Chapter 60
Genevieve
Once again in the wolves’ den, I prowl past the hostess and the dark wall where the sconces cast an eerie, moody glow. Beasts beneath me on the food chain gather in small packs to gossip and laugh, filling the bar with a low, warbling hum that drowns out the ambient music.
Prey of varying sizes and shapes take stock of me as I make my way to the bar, their gazes prickling my skin. While the news of my arrest and subsequent release has quieted, I’m not na?ve enough to think these patrons aren’t aware of the apex predator now sitting among them.
Maybe I should’ve taken Corinne up on her offer to be the one to do this tonight, but I couldn’t stand the idea of putting her in danger. Besides, my bloodthirst is something I must quench myself.
After speaking to Henry, it took me two long days of planning and digging for information. The nights have been late and the mornings early, getting organized and prepared for this evening.
Then there’s those little scars Ford is sporting. Something about them troubles me, but I can’t quite figure out why. All I know is I’ve spent far too many hours thinking about them.
I’m anxious to get this over with and get home.
Not just because I’ve begun to look forward to eating the food Ford leaves for me, but because I miss him.
I’ve come to love the sight of his briefcase resting on the bench in the foyer and the way the penthouse always seems to smell like black pepper and tobacco, though I’ve never seen him smoke.
I even like the rock music that blares from the gym in the wee hours of the morning.
Not wanting to wake him, I haven’t slept in his bed since the night of the gala, and I crave the way his body nestles perfectly against mine.
What’s worse, I’ve hardly seen him long enough to ask him about the kink list. We never got to have that breakfast together that morning, since he was on the phone with an investor before I left.
Even more tragic, we haven’t been able to act on any of those things I’m growing desperate to experience with him.
Exactly where I was told I’d find my target, I perch myself on the vacant barstool, and purr, my voice like warm chocolate. “Is this seat taken?”
His head flicks toward me, the white flecks in his salt-and-pepper hair like lightning streaks amid the warm light as his eyes visibly widen when recognition sets in. I’m not surprised to learn that Ford’s intel was right, especially after discovering that he owns this bar.
According to the paper trail of his receipts, Scott Moorland is at this bar every Tuesday at five o’clock, sitting in the same spot, drinking the same cocktail. I’d need a cocktail, or ten, if I were Percy York’s Chief of Staff, too.
“I know who you are,” he states by way of greeting, his tone carrying an edge.
My lips curl, but before I can respond, the bartender appears. I order an extra dirty martini with four olives and turn my attention back to the man next to me. “Not in the same way you know Audra, though.”
I savor the way his throat bobs, memorize the flare of his nostrils, and delight in the manner in which he tosses back the rest of his Negroni at the mention of one of my girls.
It was actually Marcus who suggested combing through my client list to confirm he wasn’t on it.
It wasn’t until I found a Seth Moore who met with Audra twice seven years ago that I realized I had an ace to play.
According to my records, they only had penetrative sex once.
I have no idea what they did during their other meeting, but it wasn’t sex, and he paid for the time.
No one’s required to share with me what transpires.
Since Audra doesn’t work for me anymore after having moved back to Lithuania, I can’t ask her.
Although, I don’t need to. Reminding Seth that I know his dirty little secret is enough.
This city is a ruthless jungle. The top dogs are consistently eaten by hungrier, more unscrupulous alphas; the hunters become the hunted as the rules evolve and the cycle repeats like a wheel that never stops spinning. The thing that’s constant is the threat camouflaged against the jungle floor.
Forgotten about, I slither through the grass, hidden among the vegetation until my jaws unhinge and my fangs sink into my victim. By then, it’s too late. They should’ve remembered who rules this ecosystem.
The price of selling their secrets is overshadowed by the promising reward of sex. It’s not until they violate the rules, and Death takes a bite, that they understand the threat that lurks among them.
Scott Moorland is simply collateral damage, and he’ll be able to avoid complete necrosis if he cooperates.
“Why are you here?” he grits out after signaling to the bartender that he needs another drink just as mine is delivered.
My smile is warlike. “My guess is that you know exactly why I’m here, in the same way you know who I am.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But he contradicts himself by lowering his voice and ducking his chin.
“Are you sure?” I slant my head to the side. “You really aren’t aware of the sex ring that Percy Yo—”
His hand darts out, clutching my forearm tightly, imploring me to shut the hell up. “Lower your voice,” he hisses.
My grin widens. “Ah, so you do know what he’s up to. It’d be a shame if he found out you were talking to me tonight.”
“What the fuck do you want?”
My fingers wrap around the stem of my martini glass. “A favor; a little slice of information about the extortion your boss seems to love so much.”
He snorts. “It’s not a favor, if you’re blackmailing me for it.”
My giggle sounds like rain on a tin roof.
I lift my martini to my lips while he seethes silently, the tangy, salty gin coating my throat so that I’m breathing raw power.
“Call it whatever you like, Seth, the outcome will be the same. Either you take the hit or someone else does, the choice is yours.”
“And you won’t mention my name?”
Pressing my forefinger and thumb together, I mime zipping my lips.
Wisps of silence envelop the two of us in a thin blanket for several moments, before Scott murmurs bitterly, “What do you know about the growing conflict in Kazakhstan?”
I arch an eyebrow, urging him to continue, the first secret that I collected swirling in my mind. I take money from Kazakhstan and do their bidding.
Please don’t be involved, I pray in my mind, knowing that it won’t matter. He’s involved. That means he’s no longer safe, not from me, even as a corner of my heart weeps.