22. Carmela
Carmela
H alloween weekend brings in an entirely different crowd than normal.
Denise taught me never to shame someone for their kinks. But Halloween is…difficult for me to stomach sometimes.
We always put on a show the Saturday night of Halloween weekend. But where stages, tables, and groups are typically set up for regular interests and desires, tonight, they are set up for…more carnal pleasures.
“Is the blood necessary?” Anders asks, watching Jace spread a plastic drop cloth over the main stage.
“It’s not blood. It’s corn syrup and red food coloring.” Jace dips a finger in the bucket of fake blood next to the stage and makes a show of sucking his finger clean.
“Theatrical,” Anders murmurs flatly .
A loud bang makes me jump before turning to see Luca hovering over the broken-down stage he’s just dropped. He’s dressed in his usual club attire, having said it doubles as a motorcycle club costume. He’s still pissed at me and doesn’t pay us any attention as he starts setting up the stage.
The usual crew who sets up for the events has been dismissed until further notice, and I’m thankful for the employees who have stepped up and offered to help get things ready for tonight.
“So, you’re telling me that people want to fuck covered in blood?” Anders ignores Luca, scratching his head.
Jace laughs, flicking a drop of corn syrup toward him. “Vampire kink. Serial killer kink. Being helpless while someone draws blood from you but trusting them enough not to bleed you out,” he lists off before laughing harder as Anders’ face twists from confusion into concern. “I’m beginning to think you’re vanilla, detective.”
I stifle a laugh as I string the last of the crescent moon-shaped lights around a beam just as my phone dings with a text.
Maya
Can’t Jill pick me up and take me home? This sucks .
Nothing has come out of the night she went missing. Oddly enough, no cameras picked up anything, and Maya still insists he never gave her a name or had any distinctive traits or tattoos.
She’s tired of being babysat, but short of keeping her next to me at all times, I’m out of options. There’s no way in hell she’s staying home by herself.
Anders’ arms encircle me from behind with a soft, “Boo. Wanna tell him how not vanilla I am?” He snorts when he reads the text as I hold it up for him to see. “You’d think she’d be overjoyed to meet Jackson finally.”
Since Lenni and Tripp live in the same building as Ginny and Jackson, they decided to spend Halloween together so Lenni could get her dose of baby Benjamin. Maya was less than thrilled to find out how she’d spend the evening. She had been too starstruck when she met Jackson earlier to string together a coherent sentence.
Lenni and I watched in amusement, filling in Ginny quietly—who now thinks my teenager’s crush on her husband is adorable—while Jackson struggled to figure out what to do with the stammering girl in front of him.
It had come as a surprise to find out I had a kid, but Ginny and Jackson didn’t make a big deal about it and for that, I’m thankful. And even though I didn’t tell them who Maya’s father is, I think they both figured it out pretty quickly when I told them not to question her about it.
“I think that’s the problem,” I tell Anders. “I think she’s embarrassed just to exist in the same room as him.”
Sorry, mijita. Jill has plans tonight. You’ll be fine. Think of him as an uncle. He’s an adult with a wife and a new baby. You’re good with kids. Play with Benjamin.
The roar of a chainsaw has Anders cursing in my ear as he lets go of me to look over where a few security guards are checking the power tools. “What the fuck is that?”
“Halloween here is more of a sexual haunted house. It’s the thrill that gets people off—the jump scare,” I explain, choosing my words carefully. It’s not my thing, but like I said…I don’t shame anyone for their kinks.
“Haven’t you ever wanted to get railed by someone wearing a Freddy Krueger or Jason costume? Or dress up like them and just unleash all hell on a tight, willing pussy?”
Jace’s words make my eyes roll, and I walk away as Anders mutters under his breath, “The fuck?”
Maya sends me a picture of her holding baby Benjamin. She’s looking at the camera while he’s looking up at her. It makes my ovaries pinch, and my chest turn warm.
In another life, I would have loved to have another kid.
I press down, and heart react to the photo before putting my phone away. “Anders, I’m going to go change.”
It wasn’t an invitation to go with me, but as I look over my shoulder, my eyes catch Luca’s angry gaze. He’s wrapping a chain around his hand and elbow, brows set in a deep crease, lips flattened in a grimace.
A petite brunette, the same one Anders had been looking at the first night we did a show—Misty, I think her name is—moves in front of him, asking a question I can’t hear. His eyes dip to hers, raking down her body like a lion sizing up his next meal.
For Misty’s sake, I hope she likes it rough. Luca tends to take the Halloween shows very seriously.
“Permission slips?”
“Liability waivers,” I correct Anders.
“I thought everyone signs those when they do their intake?” His voice floats through the crack in the door.
“They do, but I told you, Halloween is a whole different type of show.” I double-check my appearance in the mirror one last time before stepping out of the bathroom.
Anders looks up from his phone briefly before doing a double take, his mouth hanging open as his wide eyes run down the length of my body. He isn’t discreet as he rearranges his dick in his pants. “You’re not going out there dressed like that.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t take orders from strays,” I croon, slapping my mini catch pole against one palm. I’m wearing a latex bodysuit that’s high-waisted and cuts just beneath my breasts, hoisting them up to my chin. His eyes catch on the x-shaped pasties over my nipples with their silver rings and looped chains that connect to each other and up to a thin collar around my neck.
Anders swallows thickly, rising from the sofa to approach me. He’s dressed like a stripper cop, and it sends a trail of fire down my spine. “Looks to me like you’re the one wearing the collar, baby girl.” He fingers one of the chains, sliding his hand up to cradle my neck.
We aren’t planning on performing tonight, but his reaction is exactly what I was hoping for. I shift on my toes, my thigh-high latex boots already hurting my feet.
He mistakes it for something else entirely.
Smirking, he lowers his head until our lips are barely touching. “Is my girl eager to please tonight?” His thumb slides up the hollow of my jaw to press at my lower lip, plunging into my mouth where I trap it between my teeth and suck, swirling my tongue around the pad.
“Fuck me. Look at you,” he swears softly. My suit is skintight, but I can feel his fingers rubbing over the material that covers my pussy. “I’ll bet you’re so fucking wet already, aren’t you?”
I pull the catch pole down and secure it around his neck. Silly man didn’t even realize I’d wrapped my arms around him and lowered the cable around his head until it was too late. “Yeah, baby,” I moan dramatically against his mouth as I press up and kiss him with a laugh. “I’m so wet. Why doesn’t my good boy get on his knees and lap up all my mess?”
He snorts with a smile and pushes me away carefully, grabbing the pole from my hands to release himself. “You’re a smartass.” I head for the door, grabbing my wings and mask as I pass my desk. He calls out behind me, “You’re really gonna make me throw hands with someone tonight, aren’t you?”
Turning, I grin as I slip on my wings and secure my mask with a shrug. “Not if you can catch me first.”
Anders darts toward me, slipping his mask on quickly as he readies the catch pole. With a squeal, I take off down the hall and disappear into the Grand Room. It’s packed, full of angels and demons, monsters and fairytale characters, slutty nurses, and the occasional sports player all gathered together for one thing.
One giant, horror-filled fuckfest.
“There are too many people here,” Martin bellows over the cacophony of lust-fueled screams and the whirring buzz of power tools. “This was not well thought out.”
I wipe my sweaty hair away from my face. The room is crammed with so many people that it’s hard to breathe—not to mention the air is stale with the stench of corn syrup and sex. We have to be at maximum capacity, if not over it. “Where is Luca? They should have stopped letting people in!”
Across the room, I see Anders searching for me in a panic, the red pulsating lights slicing over his handsome face. Pulling Martin down, I speak into his radio, “We’re over by the main stage.”
A wave of corn syrup flies from the drop cloth and splashes my left side, covering me in the sticky red substance. Martin says something else into his radio, but it’s drowned out by the high-pitched squeal coming from the woman on stage who’s hogtied and being gangbanged by a bunch of cowboys.
There’s a sharp pinch beneath my left butt cheek. I whirl around, ready to tell off whoever touched me, but there’s no one there. Well, there are lots of people, but no one is paying me any attention. Reaching down, I swipe my fingers over the dull throb, but my fingers only come back covered in corn syrup.
Wiping my hand on my bodysuit, I pull Martin’s head down again. “Find Luca. We have to get some of these people out of here.”
I hate seeing my club like this. In all the years we’ve been doing these shows, it’s never gotten out of hand. Luca knows better. My team knows better.
So what the fuck is going on tonight?
Anders appears by my side, hands gripping my waist as he pulls me to him. “Where the fuck is Luca?” he roars into my ear.
“Apparently, no one knows.” Another roar of a chainsaw peals throughout the room, followed by an ominous cackling that sounds like something out of a horror film.
A grim reaper grabs my bicep and hauls me against his sweaty chest. “You looook like funnnn,” he slurs. I can smell the whiskey on his breath through the fabric of his hood. He smells like he bathed in it.
What the fuck?
Yes, we have a bar, but clients aren’t allowed more than a few drinks. No one has ever been allowed to get drunk. Jace knows better, but then again, Jace might be in the crowd tonight .
Anders shoves his way between us and pushes the guy back forcefully. “Don’t fucking touch her!”
“Stop!” I shout, trying to pull him away as the guy gets in his face. They’re drawing a crowd, and a group of clowns step in to break them apart.
Someone grabs me around the waist and lifts me off the ground. I kick and squirm and sharply yell for whoever it is to put me down as they drag me further and further away. Panic erupts in my chest. What if this is the killer? The men here know they can’t touch us without permission. Who else would so brazenly grab me? Besides the drunk grim reaper.
I dig my nails into the arm wrapped around me. The person is wearing a long-sleeved shirt, so I don’t do much damage, but I attempt to inflict any sort of pain I can. One heeled boot connects with a random body part, resulting in a sharp hiss loud enough for me to hear over the chaos.
Tears spring to my eyes as Anders gets swallowed by the crowd. What happened to Martin? Where is Nikolai?
“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” Luca’s thundering boom comes out of nowhere, making my heart stop with the sheer viciousness of it. I don’t see which way he comes from, but suddenly, I’m on the floor as the large man tackles whoever had me.
A scream erupts the second I hit the hardwood, but this one is different than the others I’ve heard tonight. This is a bloodcurdling, make the hair on your arms stand up, something is very wrong, type of scream.
Another joins it, then another. Bodies hurry through the room in a mass of disarray. Some run for the exit, while others gather around the far end of the space, where the viewing rooms are. When I look over my shoulder, Luca is nowhere to be found, and neither is the person who tried to abduct me.
As the room empties, I get to my feet, silently cursing my choice to wear a fucking underbust corseted bodysuit. My boobs are flopping around everywhere in the most unattractive manner. I rush to the end of the hall, where security pulls people away and shoves them toward the Grand Room.
“What is going on?” I ask the first guard I reach.
“It’s fucking gruesome,” he informs me. “If you’re squeamish, don’t go in there.”
Ignoring him, I dart toward the room, hearing Anders yell out behind me, “Madame!”
At least he has enough sense not to use my real name in a state of panic.
When I reach the room that is the source of the commotion, I feel my stomach roil as it threatens to spill everything I’ve eaten today. The scent of pennies is cloying as copper fills the air.
Even in the red lights, I can see it splashed everywhere—blood. Dark and thick and literally everywhere .
Anders’ arms wrap around my shoulders. “Fuck.”
Fuck doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Because there, in the middle of the room on the queen-sized bed, is a man who’s been brutally dismembered. His limbs litter the floor in piles of sinew and splintered bone. His torso has been slashed open, and his insides spill over the side of the bed to the floor.
Bile rises in my throat, and I turn my face into Anders’ shoulder as the room suddenly goes dark before the regular lights flicker on. Seeing it without the filter of the red lights is more jarring. It makes it more real.
“How the fuck did this happen?” Anders asks no one in particular.
Someone answers, “It just looked like a damn good act. The only ones allowed to use the power tools are the guards. No one thought it was real until a client tried to join in.”
The doors are supposed to be locked for those acts. Another wave of nausea hits me as I think of a client walking in on that and realizing it wasn’t an act at all.
“What’s in his fucking mouth?” Anders lets go of me, walking further into the room, careful not to step in any of the blood. Though, that’s difficult because nearly every inch around the bed is covered in it.
“The police are on the way,” Nikolai’s voice rings out. “The right ones,” he stresses. Meaning, he called Paul to send the ones he trusts.
“What is it?” I ask Anders. He grips part of the sheet to retrieve whatever it is. When he turns, he lifts his eyes to the wall he’s facing, a shocked look taking over his features. In his hands is a wilted, dead rose.
I step into the room to see what he’s staring at. The second my feet move, he snaps, “Don’t.”
But it’s too late. Every nerve in my body sparks adrenaline through my veins. I stop breathing, chest aching as I take in the words I’m seeing.
There’s a message on the viewing window, written in blood.
You’re next.