Chapter 42 #2
“Ready to get fucked up?” he asks cheerfully, as he walks up dressed in black jeans, a gray T-shirt, and a backward hat.
Bronwyn smooths her dress, wasting no time as she walks up to him and extends her hand in his direction. Crew and I watch intently as he wraps his arm around my waist.
“This should be good,” he whispers, and I nod.
Damien pauses, taken aback by her strong approach and undeniable beauty, but smiles from ear to ear with false confidence.
“Nice lip ring,” Bronwyn comments.
Damien smirks and looks her up and down. “Thanks.”
“I’m Bronwyn,” she says, pushing her perfectly manicured hand farther. “When you earn my trust, you can call me Bron.”
He nods, casually.
“I’m Damien.” He takes her hand and kisses the back of it. “And you can call me your future husband whenever you want, honey.”
She studies him briefly, returning the exam from head to toe, before laughing wildly. She glances at Crew and says, “He does have a personality. Maybe that will make up for his lack of impressiveness.”
“Wait,” Damien says. “What the hell?”
My laughter bursts into the air along with Crew’s as we watch Damien sink into himself. He pulls his hand away from hers and shifts his expression in confusion.
“Are you all talking about my dick behind my back?” he snaps.
Bronwyn bats her eyes, “If that’s what you think is implied.”
He raises his hands in protest. “Look, my cock is absolutely fine. Don’t listen to a fucking word Bannermin says.”
She walks toward him, trailing her hand over his shoulder and jaw before passing by. “For your sake, I hope it’s more than fine, demon boy.”
She sways her hips as she walks, and his wild eyes follow her every move toward the street.
Her short dress shows off everything she's proud of, and she likes it that way. She’s a ‘what you see is what you get’ kind of girl.
Damien has no idea what he’s getting into, but I honestly don’t think he cares.
“Holy. Shit.” Damien glances at us. “I think I just fell in love.”
He turns, chasing after her down the alleyway, and Crew wraps his hand around mine. I take a step after them, but Crew stops me.
“This way,” he pulls.
“But this is the way into the bar?”
He shakes his head. “Not the way I go.”
Curiosity hits me, and I let him lead me down the dark alleyway around the building.
A single metal door comes into view, and Crew pushes it open forcefully.
A dim stairwell lies ahead, and my nerves tangle in my stomach with excitement.
We step inside, the door slamming shut behind us, and I hear the heavy beats of the bass from the bar.
“We’ll meet with Otto first,” he explains, his voice echoing in the stairwell. “He’s in his office. Then we will have a drink.”
“How do you know he’s in there?”
“Because, except for the night he was making out with you, he always is.”
My cheeks flush, and the regret of drunkenness washes over me once again. I keep my mouth shut and allow Crew to guide me forward into the darkness. The stairwell begins to light up—a single light on each landing—casting an eerie dimness over the space.
“Damien and Bronwyn will meet up with us afterward,” Crew says over his shoulder. “He knows where to meet me.”
“Your usual spot where you grind on all your women?” I respond.
“Should I be honest?” he asks, jokingly.
Jealousy runs through my veins like a torch as I squeeze his hand. He smiles and stops, feeling it too, and I nearly run into his back. Before I have time to react, he spins, pinning my arms against the wall at my sides.
“I like you this way.” Crew moves his lips inches from mine. “I’ve been wanting to make you jealous somehow.”
“Yeah? I don’t.”
“You don’t believe me?” Crew kisses me deeply. “Should I make it public you’re mine? Make everyone aware of how hard you make my cock?”
“You wouldn’t,” I rasp, as he releases my hands.
Crew lets out a deep laugh. “Oh, little angel, I said I don’t like sharing. I never said anything about bending you over the bar with people watching.”
My core throbs.
“There is nothing for you to be envious of. Ever.” His lips curl into a sly smile as he slides his hands lower, trailing up my dress. “You and the things I do between your delicious thighs are the only things I’ve craved in a long while.”
A heat spreads across my lower stomach, and my heart races.
“Understand?” His hand cups my pussy.
I suck in a sharp breath. “Yup.”
“Great. Back on track, then.”
Crew retakes my hand, guiding me up another flight of stairs. Each step brings us closer to the music, the dancing, the drinks, and a sea of people who grind together in perfect harmony.
We stop at the next landing, and he pushes against the metal door, guiding us down a long hallway. Similar lighting lines the walls, and it flickers in Crew’s wake as we step forward. The music thumps around us, and we pass a one-way mirror that looks directly into the pit of The Neon Sin.
The full dance floor is filled with people—angels, humans, and demons.
Through the flashing red lights, I can see the true forms of the hybrids merging with the crowd while the humans remain unaware of what lurks around them.
They grind together to the all-consuming bass of the slow house music, and I can’t help but stare.
I remember the night I stood over the railing, watching the sea of people. In all my years of coming to The Neon Sin, I’ve only gone down to the pit once, and I didn’t stay long, even though my body nearly begged me to.
We reach the end of the hallway where two doors stand before us—one leading to the bar and another that is ornate and painted in neon colors, clearly indicating that’s where we’re headed.
Crew lifts his hand and slams his fist into the wood.
With the music so loud, I don’t hear the footsteps on the other side as the door swings open, revealing Otto Hannes.
“Evening.”
“Got a minute?” Crew asks.
Otto moves, stepping aside to let us in. The office is dirty, poorly lit, and musty. I can’t say this is anything other than what I pictured. Heavy cigarette smoke fills the air, cluttering my lungs, and a single worn leather couch lines the wall.
We walk toward the desk in the center of the room, and Otto sits down, grabbing the cigarette. He moves the thick brown paper around in his fingers and smiles directly at me.
“Hey, Mara,” Otto says, ignoring Crew.
I study him, trying to recall his features. Shaved blonde hair, dark eyes like the night, and a sharp jawline. Tattoos cover nearly every inch of his visible skin below the jaw, and an eyebrow ring brings back all the memories I need. He’s handsome in a dive bar kind of way, but very human.
“Hey,” I respond. “Nice office.”
Crew grabs two rusty folding chairs and places them in front of the desk while Otto keeps his eyes fixed on us.
“I don’t get a hello?” Crew asks, sitting down and throwing his ankle over his knee. “I suppose it’s been a while since we’ve made out.”
I roll my gaze to Crew, and he winks. Otto takes a long drag from his cigarette and blows smoke into the air.
“You wish,” Otto says.
Crew laughs, “Come on, Hannes. You know I love fucking with you.”
Otto points the cigarette my way. “You two together?”
“Yes,” I say, without hesitation. “And we would like to continue with our night, if that’s alright with you.”
His expression changes, and I watch the wheels begin to turn in his mind. He shifts in his chair and places his elbows on the dirty desk before us.
“Mind if I join?” Otto’s sly words slip out of his mouth.
A darkness encircles Crew as he leans forward, letting the weight of his power fill the room like the smoke from Otto’s cigarette.
“Imply anything other than business with her, and I’ll rip your dick off.”
“That’s too bad.” Otto shrugs. “I think the three of us could have a lot of fun together.”
“I’d shut your mouth if I were you,” I say, feeling the anger building in Crew like a mountain. “He’s grumpy and doesn’t like sharing.”
Otto huffs. “Fine.”
Crew takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “You haven’t figured out why I’m here yet, so I’d tread lightly.”
Otto breathes heavily. “I don’t much care for our meetings anymore, since you only come when you need me or have horrible news.”
“Then you are going to be upset,” Crew responds.
Otto taps the lit end of his cigarette into the glass bowl and leans back in his chair.
I keep my gaze forward, irritated by how this has already played out.
Crew stands with both hands on the desk, towering over Otto, yet no fear shows in his eyes.
Owning the city's most notorious demon bar must take some guts, and the way he talks to Crew indicates exactly that.
“Lowell and Carver sent us here to kill you,” Crew states.
Otto shifts his gaze between us, flinching as though he is deciding whether to run.
“And?” Otto asks, putting on a calm facade.
Following Crew’s lead, I stand. “We aren’t going to.”
Otto rubs his temples and moves to a nearby wet bar, grabbing a canister of dark liquid and removing the glass lid with a pop. He pours a stout glass of whiskey and tips it back.
“Why?” Otto asks, immediately refilling his cup.
“Because we are giving you the chance to run,” Crew says. “You’ve helped me and been a friend for years.”
Otto huffs into the brim of his glass.
“You need to leave town, and I would suggest doing it now.”
Otto sighs, taking a sip. “You know I can’t do that.”
“Then they will kill you,” Crew admits. “Or force us to.”
I lean against the desk, allowing them to talk. My eyes scan the cluttered surface—papers, folders, receipts, and a cellphone are scattered on top—finding nothing out of the ordinary.
“Sam’s in town,” Otto says. “Did you know?”
Crew walks to the wet bar, pouring himself a drink. “Yeah. I’ve been in Hilna City with him.”
Otto nods. “Anything new come about?”
“The plans are continuing as they should for them,” Crew pauses. “But things have changed.”
Otto tilts his head. “Like?”
Crew exhales slowly, swirling the liquid in his cup. “We are going to continue with this plan exactly as outlined, but once it's finished, we will take out Sam. He’s drunk on power and acting no different than the other Elders who pollute the cities.”
He stays quiet, letting the words sink in like a cold bath.
“And Riggs?” Otto asks.
Crew takes a long drink. “He’s still on board assisting behind the scenes and has no clue that I’ve changed my plans. I want to keep it that way, too, Otto. The Neon Sin is not under investigation. Riggs is making sure of that.”
Otto nods.
“The Elders are onto you, Hannes,” Crew continues. “What have you been doing to get on their list?”
“I don’t fucking know, man.” He shrugs. “They have been wanting to take this place down for years. God forbid their hybrids have somewhere they enjoy more than the Orders.”
Crew narrows his gaze, not truly believing him, and downs his drink.
“Do you know who is next?” Otto asks.
Crew nods, setting the glass down. “Theo.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow, but we need to speak with him about something before that happens. If we have to delay his death, I will,” Crew responds.
I glance around the desk again, focusing on the receipts and the names—none of which I recognize. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his phone light up, and I freeze. A wave of dread washes over me when I notice the small lines dancing on the screen.
He’s recording us.
I cut my eyes back to the two men, but neither of them notices what I’ve seen. Crew shifts his gaze to mine, sensing my unease, and tenses his brow. I direct my gaze toward Otto as a hint to Crew, and he returns to the conversation, waiting for me to make a move.
Without a second thought, I lunge forward, slamming Otto’s head against the wall while wrapping my hand around his neck. The glass and brown liquid fly into the air, and I hear Crew cursing behind me. Fury fills my chest, and I open the channel, allowing the anger to slam into Crew.
“What the hell?” Otto mumbles against my hold, coughing. “Crew, get your fucking girl.”
Crew leans forward, allowing me to take the lead. “Apparently, Mara wishes to play rough tonight.”
I cut my gaze to Crew, Otto still in my hold. He claws at my arm, but my strength is unmatched compared to his. He can’t escape unless I allow it.
“He’s recording us,” I say. “His phone. And judging by the amount of time it’s been going, he started it the second we walked into this room.”
Crew’s eyes glaze over with an unholy darkness as he walks to the desk and picks up the phone.
The light flashes on the screen, and he sees the recording in progress.
Razor-sharp teeth jut out from Crew’s mouth as he raises his gaze to Otto.
Fear permeates the room as Crew slowly approaches the man I have pinned to the wall.
“You have ten goddamn seconds to tell us why you are recording this,” Crew growls, and his voice changes into something pure evil.