15
Notes:
Sorry this chapter is late. Accidentally wandered through some dense fog in my bare feet, ended up on a distant planet full of barbarians.
Milo
“Wow. I’ve heard of this place, but I’ve never been here. It’s intense.” Rowan scans the main room of Shadow, the club Jalen sent us to.
“Nobody will get in there who doesn’t have an invite,” he’d assured me. “The security is tight, and the owner doesn’t fuck around.”
Good. I’m not fucking around either. “Intense, but secure. And we won’t be stuck here long. Whoever’s behind this shit is already dead. Just need to find them.”
Shadow is all low, warm lighting and polished wood. Lots of, well, shadows. Sofas and overstuffed chairs for lounging. Stages and spanking benches and giant cages for group sessions and people looking to put on a show. It’s not the first place of its kind I’ve been to, but it is unique.
Moans and groans reach us from out in the main room, and even the occasional burst of polite applause.
Rowan flinches a little at every sound, nearly losing his footing when a bartender drops a glass.
Though I guess I can’t blame him. It’s been an eventful couple of days, and I’ve clocked the abundance of barely visible cameras overhead.
Nothing like knowing you’re being watched.
“We’re looking for someone named Daniel,” I tell Rowan. That makes him clutch Iggy’s tank harder. I suggested we leave the little guy in the car until we figured out exactly where we would stay, but he refused.
My hand goes to his lower back. Steadying him.
Guiding him through the maze of dark stairwells and people.
And yes, fine. Comforting. Didn’t take a genius to figure out that Iggy is Rowan’s emotional support animal.
He’s been clinging to the lizard with blanched knuckles since what happened after brunch.
While Rowan is busy gawking at a man getting whipped on one stage, a big dude steps up in front of us. I’m tall and Rowan is taller, but this guy’s got us both beat. The earpiece tells me he’s security.
“Rowan? Milo?”
Rowan’s head whips around. “Woah. He looks like that werewolf from that one show,” he murmurs.
“He does,” I agree.
I’m a confident motherfucker, but in a contest between me and this guy, I’m not sure who could take the other down faster.
“He can hear you,” the big guy grumbles. Then he gestures with his hand. “Come on. I’ll take you to Mr. Corvus and then get you settled.”
We’re led up a quiet set of back steps to what appears to be some sort of VIP area. There’s a bar and a small lounge area, where a man with the bearing of a king and the shrewd gaze of a killer gives us an unsettling smile. “You must be Milo.” He turns. “And you must be Rowan. I’m Daniel.”
Experience keeps my body language from betraying my unease. Barely. This place is a very well decorated viper den.
Jalen better be right about the club being safe.
I believe him about the security, but the man in front of me makes his security guard look like an adorable puppy, and I’m willing to bet there’s more firepower in this building than I’ve seen in my lifetime.
If Daniel Corvus turns out not to be on our side, we’re fucked.
“Uh, hi.” Rowan’s smile is hesitant.
I edge closer until I’m standing almost in front of him. Not that I want to be rude to our potentially dangerous host, but my unease demands I keep Rowan shielded as much as possible.
“Thank you for letting us stay here.” I glance around, noting that there’s a guard at every room exit. “I promise it won’t be long.”
“Understood. Jalen said as much. He also assured me there wouldn’t be any trouble.” Daniel Corvus gives me a significant look. “I’ve recently beefed-up security, so there shouldn’t be any issues.”
I’m reading this as “if you don’t start any trouble, there won’t be any trouble.” Let’s hope. “Understood. Thank you.”
“Good. Channing will show you to your room.”
He gestures to the guy who brought us in, who leads us down yet another darkened hall. This place is massive, a converted mansion apparently, with plenty of twists and turns. I’m careful to memorize each step since everything is dark.
“Down this hallway is where some of the staff live,” the big guy—Channing—says. “Make sure you keep it quiet after hours. Mr. Corvus invites you to make use of the club amenities during your stay so long as you don’t disturb any of the other guests.”
Wonder how many ways these guys are going to come up with to threaten us while we’re here?
Clearly, the sooner we get things resolved and get out of here, the better.
Luckily, one of Brennan’s hackers is working on the issue.
The guy seemed confident all the money was coming from one place, and that he was closing in on the identity of the person who ordered the hit.
Once I remove the original customer, the contracts will become null and void.
Then Rowan won’t need me. Which is exactly what we both want.
Studying him out of the corner of my eye, the slump of his large shoulders and the tense grip on Iggy’s tank, I can’t help but wonder if he’ll be okay.
I’d feel better if he was the savvy and experienced sex worker I believed him to be when I first found him.
What happens when the next predator masquerading as a sugar daddy tries to hide him in their beach house?
Hopefully Rowan chooses better next time. If there’s some part of me that entertains the idea of him choosing me, I shut that down quickly. We live very different lives. Even if we didn’t, everyone knows you don’t end up with the rebound.
I thank Channing as he leaves us and then turn to Rowan. “Want to check out the club a little? I’ve never been in one of these places long enough to really look around.”
Perhaps if we spend our remaining time together focused only on the physical, it will be easier when say goodbye. It sounds like bullshit as soon as I think it. But I need it to be true.
Rowan’s smile looks a little strained. Anyone would struggle, to be fair. Even me. Hopefully wandering around a sex club a little will take his mind off things. I’m not exactly an expert on making people feel better, unless it’s by eliminating their enemies.
We deposit our things in a small but comfortable looking room. The bed looks like a double, but we’ll manage. I think maybe I don’t even mind if we have to be close together this time.
We leave the room to look around, coming to a stop on the second floor where there’s a room that has a two-way mirror, so viewers can see inside without bothering the people in it.
Right now there’s a young man kneeling on the floor in the center with a collar around his neck.
A few others are touching him, wearing masquerade masks for anonymity, or at least the suggestion of it.
Looks as if things are just getting started.
People can watch from the handful of chairs arranged outside.
There’s a man sitting in one and nursing a drink, as if he’s simply relaxing with a movie at home.
Rowan’s eyes are wide, his lips parted. His breathing gets shallow as he watches the young man submit to the touching, the way his eyes drop closed and his head falls back, clearly enjoying all the attention.
I hook one finger in the waistband of his pants, pulling him back into a shadowy alcove. “You like this?”
He gulps audibly. “I’m hard, aren’t I? Don’t exactly walk around like this all the time.”
“That’s not quite an answer. Tell me more.”
“Fine. I guess…I’m not sure,” he says. “It’s hot.
And how the guy in the middle looks so into it?
I like that too. I’m not sure how I’d feel about being shared, but I guess it’s cool that he’s enjoying himself.
I always thought if I were with someone I’d want to be special.
Like, someone doesn’t want to share me because I matter to them so much. ”
“Not everyone likes being shared. If you’re not into it, then you’re not.” If—if—Rowan were mine, I wouldn’t want to share. I keep that to myself.
He lets out a gusty sigh. “Then again…my ex said that. That he couldn’t bear to share me. And all he did in the end was hide me away a pretty beach house on Ana Maria Island. Didn’t like that either.”
Fucker. I absolutely need to find out who this guy is and pay him a visit. Perhaps when this…job is finished.
“What about watching? Having people stand around and observe while you get used. Like we’re doing now.” If I’m honest, my breathing is getting a little choppy.
Rowan’s chest rises and falls in erratic, shallow bursts. “Yeah, I think I’d be okay with that.” He swallows. “I mean, yes. I’d like it. Being watched. I’d like…” He shakes his head. “I’d have to find someone I felt comfortable doing that stuff with though.”
Me. He feels comfortable with me.
Slipping behind Rowan, I hook one arm around his waist, sliding the fingers of my other hand over his abs. “Listen, I know this thing between us has an expiration date…”
He makes a noise of displeasure. I’m reminding myself as much as him here.
“But,” I add, “as your protector and temporary fake boyfriend, I feel it’s important that I track down this waste of space ex of yours and kill him. Don’t worry, I’ll do it slowly.”
From the little Rowan has told me about this guy, he’s a manipulative pile of garbage who hid a teenager away like a kept pet so he could swan into town and fuck him when he wanted, and then ignored him the rest of the time.
The man took Rowan away from his family.
His entire life. Trapped him in a pretty cage.
You want to do the same thing, don’t you?
Yes. Fuck me, but I do. I want to protect Rowan. Control him. Lock him in a box and keep him forever. Which makes me no better than his ex. Maybe it makes me worse. His ex probably never made him complicit in multiple murders.