Chapter 17 Tunnel Teeth #2
Adrian's voice cut through the moment like a blade. “When you two are finished, we have work to do.”
I turned. Adrian stood in his office doorway with Noah beside him.
“The plan requires both of you,” Adrian continued. “So I suggest you sort out whatever this is quickly. We don't have time for drama.”
Cal straightened. Smoothed his jacket. Became clinical again in the space of a breath. “We're sorted.”
“Are we?” Adrian's gaze moved between us. “Because from where I'm standing, you look like two men who are about to make this exponentially more complicated than it needs to be.”
“The investigation comes first,” Cal said. “Personal complications won't interfere.”
“See that they don't.” Adrian gestured back toward his office. “Both of you. Inside. We have details to finalise.”
“Mr Mercer has proposed using Eden as bait,” Adrian said without preamble. “We already know that Harrow's network uses the club for transactions they can't risk in public spaces. He wants to create a scenario that draws them into a controlled environment where their activities can be documented.”
I looked at Cal. “You want to trap them at Eden.”
“Yes.”
“Using what as bait?”
“A private scene. Something that appears exclusive, valuable, time-sensitive.” Cal's voice stayed clinical. “Harrow's people respond to scarcity and spectacle. We give them both.”
“And who exactly participates in this scene?” I asked.
Cal's eyes met mine. “We do.”
Adrian leaned back in his chair, watching our reactions.
“Explain,” Adrian said.
Cal turned his attention to Adrian. The nerves were still there, subtle but visible in the way he held himself too still. “Harrow's network knows Dom frequents Eden. They know he has connections to you. If we stage a scene it creates an opportunity they can't ignore.”
“You want to use Dom as bait.”
“I want to use both of us as bait. But yes, Dom's presence makes it credible.” Cal's jaw tightened. “I've been building profiles on Harrow's associates for months. I know which ones attend Eden. I know their patterns. I know what they respond to. This works.”
“And what makes you think they'll take the bait?” Noah asked.
“Because I'll make sure they know about it.
Carefully. Through channels that won't trace back to us.” Cal pulled out his phone, showed Adrian something I couldn't see.
“I have contacts who can seed information without triggering suspicion.
By the time Harrow's people arrive, they'll think they've discovered something valuable on their own.”
Adrian was quiet for a long moment. Then: “What do I get out of this?”
The question was casual. Almost conversational. But I heard the steel underneath. Adrian didn't do favours. He made investments that paid returns.
Cal had expected this. “Protection. If this works, you have documented evidence of corruption happening on your property. Evidence you had no knowledge of. Evidence that makes you appear cooperative with any investigation that follows.”
“And if it doesn't work?”
“Then you have leverage on a Crown prosecutor. Either way, you benefit.”
“Leverage implies I'm holding something over him. That suggests involvement.”
“Leverage implies you know something useful.” Cal's voice stayed steady. “How you obtained that knowledge is immaterial. And if pressed, you can always claim you were investigating suspicious activity at your own club.”
Adrian's mouth curved slightly. “You've thought this through.”
“I've been thinking about it.”
Adrian looked at me. “Your thoughts?”
“I think it's reckless,” I said honestly. “I think using Eden puts your entire operation at risk. I think trying to trap corrupt prosecutors in a BDSM club is exactly the kind of plan that sounds brilliant until it goes catastrophically wrong.”
“But?” Adrian prompted.
“But Cal's right about the window. And if we don't move soon, Harrow will disappear behind so many lawyers and sealed files we'll never touch him.” I met Cal's gaze. “I'm in.”
“Even knowing the risks?”
“Especially knowing the risks. My sister's dead because people like Harrow operate without consequences. If this is what it takes to change that, I'll do it.”
Adrian was silent for another long moment. Then he nodded. “Very well. You have access to Eden. But understand: if this compromises my operation in any way, the consequences fall on both of you.”
“Understood,” Cal said.
“And you'll need participants. A believable scene requires more than just the two of you. I can provide people. Experienced. Discreet. Trustworthy.”
“That would be helpful.” Cal's shoulders relaxed fractionally. “When can we move?”
“A couple of days. That gives us time to prepare properly. To ensure security is in place. To brief everyone involved.” Adrian stood.
“Mr Mercer, you'll coordinate with Noah on technical requirements.
Cameras, audio, whatever you need. Dom, you'll work with our scene coordinators to ensure the scenario appears authentic.”
Cal shifted his weight. The nerves flickered again, just for a second. “Before Eden. There's a witness. Someone who might have information about who Harrow was protecting in Lily's case.”
My head turned sharply. “Who?”
“Someone who worked in the courthouse the night the evidence was sealed. Someone who saw things they weren't supposed to see.” Cal's jaw tightened. “They agreed to meet. Tonight. But they're nervous. Compromised. This might be our only chance.”
“Where?” I demanded.
“Courthouse service tunnels. Access point near the old archives.” Cal looked at Adrian. “We need to go now. Before they change their mind or Harrow gets to them first.”
“Why didn't you mention this before?” I kept my voice level, but barely.
“Because I wasn't sure they'd actually show.” Cal's eyes met mine. “And because I knew you'd insist on coming, which means more risk, more exposure. But after tonight—after Harrow made me at the gala—I don't have the luxury of working alone anymore.”
Adrian studied us both for a moment. “Go. But be careful. If Harrow's already moving against you, he'll have people watching.”
“Understood.” Cal was already moving toward the door.
I followed. “You better not have been planning to do this without me.”
“The thought crossed my mind.” He didn't look back. “Multiple times.”
“And?”
“And then I remembered the part where we agreed to do this together. Even when every instinct I have says going alone is safer.” His voice went quieter. “For both of us.”
We didn't speak again until we were in my car, navigating London streets that had gone quiet with the lateness of the hour. Cal sat rigid in the passenger seat, staring out the window like he was cataloguing every shadow, every possible threat.
“How long have you known about this witness?” I asked.
“Three weeks. I've been cultivating the contact slowly. Carefully. One wrong move and they'd have disappeared completely.”
“Three weeks.” I gripped the steering wheel tighter. “You've been sitting on this for three weeks.”
“I've been building trust for three weeks.” Cal finally looked at me. “This person is terrified, Dom. They've watched what happens to people who cross Harrow. They needed time to believe I could protect them. That meeting me wouldn't be the last mistake they ever made.”
“And now they're ready to talk.”
“Now they're desperate enough that fear of staying silent outweighs fear of speaking.” His mouth tightened. “Which means Harrow's tightening the noose. Which means we're running out of time.”
The courthouse after hours was a different beast. Empty corridors that echoed footsteps. Security lights that left more shadows than illumination.
Cal moved through it like he'd been there a hundred times. No hesitation. No checking signs or consulting maps. Just smooth, certain navigation that spoke of intimate knowledge.
“You've been here before,” I said quietly.
“Many times.” He led me down stairs that hadn't seen maintenance in decades. “I've spent years mapping this building's secrets.”
“Mapping how? You just walk around memorising layouts?”
Cal glanced back at me. Something shifted in his expression. “I have a photographic memory. Eidetic recall, technically. I see something once, it stays forever. It's useful for investigations. Less useful for everything else.”
“What do you mean less useful?”
“I mean I remember everything, Dom. Every case file I've ever read. Every witness statement. Every photograph of every crime scene. Every face of every victim whose justice got buried.” His voice stayed flat.
Clinical. But I heard the weight underneath.
“I remember the expression on my partner's face when he died.
I remember the exact words Harrow used when he destroyed my career.
I remember every threat, every failure, every person I couldn't save.”
We reached a door marked “Staff Only.” Cal pulled out a thin piece of metal, worked the lock with practiced ease.
“That sounds like hell,” I said quietly.
“It's both blessing and curse.” The lock clicked and Cal pushed the door open onto a passage that smelled like old paper and older stone.
“The blessing is I never need notes. Never forget details. Can reconstruct entire conversations from months ago with perfect accuracy. Makes me very good at my job.”
“And the curse?”
“The curse is I can't forget anything. Can't let things go.
Can't move past trauma because it lives in my head with the same clarity as the day it happened.” He started down the passage.
“I don't have the luxury of memory fading.
Of pain dulling with time. It's all right there.
Always. Every moment I've ever wanted to forget preserved in perfect detail.”
I followed him deeper. The passage narrowed. Got colder. “Is that one of the reasons why you work alone? Because remembering people clearly makes it harder when you lose them?”