6. Anders
Anders
W hen I return to my hotel, an envelope waits for me—a flash drive full of blueprints and a membership card with detailed instructions on which entrances it will get me into. Hours pass as I pore over the information, scrutinizing every inch of the two blocks Désirer is housed under. I try to remember a time when the hallway I went through before ever sloped down, but I can’t recall. It seemed like the club was street level, but it’s not.
It’s a walking security problem. There are over fifteen entrances, and just because they have security posted at each one doesn’t mean shit. Any of her guards could be implicated: dirty, lazy, letting their friends in thinking they won’t get caught. The list goes on.
Martin and Nikolai took over watching Carmela at the club for the evening. Eyes should be on her at all times, but I need a breather. The tension between us sizzles when we’re in a room together. The fact that Mick hasn’t noticed tells me he truly thinks she belongs to him. Even more so, him offering me up as her personal plaything means he doesn’t think I’m a threat.
I haven’t decided if that’s a good or bad thing.
Every single brain cell screams at me to walk away from this case. Go back to California and do boring-ass desk duty. I can tell myself I don’t want Carmela all I want, but those are just words. My body comes alive when I see her. I want to dig my fingers into her flesh and leave marks to show her just how much I don’t want to touch her. Twist my fingers in her hair and pull to see the pain flicker across her beautiful face because that’s what I feel when I look at her. I want to sink myself inside her tight, warm body and make her beg for release—want to hear how needy she is for my cock—but the reminder that plenty of others warm her bed makes me want to withhold that pleasure from her.
I want her messy and writhing, moaning my name like she’s got a one-way ticket to Hell, and I’m her only fucking savior.
But I also want to be her damnation.
Things always end badly for women in her line of work. She provoked a monster and brought him right to the doors of her sinful playground, not only putting herself in danger but the rest of the Angels who work there.
It's as if God is laughing at me. It’s like six years have never passed, and I’m right back where I was. With a decision to make and the chance to choose the right one this time, yet I already know I’m leaning left.
Regardless of what I say, I respect any woman who tries to make a living for herself. I understand the concept of what Carmela is trying to do with her club, but if I keep telling her I don’t, then maybe she’ll stay away from me on her own.
The fall air is turning crisp. Green leaves give way to golden yellows and oranges as fall settles in, with October looming on the horizon. There’s no breeze as I walk through the streets, but the bite stings my face and makes me miss home even more than I already do. I miss the sunrise on the water—the sand beneath my feet. Mom’s homemade lasagna and Grams’ infectious laugh when she beats me at chess.
Life is calm at home.
But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t also miss the chaos of the job.
Streetlights glow as I walk under scaffolding, passing bars that are getting ready for last call and groups of people still enjoying their night, even though it’s three in the morning. I’m expecting everyone to be gone at the club by now, giving me the perfect chance to explore every inch of it without interruption.
Only a few entrances don’t require someone to let you in. The shiny black metal card slides smoothly into the door lock of a random business. This one has a shiny platinum feather on it— unlike the gold one on Luca’s—and I assume it was made to give me access to whatever I needed while on the case.
I wait for the red light to turn green before going in, then make sure it locks again behind me. It looks like a regular office, though the air is stale and doesn’t seem like it’s been occupied recently. The desks are bare—the computers shut down. Per the flash drive, I know the entrance is in the back, and this time, I pay attention to the slight slope of the red-lit hall as I descend to the club.
Since it’s after-hours, I didn’t bring a mask, but I still check for surveillance even if my face is in plain sight. So far, it seems they have cameras in every corner, and I know Carmela has already asked their tech department to pull footage from the other night for any sign of the killer.
As packed as the shows are, I don’t think it will be easy to single someone out. The cameras span the halls but aren’t allowed in the rooms…at least, that’s what I was told. I have a feeling there are cameras in the rooms; otherwise, I don’t know how they’d uphold their rules.
Music drifts from the Desires hall as I enter the Grand Room. The lights are still on but are dimmed so low they might as well be off. It gives the space an eerie vibe, reminding me of an abandoned theme park as I slink through the couches to the hall. I don’t see anyone else as I quietly make my way through the shadows. At the far end of the hall is where the large open space for the show is, and there’s a faint glow coming from a stage.
It takes my eyes a minute to adjust before I make out Carmela on a stage with a pole. She’s dressed in a pair of hot pants and a strappy top that barely contains her tits, using the pole to dance. A man’s voice sings about flirty eyes and lustful thoughts as she mounts the pole, twisting and turning her body on the way back down.
I’ve seen strippers work a pole before. Whatever Carmela is doing, is not that. It’s dancing mixed with acrobatic work, showing off her toned body and making my cock harden behind my pants. It isn’t sexual, yet somehow still exudes sensuality. She puts on a show for no one but herself. Up on the stage, she looks happy. Worry-free, like there’s not a killer threatening her life.
That thought has me scanning the shadows for Martin and Nikolai. Carmela isn’t supposed to be left alone at all. So either those two are around here somewhere, or we all suck at our jobs. I don’t see them, but figure if they are here, they are staying hidden like I’m trying to do .
My gaze returns to her, drawn back like a moth to a flame. While I watch her, my thoughts stray to earlier in her office at her restaurant. The way her anger radiated off her, a palpable energy that I grabbed onto and sculpted into an orgasm that had her riding my hand. She thinks she’s so clever, trying to rile me up with comments about me being a prude and being stiff.
Carmela wanted me to touch her. And she wanted to think I walked right into her trap.
No, I knew exactly what you were doing, baby girl.
She was so caught up in her own game that she didn’t realize I was playing my own. The look on her face when she came was worth it. It was hard, pun intended, but I could have walked away from her. I could have denied her that orgasm, but she grabbed onto me and silently begged me to get her off. I knew everything she was doing and gave in to her anyway.
All her whispered words haunt me. Just one taste. Just one touch. I hate you.
One more taste and one more touch will never be enough, and I realize this as I watch her dance. My cock reaches for her, making me wish I was in place of that pole right now.
Fuck it.
Just as I step forward to make her aware of my presence, a large figure steps out of the shadows a little ways away from me. Instantly, I’m on alert, thinking it may be the killer. Then I realize it’s Luca .
Hugging the wall, I stay hidden, watching as he makes his way to her slowly, fixated on her every move. She either doesn’t realize he’s there or doesn’t care because she doesn’t stop, even when he pulls out a chair and sits to watch her. As the song ends, she slowly slides down the pole and lands gently on her back, turning her head to her imaginary audience.
“Come home with me tonight,” Luca softly demands. If his presence startles her, she doesn’t show it, eyes moving to find him as she sits up gracefully.
“Luca, we talked about this–”
“I don’t give a damn what we talked about, Cara.” Luca rises from his chair and makes his way to the stage, bracing his hands on the edge. “Why won’t you just let me take care of you?”
Something sharp hits me between my rib cage, slashing up to form a heavy ball in my throat. Carmela sighs as she stands, allowing him to help her off the stage. Red blurs my vision when he doesn’t remove his hands from her hips and pulls her closer to him.
“It’s complicated. My life is complicated, and you know it. I’ve told you time and time again not to wait for me, Luca. I’m not going to change my mind.” She sounds like she’s talking to a child throwing a tantrum, her voice softer than I thought she was capable .
“And we both know it’s just an excuse you hide behind. Do you think Mick is going to challenge my father? We both know he’d let you go if you told him you want to be with me.” Even though Luca is standing right in front of her, I doubt he notices the brief flicker of pain that crosses her features at his words. Whatever is going on with her and Mick runs deeper than just a casual fling, and I add it to my mental list of things to look into.
Before she can respond, he lets her go and takes a step back. “Is this because of that detective?”
Instantly, her face morphs into pure annoyance as her hands find her hips. “What does Detective Brooks have anything to do with this?”
Yes, Cara, what do I have to do with this?
“I saw the way you two looked at each other. If you haven’t fucked him already, you will. He wants you just as bad as you want him. And don’t think I don’t know what you were doing in your office before I walked in, Cara. Right after he left? Your cheeks were flushed, just like they do when you come. Not red, like when you’re angry, but rosy, like when you’re aroused,” Luca accuses.
What did you do after I left the other night, baby girl? Did you touch yourself and think about me when you came?
Switching my weight to the other foot, I adjust myself to ease the strain of my erection as I watch her sputter indignantly. “You…I was not…you have no idea what you’re talking about!”
Luca lets out a long sigh before he shakes his head. “I’m not going to wait forever, Cara.”
“I didn’t ask you to! In fact, I’ve told you multiple times not to! One of those being thirty seconds ago!” She storms past him, angrily muttering to herself as she makes her way back out of the hall.
Luca watches her go, and I watch him, wondering if he’ll go after her. Something about him doesn’t sit right with me, but I can’t dissect if it’s because he’s the son of a mob boss or because he knows what it feels like to be inside Carmela. He doesn’t strike me as dangerous, not toward her anyway.
After a few minutes, he leaves, and I silently follow him, watching as he exits the building before making my way to Carmela’s office, where she’s still inside.
I feel like a stalker. Waiting at one end of the hall until her door opens and she makes her way out of the club, completely unaware that she’s being followed. We should have assigned someone to be with her at all times, but at least I have peace of mind as long as she’s within sight.
No town car is waiting to take her to her destination, and she doesn’t hail a cab. Instead, she takes her time walking, barely looking up from her phone as she unknowingly leads me a few blocks away. We pass a few people—men who stop and stare at her, deciding whether or not to say anything before they catch my warning glare.
This one is spoken for.
In more ways than one.
Our walk ends at a beige brick building that looks like an upscale apartment complex. A dark brown awning hangs over glass doors that lead to a lavish-looking lobby. There’s a doorman who tips his hat, offering her a smile and a, “Good morning, Miss Lane,” as he lets her in.
Is this her apartment? Is it Mick’s? A secret love nest where they can hide their scandalous relationship from the rest of the world? It isn’t on any main roads, tucked away, and not overly large. There can’t be more than twenty residences. Yet, it’s bougie enough for a doorman and what looks like a twenty-four-hour concierge.
I wait a few minutes before casually making my way across the street to go inside. The doorman peers at me skeptically, but opens the door anyway. Marble flooring gleams under gentle recessed lighting, and the small lobby is littered with real, large-leafed plants. The concierge watches me perceptively as I approach the elevators, realizing they need a key card to operate. Not that I’m planning to surprise Carmela at her front door or anything.
“Can I help you, sir?” the man behind the desk asks.
Walking back over, I flash my badge—something I’ve always hated doing—and watch his eyes widen. “The woman who just walked in, Miss Lane? Does she live alone?”
He nods enthusiastically. “Yes, she’s always lived alone since moving here. Is she in some sort of trouble?”
Ignoring his question, I ask another. “Does she bring anyone back here, ever?”
“No. I mean, sometimes Miss Parks—ah—Mrs. Kennedy visits her. But other than that, no, sir.”
The tension melts from my body as I nod and read the man’s name tag, “Thank you, Ed. Let’s keep this little chat between us, okay? Miss Lane isn’t in any trouble. I can assure you of that.”
Ed promises to stay quiet as I leave. Grabbing a cab, I realize I didn’t do any of the shit I set out to do, getting distracted by Carmela once again. But still, I got answers tonight. They have nothing to do with the case and everything to do with my growing personal interest in this damn woman.
However, I can’t deny that I’m incredibly pleased with my findings.