Chapter 17 #2
“Rumors, no.” She pauses, eyeing the table like she’s weighing whether to tell me anything.
Then she leans closer, voice low, “But you know I’ve always been more comfortable after dark.
Either here or whatever job I’m working.
My preferred bedtime is dawn.” True. Rikki would gather me up after her night out, and we’d shuffle home just as the sun was rising over the water.
“There’s something moving out there. Not on the streets, not in the daylight, but lurking just around the edges. ”
“What do you mean, ‘moving?’”
“I’ve seen boats on the water, no lights, just quietly riding the current downstream. Sometimes there’ll be a truck tucked into a back alley that looks out of place. People in the shadows.”
I digest that, letting it sink in. “Could just be the Scratch dealers. There was an incident in the North Side warehouse district.”
“Could be.” She lifts her chin, motioning for the kid waiting to play to step up to the table. He grabs a cue and rubs chalk on the tip. “But it feels different. Organized, maybe.”
I understand what she means. North Side is anything but organized right now. "Thanks, Mom. That helps."
She gives a quick smirk. "Don’t get used to it. I’m not running intel for the Baron King’s army."
“Wouldn’t think of it.”
I watch her line up her shot, the way her muscles tighten, the focus in her eyes. She’s alive, present, moving through the world like it owes her nothing. I should feel something–grateful, sad, angry–but mostly I just feel… detached. Like I’m observing from outside myself.
“You be careful out there, okay?” I tell her. She’s not the kidnapper’s target. Too old. Not the right kind of blood. No ties to Royalty… well, maybe, but none other than me. Fuck, that’s weird. “And if you see anything else, give me a call.”
“Sure, baby.” She strikes with her cue, scattering the balls in one hard smack. Three sink into the pocket, and the expression of the poor kid playing against her registers that he just got taken.
Rikki flashes a grin, but under that armor, I see the truth behind the bravado. She’s self-reliant and never waits for anyone to save her, but she’s also alone. There’s no question in my mind where I got it from.
In a town obsessed with bloodlines and legacy, there’s no question about mine.
The King sits behind his desk, hands folded, expression unreadable as he says, “Update.”
We’d been called into the office just after midnight. I’d just parked the Charger next to Hunter’s truck when I saw Graves at the front door, waiting to inform me of the King’s summons.
The truck's engine ticked away, letting me know that they’d recently returned home. Did the session with Perilini last that long?
I don’t get a chance to ask Hunter that question. He was already in the library when I came in. I’d assumed that maybe the King was angry we’d separated, that I’d left her during the hypnosis, but if he is, he’s not planning on dealing with it tonight.
Hunter steps in without hesitation. “The hypnosis helped. Arianette remembers the day clearly, at least up until a certain point. She recalls a stranger telling her that her uncle wanted her to go to his office on campus. He led her down one of the walkways, but the memory cuts off there.” He slides his hands in his pockets.
“I speculate that at that point something was pulled over her head or she was drugged.”
“If not both,” the King agrees with a grimace. “Any description?”
“Not of the person, although she said she felt cold and there was a scent, something sweet, right before things went dark.” Hunter’s eyes dart to mine, then back to the King. “She did say she felt the presence of someone else.”
The chair creaks as he leans back. “Did Perilini have anything to say?”
“He believes that now that memories have surfaced, it’s likely more will come.”
The King’s expression shifts, and he asks Hunter directly, “And after? Any problems?”
After? Something passes between them. Quick. Controlled. A flicker of understanding that doesn’t include me.
“No,” Hunter says evenly. “If anything, I think it took the edge off. For both of us.”
I look between them, trying to catch what I missed.
The King turns his attention to me, his eyes locking on the new tattoo for a brief moment. “Anything you’d like to share?”
I straighten. Even though I didn’t plan on informing him that I’d been to East End, the information rolls off my tongue. “I went to the Stacks and talked to a few people I know from the neighborhood. I may have picked up some possible intel.”
The King’s eyebrow lifts. “Go on.”
“I’m not sure if it is anything, but apparently, there’s been some unusual movement. My source has seen boats on the river at night, running without lights.”
“Interesting,” the King says, standing and moving toward the map. He studies the river, fingers tracing its edge. “The river’s been left unmonitored since the North Side fell apart.” He pauses. “Could be something there.”
“We could set up surveillance,” Hunter suggests. “Rotate shifts down on the water at night.”
“I can get us into the Stacks with no problem.”
“You’ll need to clear it with the Princes,” the King says, eyeing his maps. “I know it’s your home, and they won’t hassle you for going down there, but we don’t need extra trouble.”
Seems to me like it’s more trouble going through PNZ, but what the fuck do I know?
“If that’s all, shut the door on the way out.”
It’s an abrupt dismissal, and Hunter exits quickly.
“You let my son give you a tattoo,” he states before I leave.
I resist the urge to touch the spot over my eyebrow. “I did.”
He gestures for me to move closer and I step forward.
“Let me see.”
I peel off the plastic cover and tilt my head. His eyebrow shoots up. “He gave you that? Willingly?”
“His idea actually.” I fight a grin. “Thought it would piss you off.”
“Of course.” He taps his fingers on the desktop. “Did he touch my wife?”
“No.”
“Very well.” He waves me off and I exit the library, shutting the door behind me. Hunter waits in the hall, a question on his lips, but I go first. “What was that about earlier? About you both being on the edge?”
He exhales, then says it like it’s nothing. “I took her to Noir Sanctum.”
“The sex club?” The words are out before I can stop them. I’ve never been, but I know the reputation. My mind fills in a million scenarios, and every single one stars the Baroness naked.
“She had a lot of energy after the hypnosis and wanted a distraction,” he says.
“And you just randomly thought, 'Hey, a sex club sounds fun?’”
He lifts his eyebrow and fuck. It does sound fun.
My interest piqued, despite myself, I ask, “Did you fuck her?”
“Almost,” he admits. “It was headed there, but the King–”
“The King what?”
“He was there.” Which, of course, everyone knows Maddox owns the hotel and club, which means the King owns it, and that explains a lot about the man we serve. “He was controlling the whole thing.”
“Controlling how?” I probe.
“Giving us directions, encouraging me to push both of our boundaries, it was… fuck, it was incredible, but he stopped me before I fucked her outright.” He swallows, then adds, “He stopped me from going too far and doing any real harm.”
“Jesus.” Jealousy licks up my spine. “Did she like it?”
“You’ve seen her,” he says. “Are you surprised she likes a little pain with her pleasure?”
We both know that’s not a surprise. Not really. There’s something coiled under her skin–desire hidden under na?vety, an innate perception buried beneath the muddled whispers in her mind. Arianette has proven she’s the kind of person who doesn’t break easily, but bends on purpose.
But Noir Sanctum? The image sticks like a splinter.
Arianette on her knees or bent over something plush and dark, masked, mouth bare and begging.
Hunter finally letting that thing inside him off the leash–pinching, twisting, slapping, choking–feeding her pain until she bloomed under it.
Her body marked red from his hands, tears streaking under lace while she came apart again and again.
And the King cloaked like always, but still pulling strings, deciding exactly how far the hurt could go before it crossed into damage.
While I was off chasing ghosts in East End, digging through my own wreckage, they were forging something raw and immediate–her surrendering to his darkness, him finally tasting what he’s always starved for, both of them guided by a voice neither of them can say no to.
I’m still chewing on that when we reach the sitting room. Slade sits on the couch just outside the door, scrolling on his phone and stroking Ares' fur. The dog perks up when he sees us–or really, sees Hunter.
“She’s in the bathroom,” Slade says, sliding the phone into his pocket.
The Baroness still isn’t allowed the freedom to move about on her own–not even in the house.
“Thanks for keeping an eye on her,” I say, fishing out the car keys in my pocket. “And thanks for letting me use the car.”
“No problem.” He stands and stretches, a loud yawn coming from his throat. “See you guys later.”
I follow Hunter into the bedroom while Ares follows close on our heels.
I’ve noticed how alert he is, how close he follows Hunter’s every movement.
He likes me well enough, same with the other guys in the house, but it’s clear Hunter is his person.
The dog follows the command to go to his bed, where he sniffs the padding and circles around a few times before settling.
I wish I could chill like that. Sniff out a safe, familiar place, turn myself around, and let my instincts kick in.
Going home just made me feel more untethered.
I unlace my boots and pull them off, then peel out of my jeans and shirt, leaving them in a heap on the floor.
Fuck, I just need to sleep and shake off this mood.
I slide into my bed, the sheets cool against my skin, and wait.