Lynn - Best Served Cold

Published by Mojocastle Press, LLC

Haymarket, Virginia

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Best Served Cold

ISBN: 978-1-60180-036-7

Copyright @2014 Sandy Lynn

Cover Art Copyright @2014 Morgan Hawke

All rights reserved.

Excluding legitimate review sites and review publications, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Copying, scanning, uploading, selling and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without permission from the publisher is illegal, punishable by law and will be prosecuted.

Available online at:

http://www.mojocastle.com/

Also By Sandy Lynn:

Leigh: Drama Queen in Training Series

Beneath the Surface: Club Strigoi Book One

Novel Experience: Club Strigoi Book Two

Club Strigoi Shots: Phoenix

Club Strigoi Shots: Chameleon

Club Strigoi Shots: Chimera

Everyday Masks

Dedication:

For my Dee, who has stood beside me no matter what.

And for my editor and readers, for patiently waiting for this story to be finished.

Chapter One

Stacy stood outside the door and wondered if she could go inside. The door looked just like any other in the hallway, but for the writing on the milky surface, and the strange sense of foreboding that seemed to emanate from it.

BSC

By appointment only.

Please ring the bell for service.

Lifting her finger to press the small button to the right of the door, she froze. She didnt even know what the initials stood for. She wasnt sure if she should trust the strange woman shed met at the bar a few nights before.

She hadnt known what to do when she found proof that her husband of nine years was cheating on her, but she knew that the underwear shed found when doing his laundry certainly did not belong to her. Considering she never wore thongs, she was positive they werent supposed to have been a surprise gift.

Though she may have had her head in the sand and allowed herself to be nave about certain things, her eyes were now wide open. Like the way hed been going to hang out with the guys more and more often lately. And the oddly frequent business trips that only used to happen once in a blue moon. After a very stressful visit to a divorce attorney, she couldnt stand the thought of going home immediately, especially after learning she had no real options until she was able to move out on her own. Or at least, thats all she could do without solid proof. So shed gone to a random bar, ordered a drink and did the preverbal crying into it. Though instead of beer, shed chosen to cry in her favorite drink: an Alabama Slammer.

Three drinks later, some guy approached her. She couldnt seem to help spilling the entire story while he was trying to hit on her. She hadnt even cared when he walked away halfway through it. But the woman sitting next to her seemed interested, and shed needed to tell someone, to get it all out. When her story was over and her tears had finally slowed down, the stranger nodded. Reaching into her bag, the woman pulled out a plain white business card with the initials BSC and a phone number. All the woman would say was Call that number when youre ready to settle the score.

Stacy kept the card in her pocket. She told herself that she wouldnt bother calling. Though she appreciated the woman listening to her sob story, she wasnt sure what she meant. After a few days, curiosity had gotten the best of her, and she called. A pleasant voice answered the phone and set an appointment for her to come in to the office.

Now it was almost time for her appointment, and she was seriously thinking about retreating. No one knew she was standing outside the door. She could walk away, and no one had to be the wiser.

Her decision made, she had taken only a step away from the door when she heard it open behind her.

Stacy Jones?

Her eyes closed at the sound of the pleasant voice behind her. She almost groaned. Slowly turning to face the woman who had spoken, she plastered a smile on her face. Hi.

Youre right on time. Please come in. Ms. Pope will see you in a just a moment.

Feeling trapped, she entered the door that was being held open for her. She wasnt sure what to expect once she was inside the office, but the chocolate covered walls and suede furniture were nowhere near the top of her list. On the opposite side of the office was a rather simplistic looking door. It looked like something she would find inside of someones home rather than a business.

Your office is so... She wasnt sure what to say. What could she say without sounding pompous?

We like to keep it homey. We want to take the stress off of anyone who has the courage to call. The woman sat down behind a desk. There was a brass name plate that proudly told all that the secretarys name was Tina Reynolds.

What does BSC stand for, if you dont mind me asking?

It means Her answer was interrupted by a buzz. Tina picked up the phone. Yes, Ms. Pope? Ill send her straight in. Hanging up, she gave a sad smile. Ms. Pope will see you now. Just go straight through that door and its the second office on your left.

Stacy stood up and approached the suddenly formidable door, though nothing about it had changed.

Ms. Jones?

Yes. She paused.

Whatever you do, dont enter any door but the second on your left.

With the warning ringing in her ears, she entered the doorway. A blast of cold pushed past her. But before she could wonder if that was a bad sign, she saw doorways to the right and left of her.

Moans came from her right. She wasnt sure if they were from pleasure or pain, and was suddenly reminded of a horror movie shed seen as a teenager. Had she made a deal with the devil? Or was she on her way to do so?

Positioning her hand to knock on the required door, she took a deep breath. Shed simply explain that it had all been a horrible mistake.

Straightening her shoulders, she knocked with what she felt was purpose.

The door opened and she could see a beautiful woman with mahogany hair sitting in front of a large desk. Welcome, Stacy. Ive been expecting your call. I wasnt sure if you would give in to the temptation or not. But, you did, just before the deadline.

Deadline? What deadline? I heard nothing about a deadline. And besides, Im not staying. This is a mistake, and I wont go through with it. Especially when I dont know what it is...

Oh, its not a strict deadline. Weve simply noticed that if a person has not contacted us within five days of receiving our card, they probably will not do so.

Stacys mouth dropped open in shock. What the hell? She was positive she hadnt spoken out loud.

Now, do you really want to stand there and ask me for answers you can figure out yourself, or do you want to ask whats really on your mind? The womans ruby red lips tilted in a patient smile.

What does BSC stand for? Her voice came out soft. She couldnt believe she was going along with this craziness.

Not the question I thought youd start with. Im impressed. Not many people can fool me. Placing her elbows on the desk, the mysterious Ms. Pope leaned forward. BSC stands for Best Served Cold.

Questions littered her mind. What did that mean? Was it some obscure reference that she should have known? Shouldnt a place called Best Served Cold be in the ice cream business? What was going on?