Chapter 40
CHAPTER
FORTY
Beck
Real estate rarely moved fast, but with a demon greasing the wheels, things rolled right along.
It rankled me to help Maslow purchase another property, especially considering how he’d bragged about his Hellish pipeline.
It opened the door for him to carry on building his seedy empire, bringing in new demons to drain and dole out to the angels.
My only solace was the suspicion that he would be hard-pressed to develop his new investment considering the dam I was about to put in his income stream.
With paperwork in hand and Colette on my heels, I showed up at the Dollhouse at midday. The bouncers didn’t blink this time before granting me admittance. Maslow must have warned them I was coming, and he was bound to be gleeful.
I was too.
Inside, the dancers were on the stage and around it. Music poured from the speakers in a moody, ethereal tune I thought I recognized. Above the floor, Zephyr was suspended in silk, bent in half with the fabric wound around his waist and one leg.
I paused, holding my breath as the music reached its peak.
He arched back, perpendicular to the floor, then twisted, and the whole thing came unraveled.
His body twirled down the silk like a sideways top until the fabric caught around his ankles.
Then he dangled with his arms spread wide, hair almost brushing the floor, fearless.
With an upward curl and a reaching grab, he was upright again and climbing. I could have watched him forever, just as spellbound as the first time I saw him. But Maslow’s voice cut through my trance.
“Beckett!” he called from the second-floor railing.
The shout brought an early end to Zephyr’s routine. He descended in a spiral of silk and landed lightly on the stage floor. His smile was blinding in the spotlight, and he looked so healthy it made my heart pound.
Two days without him had been too long.
“Come on up!” Maslow beckoned, sounding giddy.
Reluctantly, I turned and headed toward the stairs to answer the wraith’s summons. I felt Zephyr’s eyes on me and sensed his anticipation adding to my own as I climbed.
Colette followed at my heels, crisp and composed. She wore a charcoal skirt suit that fit her like tailored armor and a pair of spiked heels that clicked against the stairs. Her sleek ponytail swung like a pendulum with every step. Her face was neutral, but her eyes glittered with mischief.
Maslow didn’t question her presence. Maybe he considered it payback for his visit to my office with his own muscle in tow. Whatever the case, we crossed the threshold into his office unchallenged.
Colette and I made our way to the pair of leather guest chairs positioned opposite the desk. She crossed her legs and sat while I remained standing, watching as Maslow made a show of uncorking a chilled bottle of champagne and pouring it into two long-stemmed flutes.
He offered one to me. I set the folder of documents down on the desk, tempted to refuse the drink. It felt gratuitous to take anything more from him considering how much he was about to lose. Not that he knew it yet.
When I accepted it, he beamed brightly.
“A toast to our success!” The wraith pitched forward, belly dragging the desktop as he clinked his glass against mine.
I gave him a tight smile and tipped the flute just enough to wet my lips. Maslow drained his like it was water, then collapsed into his chair.
I set my glass aside and nudged the folder across the glossy surface of the desk.
“I believe you’ll find everything in order,” I said smoothly. “The anonymous bidder withdrew their offer, after which the seller was more than happy to agree to a quick closing.”
Maslow gave a low, satisfied hum. “Record time, I’d say.”
“Yes, well, no need to drag our heels about these things. That’s why you paid me.”
He nodded, smug. “Speaking of payment, I assume you’d like to collect. Shall I call him up here for you?” Pushing out of his chair, he made for the door. “I’ve kept him nice,” he added over his shoulder. “Ready to be sent off the lot with a full tank.”
He laughed at the joke and paused with one hand on the doorknob. When he looked back, his grin was all teeth. “Unless you’d prefer him empty and crawling to you. I’m happy to oblige.” His eyes gleamed with that predator’s shine, and fury flared hot in my chest. But I kept it banked, cool.
“Zephyr, yes. I’ll be taking him immediately.” I let the next words fall like lead. “And the rest of them too.”
Maslow released the knob and turned slowly, squinting. “The rest of whom?”
“The dancers. All of them.” My tone left no room for misunderstanding. “Consider their debts to you paid and their contracts null and void. Or should I say renegotiated?”
Maslow barked a sharp laugh. “You can’t do that. The deal was for one dancer.” He held up a thick finger. “The redheaded whore. And frankly, you’re doing me a favor taking him off my hands. Little shit’s done nothing but raise Cain in this place.”
For a moment, all I could see was Zephyr, curled up in my bed with tears tracking down his cheeks as he whispered, “I don’t want to be a whore.”
I’d called him that. I’d thought so little of him when all this began. Made him smaller than he was ever meant to be. But I’d meant it when I told him he wasn’t. He never had been. Now, he never would be.
“There was no cap on the compensation,” I reminded the wraith. “Only that it would be at my discretion. In return for your property on Fairmont, I’m taking these four walls and everything in them. Except for you.”
Maslow’s face twisted, caught between fury and disbelief.
I didn’t care. Let him rage.
He could call Zephyr whatever names he wanted.
He’d never touch him again.
The wraith’s features went slack before he began to sputter. “You can’t…” His cheeks splotched angry red. “That’s outlandish. Extortion!”
Retrieving the folder from the desktop, I flipped to the signed contract, then held it out in the space between us. “It’s all here and signed for. Compensation to be determined upon successful closing.”
Maslow’s eyes bulged as they scanned the line of text. He blinked, taking it in, then fixed me with a frigid glare. “This isn’t what you said.”
“I said I wanted entertainment.” I gestured to the glass wall behind him and the stage beyond that. “This is the entertainment industry, is it not?”
Maslow knocked the folder away, littering the floor with papers. His finger stabbed into my chest, swaying me back as his voice rose to a shout. “We settled for a favor!”
Fabric rustled and leather creaked as Colette rose to her feet.
“We settled on my terms,” I replied coolly. “You assumed my price; I didn’t correct you.”
Maslow’s mouth opened again, probably to yell more nonsense, but this time he hesitated. Colette’s heels struck the floor as she took her position at my side. Her hand rested inside her suit coat on the revolver tucked out of sight.
I smiled, slow and vicious.
Maslow’s face twisted with rage, and his hand curled into a fist. “You cheating son of a bitch!”
He lunged, but despite there being only inches between us, the blow he’d readied never landed.
Colette intercepted him, surging into the narrow space while her hand snapped out from her jacket.
The gun stayed holstered as she caught Maslow by the wrist, twisted hard, and spun him to the side.
He stumbled into the glass wall and struck it with a muffled grunt, his arm pinned behind his back and one knee buckling under the pressure the hellhound applied by digging her stiletto heel into his calf.
“Easy now,” she crooned near his ear. “I’d hate to see you embarrass yourself in front of your staff.”
Sure enough, from the ground floor, all six dancers stared up at us. If Darby and the cowpoke twins had thought me shimmying up their sheet ladder was amusing, they must have been rolling over this.
Maslow snarled, struggling, but it was like watching a rat try to wrestle a wolf. Colette kept him immobilized with ease, her expression flat and amused.
“But, Coll,” I said mildly. “Don’t you mean my staff?”
She smiled, crinkling her eyes as they flicked to the floor below. “Mais oui, mon ami.”
Stepping over the mess of scattered paperwork, I made my way to the door.
“Maz, you have one final job as the former owner of this club,” I told the wraith without looking back.
“You’re going downstairs to tell those young men their contracts are dissolved.
Their debts are forgiven and as of now, I’m in charge. ”
“Absolutely not,” Maslow spat.
I turned to him, calm as ever. “Then I’ll do it for you.”
He surged forward again, trying to break free, but Colette yanked his arm higher. He hissed through his teeth, face contorting in pain.
“Walk,” she said coolly. “Or be dragged.”
I opened the office door and stepped out onto the landing that overlooked the club floor. Below, the stage lights cycled, and the music throbbed low and steady. The dancers stood in a loose cluster near the stage. Six pairs of wide eyes trained upward.
Colette shoved Maslow forward, releasing him just enough to send him stumbling out behind me. He staggered, red-faced, fumbling to straighten his jacket like he had any pride left to salvage.
I descended the steps one at a time, raising my voice above the music as I called across the club.
“Attention, gentlemen,” I called. “I have an announcement.”
I reached the ground level and walked toward the stage, stopping just short of the spotlight’s reach. The dancers watched me in silence. Some were wary, some curious, all waiting.
“Effective immediately, your contracts are void. Your debts are gone. You don’t owe Maslow—or anyone else—anything.”
A murmur rippled through the small crowd as the demons exchanged looks.
Zephyr’s gaze never left me.
“This place doesn’t own you anymore because this place is finished,” I continued, then concluded with a bit of dramatic flair. “The Devil’s Dollhouse is closed.”