Chapter 18 - Ryker
EIGHTEEN
RYKER
My phone tells me that Liam is at a club.
Not Club La Rouge—that’s tomorrow’s venue—but a Club of Suns. I think that’s a franchise of some sort, maybe from Calamity City. Unless it’s run by a mob family.
Either way.
Liam isn’t being a good boy.
I should put my phone away and catch up on my podcasts, or watch some TV. It’s late, and the hotel room is nice. I didn’t have to stop in NB, not when my next job is in Massachusetts and I could easily have driven all the way there without making a pit stop in NB.
A two-night stay in NB, all because I keep dreaming about pounding a murderous little twink.
After half an hour of not paying attention to the TV show and constantly checking to see if Liam has left the venue, I sigh and admit defeat.
I find a black shirt and the tightest jeans I own so I won’t stand out, then I head out so I can make my way to the nightclub.
Is Liam letting some man rail him against the bathroom wall? That seems like something he’d do, the little slut. He’d even admitted to being a slut and whined about not being able to go for so long without orgasms.
I chuckle to myself. He’d survived the camping trip. Only two orgasms across five days, and one of them was unplanned. I’d been far too nice, giving him another one the morning that we’d packed up and left.
Maybe I can make him go a full month without. He’d be desperate and needy and ready to come with just a single brush against his cock.
The subway is crowded even after rush hour. This is one of the reasons I could never live in the big city full time. I know there’s anonymity in the crowd, in a way there isn’t back in my hometown, but the number of eyes annoys me.
The number of phones annoys me.
I get off at my stop, where a lot of people in tight clothes get off too. There are several bars and nightclubs near this stop, so I’m not surprised.
It doesn’t take long to find the line for Club of Suns, its logo with the club suit inside the sun illuminating the entryway.
The cover fee is exorbitant, but I pay it in cash without a word, handing my fake ID to the guard and heading inside without any words exchanged.
It’s loud. Ridiculously loud, with hip hop music blaring and all the scantily clad people pressing in on each other. I have to muscle my way over to the bar, and once I’m there, I pull my phone out to check Liam’s location.
Within 30 feet, the tracker app tells me.
Within 30 feet, but there are dozens of other twinks here, and hundreds of other bodies.
If anything was going to turn me into a serial killer, it’d probably be this environment.
The bartender asks me if I want anything, but I wave her off and start wandering around the club floor again.
Within 15 feet.
Unfortunately, those fifteen feet lead to the dance floor.
Liam is dancing out there somewhere.
He’s dancing with somebody, somebody who isn’t me. Grinding against someone else’s body, letting them touch him.
I circle around the outside of the dance floor, the music getting louder and louder as I get closer to the speakers and the DJ’s stage. Fuck, how has Liam not blown his ears out yet?
I’m about to give up on this endeavor and wait for Liam to leave the club when I finally spot him.
He’s dancing, all right, with his blue-haired friend in front of him—and a man behind him. It’s hard to tell, but I think the man has his hands on Liam’s hips.
He definitely has his mouth on the back of Liam’s neck.
I want to be amused, but all I feel is sharp annoyance. I’d told him not to sleep with anyone else.
I pull out my phone to send a text to Liam.
Ryker
What are you doing?
I watch, but of course Liam doesn’t hear his phone over the loud music. He probably can’t feel it buzz, either.
Well, he can’t feel the single buzz from a text, but…
I call him.
It takes two tries, but on the second time, he steps away and pulls his phone out of his pocket. After a moment, my own phone lights up with a message.
Brat
Partying!
Ryker
By yourself?
Brat
I’m at Club of Suns with Maggie and a few other people. Wanna join me?
Ryker
Still in DC. Heading up tomorrow. Might stop in NB.
I see Liam’s dance partner leave the dance floor. Not, as I assumed, to find another partner, but to find Liam and wrap his arms around him. He’s taller than Liam, and the flashing lights hint that his hair might be dark, but I can’t tell.
I narrow my eyes at them.
That’s definitely not allowed.
Brat
Pleeease? I’ll ask so nicely.
Ryker
Maybe. If you’re good.
The guy continues to paw at Liam.
Liam ignores him, batting at his hand as he types back to me. I think he’s saying something, but there’s no chance of me hearing it over this music.
Brat
I’m always good.
Ryker
Doubt it.
There’d better not be any marks I didn’t leave on you.
Brat
I thought the deal was that I didn’t fuck any other men?
The guy behind him kisses and sucks the nape of Liam’s neck, with an intensity that’s sure to bruise.
Ryker
I want a pristine canvas
Shit. I delete the entire message history immediately, because it’s all too incriminating. I’ll have to get Liam to erase it on his side later.
Brat
I’m healing nicely from last time, thank you for asking.
The guy pulls Liam closer again, grinding against Liam’s ass, and whispers against his ear.
Brat
But okay, I’ll make sure I don’t have any marks.
Liam turns around, saying something to the guy.
He doesn’t look pleased. Liam starts to wrap his arms around him anyway, but he pulls away from Liam and stalks off.
Even from this distance, I can see that Liam’s eyes are narrowed, and he looks irritated, too. He leaves the dance floor, heading in the direction of the bar.
I make sure to stay well out of sight, following the man who’d been pawing at Liam. It was bold of him to start necking a man he barely knows.
…Unless he does know Liam, and they’ve regularly danced and fucked.
I get a flash of the man hanging from the rafters, his blood draining from him while he whimpers and cries. The entire dance floor could be bathed in his anguish.
I shake the image away and continue.
The smart thing would be to leave. I’ll see Liam tomorrow, and I’ll remind him who he belongs to then.
But as long as I don’t cause lasting damage, there’s no reason I can’t have a chat with this man. I’ll give him a mild scare, and he’ll learn never to get close to Liam again.
I find the guy leaning against a wall in a quieter part of the club. He’s fumbling with a small bag of pills.
I inspect him. He’s too thin, with a mop of dark hair that desperately needs to be brushed. He’s wearing a fishnet shirt and jeans that look like they were painted on.
“Hey,” I say as I approach. “Can you hook me up?”
“Never seen you around here before,” he says, looking me up and down. “What are you looking for?”
I shrug nonchalantly. “Just want a good time. What you got?”
I’m probably too clean cut for this club. I sidle in next to the guy anyway and tap my fingers against my thigh, fidgeting like I’ve seen far too many drug addicts do.
“Nothing you’d be interested in,” he replies. “I don’t think you’re in the right place.”
I sigh and roll my eyes. “I’m sure I am. Why don’t we go outside, and I’ll tell you exactly what I want.”
His eyes flick up and down again as he sizes me up. “Got cash?” he finally asks.
“Yeah.” I pull a wad of bills out of my pocket. He reaches for it, and I pull it out of his reach. “Not until I see the goods. Outside.”
This close to him, I can see that his eyes are glazed over. Maybe that’s why he throws caution to the wind. He huffs out a breath and replies, “Fine, whatever. Let’s go outside.”
We find the nearby exit, where some people are already filtering out. There’s a man braced against the outdoor wall, heaving. We walk past him and toward the fenced-in parking lot. Even outdoors, I can hear the music softly thumping through the walls.
“Okay,” the guy says once we’re out of sight.
I glance around, but the only camera in the area is pointed at the doors.
“Okay,” I agree, and I grab him by the collar and slam his head against the closest car.
He cries out and staggers. “The fuck, man?” he manages to get out.
I grab his wrist and twist his arm behind his back. He struggles against me, and his bag of goodies falls to the parking lot floor.
Kill him, kill him, my mind screams.
“You’re going to go home,” I growl against his ear, “And you’re going to take a nice hot shower. You’re going to think about how much you enjoy living. And you’re never going to set foot inside this club, or any club, ever again. You got it?”
“Yeah, okay,” he gasps. He stops fighting. “Can I go?”
No.
He really would look good beaten to a bloody pulp, his teeth shattered so he couldn’t leave hickeys on anyone ever again.
I lift his hand up, and he lets out a sigh of relief.
I let him enjoy a small reprieve
Then I grab his index finger and snap it backward until I hear a crack.
The guy screams. I drop his hand and cover his mouth with my arm.
“I’d be quiet if you don’t want more fingers broken,” I hiss at him.
“You’re fucking crazy!” he says, the pained words muffled against my arm.
“No. If I was crazy, I’d murder you right here.” I step back and pat his cheek. “I wouldn’t recommend going to the cops, unless you want them to learn all about your little drug-dealing hobby.”
He’s breathing heavily, stumbling away from me with wide eyes as he cradles his hand. “Jesus fuck, okay, fine!”
I wait until he’s out of the parking lot, then I pick up his bag of drugs. They might come in handy in the future. I stuff them into my pocket, before making my way back inside the club.
I’m revved up now, my blood thumping hard inside my veins like it’s following the beat of the too-loud music. It takes me another five minutes before I locate Liam again.
Liam, who is heading into the bathrooms.
I grin and follow him. Somebody complains when I push past him, but one glare has the guy shutting up.