Chapter 15
ALEX
It’s a dream come true.
I just don’t want to say it out loud. It might disintegrate and disappear before my very eyes. There’s no telling what the future holds, but what we’ve found with Raina is like nothing else, and I have no intention of losing it.
“Are you with me, Alex?” Kaleb’s voice pierces through the veil.
“Yes, sorry.”
I’ve been with him in the bike shop for the better part of an hour, except my mind keeps wandering back to his sister, his wonderful, delicious, extraordinary sister.
Max, Vincent, and I have yet to discuss how we’re going to break the news to him, and Raina asked us to keep it between us for a while longer.
It’s a big secret, though. It’s starting to weigh on me, because Kaleb is a good man and deserves the truth.
“Where’s your head at?” Kaleb asks, half smiling as he wipes his hands on a rag and gets up from underneath the Orange County anniversary model.
By the looks of it, it’s complete and ready for a test drive as soon as tomorrow. The snows have melted in the meantime, and this last stretch of February in Portland seems eager to make room for spring. The roads are cold but dry enough for a ride, if I’m careful.
“Everywhere,” I chuckle dryly. “Haus of Sin is about to end its winter season, and we’ve got all these bikes coming out of Hillsdale. There’s a new purchase on the horizon, too, plus a couple more business ventures on the way.”
“Fair enough,” Kaleb says. “Oh, and you’re opening the new restaurant in Old Town, too, right?”
“The Black Swan,” I nod slowly. “Yes.”
Kaleb gives me a curious, almost wary look. “And you really want my sister to head your kitchen there?”
“I can’t think of anyone else,” I reply with a shrug. “I’m sure you can agree.”
“Absolutely. I mean, she deserves every good thing coming her way, if I’m honest. She’s been through a lot, and she needs a light at the end of the tunnel. I just wish I could do more.”
“You’re being one hell of a big brother, Kaleb. It’s more than enough,” I tell him. “She’s lucky to have you in her life. How’s she been, by the way?”
God, I hate lying to him.
He smiles with a twinkle of pride in his smoky eyes.
“She’s good. Yeah. We spoke on the phone just yesterday.
Another week or so, and she’s done with that winter resort.
She went on and on about the Valentine’s Dinner and the glowing reviews.
Hell, Alex, I could listen to her talking about food all day and never get bored, I swear. ”
“She’s passionate, I’ll give her that. And the dishes were extraordinary. I mean, that breakfast carpaccio was just so outside the box and brilliant and surprising at the same time.” I stop myself, my blood quickening as I notice Kaleb’s confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“How would you know about the breakfast carpaccio? Were you at the lodge? The… what’s it called again…”
Shit.
“The Sapphire Lodge, yes,” I reply. “No, I wasn’t there. A friend of mine took his wife in for the weekend, though. They were so delighted, they sent me photos of every dish, knowing we are considering Raina for the position at our new restaurant.”
Kaleb laughs lightly. “Look at you, already bragging about my sister. That’s really nice of you, Alex. I appreciate it.”
“Doesn’t cost me anything. Besides, it’s the truth. Raina is one hell of a chef. Those idiots at The Kane will rue the day they tossed her over Jeremy’s BS; I’ll tell you that much.”
“I heard he’s been looking for her.” He frowns, a muscle ticking furiously in his jaw.
I can feel my shoulders tightening, too, as I straighten my back and meet his gaze. The occasional clanking of another mechanic’s tool reminds me that the shop is still working, still busy, but anything related to Raina has my undivided attention.
“How’d you hear?” I ask him.
“The guys said he stopped by the shop,” Kaleb says and nods at one of the other mechanics, Joey, currently tangled in the entrails of another custom bike in need of a better electrical system. “I wasn’t on shift when he came around, but he hasn’t returned either. Maybe he flaked.”
“Jeremy came here looking for you?”
“Yeah. I was surprised when Joey told me, to be honest. Jeremy must’ve been suicidal or something.”
Or just testing the waters. Either way, he hasn’t been heard from since his visit to our office when Vincent shooed him away. The nerve on that piece of trash astonishes me to this day.
“Honestly, I’m just glad he’s out of Raina’s life,” Kaleb sighs. “He was bad for her, even when she couldn’t see it.”
“Hey, Boss,” Joey says with a slight frown as he walks over to us. “A courier dropped this off earlier. It’s addressed to you.”
He hands me a manila envelope with my name and the Hillsdale address on it.
It’s sealed, with the details printed on a white sticker.
No return address. My stomach churns. I don’t like getting any sort of mail from an unknown sender.
Maybe it’s just my military instinct. Back in those days, any package that came to our base had to be screened as a potential IED.
“Almost forgot about it,” Kaleb says. “I asked Joey to put it somewhere safe ‘til you got here.”
“It’s alright,” I tell him. “How’ve you been, Kaleb? Aside from work?”
“Oh, I’m great. Thank you for that seminar thing in Los Angeles. I can’t wait to go!”
I almost forgot what he was talking about. “Right, the custom chopper seminar. They’ve got Orange County and Harley reps coming in.”
“It’s going to be huge and a great opportunity for me to meet some real geniuses in the industry. So again, thanks for that. The tickets must’ve cost a pretty penny.”
“You’re worth it, brother,” I say as I rip open the envelope.
The contents of the envelope startles me as I take out one of many printed photographs. The photos are off a hidden camera, shots of Bancroft going into Haus of Sin, accompanied by Delia, the Doe. His hand is on her ass, and he’s smiling.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
“What is it?” Kaleb asks and moves closer.
Instinctively, I take a step back. “Nothing to worry about, trust me,” I lie again and look at another photo.
This one was taken from inside the estate, also showing Bancroft in an even more compromising position.
The other photos are even worse. But it only takes a glimpse of the shots at the bottom for me to realize I can’t delve deeper into this problem right here under Kaleb’s nose.
He’s already concerned and suspicious, waiting for me to say something.
“I’m sorry, brother, I need to go,” I tell him.
“Alex, come on, something’s wrong. Talk to me. I can help.”
“You can’t, I promise. It’s Haus of Sin business, nothing pertaining to the shop. We’re all good here, so I’m going to take my leave.”
“Are you sure?”
His empathetic nature is yet another thing I love about this guy.
I hug him and pat him on the shoulder, then give him a reassuring smile for good measure.
“I’m sure. We’re golden. I’ll see you early next week.
Just keep me apprised of each order’s progress, as usual.
I’ll have a few more to schedule in for March. ”
“Sure thing.”
I storm out of the bike shop with an ashen face—I see my reflection in my car window before I get behind the wheel and dig through the photos, fury burning in the back of my throat as I try to wrap my head around the maliciousness and audacity required to produce and then anonymously deliver each of these shots.
Whoever sent these is itching for war.
Though I’m not sure they understand who they’re itching to go to war with.
“What the hell?” Max’s angry reaction is understandable.
Vincent barely contains his rage bubbling under the surface as he stares at the photos, now spread across my desk in our joint office.
The door is locked, and our guests and hosts are busy in the playrooms until dinner, which gives us enough privacy—especially since Raina is in the kitchen with Matty, prepping for the next meal service.
“My thoughts exactly,” I say.
My gaze wanders across the images, each more sickening than the next.
Their content isn’t what turns my stomach inside out, but rather the shamelessness of the photographer.
These are all of private moments, intimate passions of our treasured guest, William Bancroft, among others.
It’s not just his privacy at risk here; it’s our entire business ethos and our reputation.
“If any of these get out, Haus of Sin is done,” Vincent says.
“Not to mention the lawsuit,” Max adds. “Imagine if Bancroft’s pasty ass shows up on the evening news.
Bancroft they’re working an angle,” I reply. “We can’t trace the images back to the photographer, but we can at least be vigilant about it.”
“I’ll double security on the premises and do another upgrade on the camera and motion sensor system,” Vincent agrees. “I’ll add a few more cameras anywhere else where there might be a potential entry point, just in case.”
“And I’ll reach out to our Portland PD friend and have him come over,” Max says. “Privacy or not, if someone is attempting to blackmail us, it’ll be better if the cops are at least apprised of the situation. I trust the guy. He’ll fly under the radar and at least try to get us a workable lead.”
I nod slowly, scratching my beard in frustration. Hell, every inch of me itches with anxiety. This wasn’t supposed to happen. We pride ourselves on exclusivity and discretion. Our guests pay lugubrious amounts of money for these services.
“I’ll have to talk to Bancroft about this, though. He couldn’t have been targeted without a reason,” I say. “None of the other clients shows up in any of these photos, just Bancroft.”
“And us,” Max bitterly replies, “with Raina.”
“It could be connected, or not. The photographer could’ve been watching Bancroft when he peeked through the lens in our office and figured he could cash in for a double,” I say, then look at our shots with Raina again, comparing them to Bancroft’s.
“These aren’t time-stamped, but if I remember correctly, this happened two nights before Valentine’s Day Dinner. ”
Max joins me in this study, revisiting Bancroft’s photos, as well. “Look at Delia’s outfit. It’s the brown leather kink suit. She only wears it for the Savage Playroom, remember?”
“Yes,” Vincent replies.
He walks to the desk and pulls up a handwritten registry where he keeps track of our hosts’ activities with each of our guests. Fun times are always recorded when they’re not scheduled in advance. Max and I watch Vincent with renewed interest as he flips to the page in question.
“Savage Playroom. Delia, Asher, and Bancroft. February 12th,” he confirms.
“So the photos were all taken on the same day, the same night,” I conclude, then pull up the CCTV archive on my laptop, “which means we might have a shot at finding something or someone within that twenty-four-hour window that doesn’t fit.”
“We might. I’m not so sure, though. Our cameras aren’t hidden, and if the guy knew what he was doing…” Max ponders, then lowers his gaze and scoffs. “It’s worth a shot, though; you’re right.”
“I’ll set up a private meeting with Bancroft for later,” I tell them.
My nerves are stretched thin. This morning, the universe was favoring us. I had hope for a brighter future. I was determined to build something with Raina and my brothers-in-arms. Now, I stare at these wretched photos and wonder how much damage they can inflict.
How easy will it all burn down, if we don’t get this fucker first?