bouncing off the walls and shaking the room. The tight techno beat wielded a frenetic energy, reflected in the wildly rotating laser lights.

The popular Singapore nightclub sheltered a wide variety of people and types, from the very young—too young to be in a nightclub—to the not much older orange-haired, pierced, tattooed throwbacks to the eighties. Mixed in were the deadbeats, those who dealt in prostitution rings, gun running and drug dealing.

And yet, he’d bet his last dollar his mystery woman fell into none of those categories.

She paused on the outer rim of the dance floor, her gaze searching the crowd beyond. Then her eyes settled on him. She moved forward again, her long, dark hair sliding like silk over her shoulders.

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