Chapter 19
19
I nara
Out on the streets, I dial Mina as soon as I’m a block away from the Roy building. “He knows your full name,” I tell her voicemail. “I told him to back off. He won’t follow you anymore if you do the same.” I hang up without explaining how I got access to Rex freakin’ Roy.
The real question is how he got so much access to me. How long has he been watching me?
Mina texts back a set of exclamation points but no questions.
I don’t bother going back to work. Assuming Burgess has reported my movements, I imagine I’ll be getting a call from the Chief of Police demanding an accounting of my actions. Suspending me for harassing the department’s biggest donor.
Justice can be bought, so I’ll have to build a solid case if I’m going to take down Rex, and so far, I have nothing.
I head to Grand Central Station to check for the file, but there’s still nothing in the locker.
“Did you send the fax?” The lead on the case we once worked on is old school and required everything to be faxed. Mina hated it. She’ll know I’m referring to the files she promised to send.
My text goes undelivered. The only response I get is that the number is no longer in service.
Mina’s gone.
All for the best. I can’t get too close to anyone.
First because of who I am.
Now because of the man obsessed with me.
I spend the rest of the day at my townhouse, doing a physical sweep for bugs or cameras. I don’t find any, but I don’t have the proper equipment to detect what might be hiding in the wiring. I have more luck getting information after making a few calls.
Turns out, the owner of the townhouse is Roy Conglomerate, the real estate arm of Roy Enterprises. He didn’t even bother to hide the purchase behind a shell corporation. I was told about this place through police channels, but I already know Rex is besties with the Chief, so he could have easily told the brass about the available housing and made sure the offer landed in my inbox.
The townhouse neighbor is listed as S. Rex. I don’t need three guesses to figure out what the S is probably short for.
My phone rumbles on the kitchen counter. I pick it up, cursing when I see Rex has somehow changed his name back to Sir.
Sir: What are your plans for dinner?
Me: You hacked my phone
Sir: Allegedly. Dinner?
Oh, fuck him.
Me: Bodega kebob
Me: @3 am
Sir: Not amusing.
Me: I think it is
Me: I’m a grown woman
Me: I can feed myself
Between the room at Hotel Magnifique, the clothes and winter coat, and lunch today, he certainly likes his gifts. He says he’ll take care of me, and he has.
And deep down, I love it. More than a little bit.
It’s been a long time since anyone has taken care of me this way. After my family was murdered, I ended up with extended family, then a group home. At age twelve, I ran away and lived outside for weeks.
Sir: I know.
Sir: You shouldn’t have to.
My throat is tight. Does he know about the time I spent surviving on my own? Sleeping under a bank of azalea bushes in a park, climbing into dumpsters and picking through rotting food to find something I could eat?
I look around the kitchen. Is he watching me now?
Sir: Did you like the Italian?
The delivery from Paisanos, the one I thought might have been for my neighbor, was him making sure I ate.
Me: I think I accidentally ate Sir Rex’s instead.
I should be angry at how he’s so thoroughly surveilled me. Right now, I just feel protected. Like someone’s taking care of me.
It’s a heady feeling. Dangerous.
Sir: All will be forgiven if you have dinner with me
“No, it won’t,” I whisper. My voice is clogged with unshed tears. I’m on the verge of breaking down in a rental, and Rex is probably watching me on a screen somewhere.
I step outside and stand on the stoop, near where Rex had dropped one of his victims, and watch the birds swoop down to the feeder. My phone rings, startling me. The birds burst up in an explosion of startled caws and beating wings, flying through the dusky air.
The call is from an unknown number. Probably Rex on a burner phone, but I answer cautiously. “Hello?”
“Ms. Ramos?” The voice is masculine and deep but not as rich and gorgeous as Rex’s.
“Who’s calling?”
“Apologies. I’m calling on behalf of Club Empire. You left a message at the front desk asking to speak with the owner.”
“Yes. That’s correct.” I never expected another call after Rex told me he was one of the owners. Does he know about this? “I’m Inara Ramos.”
“Excellent.” He’s not Rex, but the praise raises goosebumps on my arms. “I’m one of the owners, Sebastian St. James.”
“Do I know you?”
“Not officially. I was in attendance at the NRPD ball but didn’t get the pleasure of making your acquaintance.”
I squint into the gloom, trying to remember if I saw him. I pull the phone from my ear and do a search for “New Rome Sebastian St. James.” I study the picture of a lean man with light skin and hair but can’t place him. He has the sort of face that would blend in with the gala crowd.
I put the phone back to my ear.
“I’d like to rectify that,” he’s saying. “I reviewed your file, Swallow. I understand you prefer to scene with a different partner each time.”
“Pardon?” I say to buy time because I’m thrown by the turn of conversation. My file at the club contains sensitive information, from up-to-date blood test results to details about the IUD I use for birth control.
“I hope it’s not overstepping to offer myself as a potential partner. I think we’d be compatible. I must admit, Ms. Ramos, you’ve intrigued me. ”
“Um, thank you?” My tone is questioning and steeped in suspicion.
He laughs. “I know this is unorthodox, but I never subscribe to the ordinary. I wouldn’t co-own a sex club if I did. I’m hoping to meet you and go from there.”
I keep quiet. The only reason I was digging into Club Empire was to get more intel on Rex. St. James is his business partner. He’ll be able to give me more information.
Unless he’s as cagey as Rex.
“I am willing to meet,” I say finally. “On the condition that you answer a few questions.”
“When it comes to our platinum members, I’m an open book.”
I very much doubt it. But a million-dollar membership fee has to be good for something, and if St. James wants to roll out the red carpet, I’ll let him.
“I’ve made my own file available to you and can give you references if you wish to vet me. I assure you, I leave my partners well satisfied.”
And now we’ve jumped straight into innuendo. Does Rex know his business partner is calling me? That he’s interested in me?
Probably not. And when he finds out, he won’t be happy.
Excellent.
It’ll be nice to catch him off guard for once, so meeting St. James will be worth it for that reason alone.
“I’ll come tonight. But I can’t promise anything.”
“I understand perfectly. I look forward to our meeting, Swallow.”
I head back to the hotel. I should check out of Hotel Magnifique, but I keep going back. I’m enjoying living in luxury more than I should, and more than that, it’s starting to feel safe.
I sift through the gorgeous clothes in the closet, studying each designer dress or pair of jeans as if it’ll tell me something about Rex Roy. Dom. Killer.
I learn nothing but take great delight in picking out an outfit for tonight’s rendezvous with the mysterious St. James. My brief research on him turned up a profile of another big city businessman who made his first billions in founding a hedge fund at the tender age of eighteen. He’s now twenty-seven, one year older than me, one year younger than Rex, and has his fingers in all sorts of financial pies, from tech firms to pharmaceuticals.
He’s a lot like Rex, except he didn’t inherit his wealth. Everything he has, he earned himself. Although, how an eighteen-year-old convinced investors to buy into his hedge fund is beyond me. It tells me St. James is smarter than average or at least cunning.
I need to be careful.
A knock on my door makes me jump. “Coming,” I call, wondering if it’s Rex. I feel guilty, like I’m cheating on him with another dom.
Which is exactly why I need to meet with St. James. I don’t owe Rex anything.
But it’s only a hotel employee, looking sharp in a black suit with a lion’s crest on his name tag. “Delivery from Sir Rex.” He waves away any tip and leaves me with my gift.
A stack of sketchbooks and a bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils tied with a yellow bow.
* * *
Rex
The text comes at six p.m.
Little bird : Thank you
She follows it with a picture of the sketchbooks I sent her piled on the bed. One of them is open, showing a drawing of the lions outside of Hotel Magnifique.
You’re very welcome
I text back.
Have dinner with me.
Can’t. I have plans.
She’s going to work all night, gathering evidence against me. Not that she’ll find any, but she’ll miss meals on her crusade. And I can’t have that.
You need to eat.
She texts a picture of a middle finger.
I smile. She’s decided to be a brat.
I send a response.
Rule number one for naughty submissives: don’t write checks your ass can’t cover.
I wait for her snarky reply. It occurs to me that the highlight of my day is texting with her. I prefer this over anything on my schedule. Of course I’d rather be with her, but if she won’t allow it, then bantering with her is the next best thing.
I wonder how far she’s gotten into her search. Ivan’s monitored her going in and out of Grand Central Station twice now. She keeps checking the same locker. Probably waiting for a dossier from her friend. The one I’ve scared off.
It’ll be easy enough to intercept any package and make sure it’s redacted enough to only allow the information I want her to have. The hacker KittyBang got deeper into my shields than I would have liked. If she wasn’t Inara’s friend, she’d already be dead. But I made a promise.
“Alfie,” I say aloud to trigger my AI assistant. “Pull up Target Swallow’s data history. I want to see any searches she’s made in the past twenty-four hours.”
Alfie chirps in acknowledgment, and in a few seconds, I’m staring at a list of websites she looked at, as well as the prompts she entered.
They’re all pertaining to me, until a few hours ago. Then they all deal with a hedge fund I know well.
I know it because I was one of its first investors.
Is she trying to find the sources of my income? If so, it’ll take her years. I should be kind and have Alfie create a dossier she can peruse at her convenience, leaving more time for me.
It’s sensitive information, data that my enemies would love to get their hands on, so I’ll have to insist on security measures, like her being tied up in my private dungeon, before I allow her access.
The thought makes me smile.
Then I see what prompted her to seek out this information and choke on pure rage.
Her search terms read: “New Rome Sebastian St. James.”
Why is she researching my sometimes business partner and oftentimes rival?
“Alfie, cross reference Inara Ramos with Sebastian St. James. What are his movements in relation to hers?”
A friendly, high-pitched voice says, “Calculating. Attendance, New Rome PD ball. Sebastian St. James arrival, twenty minutes after you, two hours before Inara Ramos.”
“What else?”
“Sebastian St. James, co-owner of Club Empire. Inara Ramos, platinum member since September?—”
“Anything today?” I interrupt it.
“Inara Ramos, incoming phone call. Sebastian St James.”
He’s called her. The bastard. “Run transcription.”
“Running.” Alfie chirps twice. “Transcription not available.”
I have Inara’s phone tapped. Every call she gets is recorded. That’s how I tracked her friend Mina. I know everyone she calls or texts and the contents of each conversation.
Except for this one.
Which means he blocked my trace.
St. James is no one to mess with, and my little bird has caught his eye. He’s trying to reel her in, and that will not stand.
“Where is Target Swallow now?”
“Inara Ramos, booked a rideshare. Destination, Club Empire.”
“Keep monitoring. I’m going out.”
No one fucks with my little bird. No one but me.
* * *
MY Swallow,
I know you’ve been unfaithful. I watched you go to the club to talk to HIM. What can HE give you that I can’t? We share a bond. It’s special. If you don’t stay away from him, there will be consequences.
I’ve tried to keep the ugliness from our perfect connection, but you leave me no choice. I won’t let anyone have you. I’ll DESTROY anyone who thinks they can get close to you. Even if it hurts, I’ll keep you pure. If that means killing everyone close to you, I will.
And if I have to, I’ll break your wings.
BK