CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
TY
R ena and I stand in a private lobby before the host of Temptress—the sex club above Eternal Night—waiting for him to process our registration and secure our fifty-thousand-dollar buy-in. She’s clad in a seductive little black dress that hides nothing, with a lacy mauve-and-black bra peeking out above the plunging sweetheart neckline, a butterfly eye mask, a dark auburn wig, and thigh-high boots that elongate her already-long and shapely legs. But all I see is red.
My hand rests loosely on her hip, but for the brief beat we’re left alone when the host steps away, I tighten my grip and quietly rasp, “I swear to fuck if anyone touches you, I’m going to slice their throat.”
She rolls her eyes and muffles a giggle, tapping her toe to the rhythm of the bass emanating from below us. “Right. As you’ve been claiming for the past two hours. It’s just as swoonworthy as the first time though. If that’s what you were going for.”
When we walked through for our tour, she gained the attention of several men and women, so my pulse is hammering my temples, and the metallic taste of blood is filling my mouth from the hole I’ve gnawed into it. Anywhere else, her on my arm would be a clear indication to stay the hell away. But here, it’s like open fucking season with a vibrant swinger scene. Everyone is hoping I’ll share.
“Simmer down, Tytan,” Gage bellows into my earpiece—a tiny, spy-sized device that is invisible to anyone around us. “Your Little Moon is glued to your fucking hip. Jesus.”
Liam chuckles. “I get it, man, but this should be an easy in and out job. Concentrate on that. Then, we lock her the hell up.”
“Oh goody,” Rena mumbles just before the host returns.
I’d like to say that I’d prefer it if we were here for pleasure, but the truth is, I don’t think I could stomach that either. I’m certainly not opposed to the kink rooms, but I’ll build her one of those in our house if she wants that. Parading her around in front of hungry men would have me losing my goddamn mind, no matter the intent of the visit.
And tonight, that’s for KORT. Our third envelope arrived this afternoon.
Task Three:
Rena and Tytan. You may work as a team again.
Since you are both familiar with the club Eternal Night, you are already better equipped for this job. The highly exclusive sex club Temptress is above it, which is why the nightclub has maintained the mask entrance requirement. Discretion is of the utmost importance to their high-end members. All information on their clientele resides in physical files that are locked in a room behind the main office, which correspond to code names on the electronic files.
Retrieve the complete list of members by midnight tonight. No further research into the club may be performed.
As with the previous tasks, Liam and Gage may only assist from afar or in an instance where either of you are made .
The mention of our familiarity with Eternal Night was to assure us that they’d been watching us or done their due diligence to unveil some of our adventures prior to these twisted trials. You gotta love manipulative subtleties.
We quickly surmised the best way to infiltrate the office was to be among the members, so Rena and I arrived at about eight o’clock to lock in our membership, which brings us back to our conversation with the host.
“Here you go, Mr. Clemmens.” He returns the ID I’m using for this—that of a multimillionaire businessman in plastics manufacturing—along with the copy of the rules that I already signed and a brochure listing the amenities. “Everything is in order. Would you like me to help you get settled into one of our private areas?”
“I think we’ll wander for a while,” I tell him, stashing the documents and ID in my inner suit-coat pocket and traipsing toward the entrance with Rena in tow. “Thank you.”
He opens the door with a contrived smile. “My pleasure, sir. The staff is available for any questions, concerns, requests. Anything at all. It’s an honor to have you here with us.”
And we’re finally fucking in. That took far longer than I would have liked. It’s already after nine.
Our first stop is the main bar, which extends the length of the primary room, simply so we can blend in and become acquainted with our surroundings. Rena slides onto a stool, tucking her backpack purse in beside her, and we both order drinks. The atmosphere is warm and upscale. There’s a gold and black aesthetic—keeping it dark yet elegant with a hint of shimmer. Because this is the reception area, there isn’t much debauchery to be seen. Most men are sporting suits, like me, and most women are donning dresses.
In addition to the bar, there’s a dining area with five-star cuisine, a piano lounge, and some poker tables, of course. While the Rock Through the Ages music isn’t discernable here, in the back play areas, the bass rocks the floor, and the music is piped into the rooms.
We’ll need to head that way to get to the main office, but seeming too eager could draw a red flag. Most people require a warm-up period. So, we make small talk while I mentally log everyone present.
After about ten minutes, a forty-something guy sidles up beside Rena, his sidelong ogle trailing her body as he waits for the bartender.
I lean past her, ensuring that he’s aware I’m addressing him. “No.”
He turns his head, and whatever he finds on my face has him backing down. “My mistake,” he says, lifting a surrendering palm and ambling away.
“One. Fucking. Word,” Liam howls into the earpiece, having not only heard but also viewed the whole exchange through the lapel cameras Rena and I are wearing. “Christ, Moonshine. We should’ve unleashed you on this guy years ago.”
“No shit,” Gage echoes. “It’s what I’ve been saying all along—your extremes needed to meet in the middle. Feed your beast, but know when to lull him to sleep. Looks like you found your way with a little moonshine.”
Rena sips her wine and smiles, but neither of us can respond because there are eyes on us.
When the bartender swaggers over to check on us, he smirks at my wife, flicking his eyes between the two of us. “The possessive type, huh?”
She laughs her bright, melodic warble while I seethe beside her. “Absolutely. We were in a rush tonight, so I didn’t have all my accessories. Otherwise, he’d have me on a leash, just the way I like it.”
He chuckles at that, seemingly friendly, but all I can think is that he’s picturing her naked, minus a collar. And that it rolled off her tongue without a smidgen of hesitation.
“Let me know if you two need a private reservation. We’ve still got a couple of rooms open tonight.” He leans in closer, his gaze set on me. “We have some clientele who prefer them young, so your girl here is going to be a sparkly jewel in any of the group areas. ”
Rena does look young, even with the mask on. Her skin has that youthful sheen and plumpness to it that emerges in the teen years. How young do these members want their girls? That thought has my gut churning. But they required proof that she was eighteen when we registered, so I push that away, not permitting my head to cloud with old ghosts.
“Noted,” I say with a crooked grin. “I’ll be sure to make things clear. I appreciate the heads-up.”
He strides away to another customer, but something about the entire exchange has me restless.
We don’t have time to stick around and chat with him though, so I glide my hand along Rena’s lower back and take her hand to help her up. “Let’s go explore, baby girl.”
She bites her lip, widens her eyes, and nods in an exaggerated sex-kitten gesture that serves as a sufficient cover and has the guys laughing into the comm. “Tonight’s song is ‘Tom’s Diner,’ ” she announces.
“Ahh.” I lean close to her cheek, excited to show how well I understand her. “Because we aren’t here to partake. We’re observing, distant.”
“God, you’re good,” she breathes.
Threading our fingers together, we stroll through the main area. Due to the exclusivity and privacy laws, there are no cameras up here. So, Liam and Gage can only view through our lens, which is disconcerting, to say the least. We rarely work without several angles.
“We’re tracking one security guard per every fifteen people,” Gage concludes.
I lean toward Rena as though I’m whispering in her ear, which also points my lapel cam in the direction I’m referencing. “There are a few disguised as waitstaff. Penguin suits.”
“Lots of eyes,” Liam states as we turn the corner to venture down the hall toward the play areas. “But they aren’t used to dealing with anything stiffer than bananas in fruit salad, so you got this.”
“Brilliant use of puns.” Rena giggles, glancing up at me while we pass another couple, but responding to Liam. “How many more of those you got stored up?”
“Plenty where that came from,” he boasts. “I’m a never-ending vault of smart-ass remarks, Moonshine. Don’t you worry.”
Playrooms are to the left, offices to the right, changing rooms straight ahead. We breeze past the intersecting hallways toward the locker rooms. It’s evident that there is a manager in the main office, which we need to cross through, but there is another manager walking toward us, so I stop her to fling a myriad of questions about which areas are still available tonight.
She patiently responds to each one, and when Rena throws out a few of her own queries, I swipe the key card from her that I assume opens the office door. Thanking her for her time and determining that we want to explore a little longer, we go on our way. I guide Rena a little farther toward the corridor with private rooms so we can feign peeking while I give the go-ahead for the plan we discussed if security was tight.
“It needs to be cut to create an opening.” That’s in reference to the electricity. A quick bobble with the power should inflict enough commotion to cause management to scurry out and allow us to slip on through.
“Agreed,” Gage volleys. “We’ve got a second diversion on standby as well, should you get cornered. Let us know when you’re ready.”
Before we can respond, two men and a lady mosey out of the changing rooms and block our route. Like everyone back here, their attire drips with wealth-drenched depravity. At first, it seems as though they’re a throuple, but on further inspection, it looks like a couple with a friend, who are all simply open.
The single guy casts his thirsty gape on Rena. “You look familiar, sweet thing. You been here before?”
“Never,” I reply for her.
We purposely had her wear a wig and avoided as many people as we could downstairs, so that should anything go wrong, Little Moon’s presence would not be shared. I assumed most of these people would be unfamiliar with her from the few nights she sang. The clubs are connected, but act as separate entities, catering to different customers while also offering an excuse for someone who wouldn’t want any association with a sex club. But this guy may have seen her here last month. Thankfully, he can’t seem to place her.
“She must resemble someone then.” He can’t peel his eyes from her as he mutters that. “Are you two interested in company?”
“I don’t play well with others,” I reply, to which Gage and Liam cackle in my ear.
This asshole has the nerve to lick his lips, murmuring, “That’s a shame,” like a spellbound moron.
Jesus , I’m not fucking cut out for this shit. He’s quite possibly a decent human being, and we are in a goddamn sex club, but if he drools over my wife for one more second, I’m going to knock his teeth out.
“Are you gonna move? Or am I going to move you?” That’s the most civility I can muster. Hopefully, he views it as the gift it is.
Rena’s palm lands on my chest in a blatant reprimand, telling me to calm down, her voice as smooth as honey. “You’ll have to forgive us. It’s our first time here, and my guy isn’t the sharing type. It’s been a lot to digest. But we appreciate the offer.”
The drooling moron’s mouth quirks with haughty amusement, which only boils my blood.
But the lady coils herself around the other man with a giggle, sending a wink my way. “No worries. It’s not for everyone.”
Over this and ready to get on with our job, night, and fucking life, I grab Rena’s hand and drag her toward an open private room. It appears to be in the process of being cleaned, but no one is in here, so I close us in and address Gage and Liam. “We’re about thirty paces from the target. It’s a key-card entrance, but it’s possible it won’t lock during an outage.”
“We’re cutting for three, then flickering,” Liam says. “If you need to use the card, we’ll flicker sooner. You two picked one hell of a room to stow away in.”
Rena blushes a deep crimson. We’re in a heavy-bondage, dungeon-themed room—whips, chains, cages, and more.
“Oh, the places you and Little Moon could go,” Gage croons. “Actually, you might want to invite the peeper back. Plenty of ways to take care of him in there.”
This probably reads as an amusement park to the Big Guy, who fuels himself with Black Rifle Coffee and torture tactics.
Rena peers around and furrows her brow in rumination while unzipping her backpack, probably wondering if Magie Noire has something similar, but now is not the time to delve into that. So, I ignore the taunts from the guys and blow past her curiosity, anxious to get the hell out of here.
“All right, motherfuckers, let’s move,” I order the guys before glancing at Rena. “You ready?”
She plucks her glittery, bazooka-pink-and-rose-gold Sig Sauer P365 pistol—a gift from me—out of her bag, zips it back up with her CZ Scorpion Micro still inside, and nods once she tucks the small pistol into the tactical lace garter belt around her thigh. “I’m good. Let’s do it.”
“Fuck, you’re sexy,” I rasp, clutching her cheeks as I capture her lips and wonder if we could spare a few minutes.
“You gonna whip that monster cock out while we’re watching, brother?” Liam jeers in my ear as Gage hisses, “I swear to fucking Christ, if—”
Breaking our kiss, I chuckle, thumb the hammer back on my Staccato XC 9mm, and cut off their heckling. “I’m done. I’ll take care of my gorgeous wife later. We’re good.”
“ ’Bout time,” Gage grumbles. “In ten.”
My heart thuds the countdown, my brain switching from husband to marksman in a flash. My thoughts are centered on what will translate to a smooth job. If Rena wasn’t with me, I’d be nearly robotic, but her presence lends a humanness to these KORT tasks that I’m not used to. A vulnerability that’s both distracting and unhinging. It colors everything a deeper hue.
Crunch. Squeak. Blood. One wrong choice.
And the lights are out.
There is a stampede of commotion that ensues, so I crack open the door and peer at the glints of silver and gold that blur by with movement.
A manager or security employee hustles down the hall. “If everyone could just stay calm and remain where you are, we’ll have answers momentarily.”
Most of the private doors remain closed, occupied by people in the throes of intimacy, not bothering to care about a power outage. For us, that equates to a clean exit from this room to mix in with those who don’t follow orders and are determined to push through the chaos.
Grabbing Rena’s hand, I lead us into the throngs of panicky patrons and easily dip into the office corridor. When I try the knob, it wrenches downward without issue, so once I verify that it’s empty, we slip inside.
“Well, fuck, nicely done,” Liam commends.
“There’s another door to the file room, let me check this one,” I tell him, unwilling to celebrate the effortless entry yet. That knob won’t budge, so we need to remedy that swiftly. “Flick the power so I can open this, and Little Moon can lock us in.”
“Will do. Stand by,” Gage responds while Rena and I assume our positions.
The lights flicker, holding steady, and in less than three seconds, I snick the key card in and out of the reader, and we have ourselves locked inside and the file room open.
“Done,” I notify them, which prompts them to cut the power once more, draping us in darkness as commotion ensues beyond the walls.
The file room is about the size of a walk-in closet, eight foot by twelve foot. Both lengthwise walls are lined with locked filing cabinets, and the back wall has a bookshelf.
“There’s a lot of fucking ground to cover,” I hiss, shining my flashlight and pointing to the left side. “I’ll start here. You take that side, baby girl. Use your lock picking kit.”
“The downstairs clubs are a mess,” Liam chimes, “so that should buy you a little time.”
On that note, we both pick the locks on the cabinets and start rummaging through the drawers, client name after client name—several whom I’m familiar with—and their likes, dislikes, special needs, past activity, and some sort of colored-star rating. No wonder KORT wants these. This information is as valuable as the black book of indiscretions. It’s these types of secrets that are the reason the Noires are so untouchable. People will go to great lengths to cover their sexual improprieties. Own that, and you own them.
“We can’t take all of these fucking files out of here,” I mutter after several minutes of scouring, blowing through yet another drawer. “There has to be a master list.”
“Got it,” Rena huffs from the back corner near the shelving unit.
She holds it up to me, so I take it, verifying that we have what we need.
“This is it. This is what they want,” I mumble at the same time my eyes snag on two heart-palpitating concerns. “These stars, the black one … it says youth beside it. What the fuck?”
“Move out,” Gage barks. “We can study it later.”
“Hold up,” I insist because there is no need for further scrutiny. My mind has already pieced this fucking puzzle together. So, I pass the file back to Rena and turn my attention to the other enraging concern—the slight tilt to the bookshelf, like the one side isn’t flush with the wall. “There’s something behind here.”
“Fuck me, Tytan,” Liam growls. “We will send a team back in there. You have what we came for. Get the fuck out.”
Disregarding him and all the shouting over the comms that follows, I start yanking at the shelf. It’s a false door that someone shut in a hurry, but didn’t ensure it was latched. Something caught in it, which is hindering the mechanism, but I finally wrench it open, shining my light inside.
And my stomach bottoms out as Rena gasps, “Oh my God.”
Rage swarms through me as I stare at a long passageway, fringed with cells and girls inside them. Six young girls of various shapes and sizes. Healthy, but all of them frightened, hollow, and disassociated. Staring at us as if we’re here to pick them.
“Someone’s trying to get in the office,” Rena says, drawing me back to the fact that we’re on borrowed time, so I tromp to the first cell and examine the lock.
“Hey there,” I whisper to the trembling brunette. Her big brown eyes are glued to me but completely checked out, and her body is curled into a fetal ball. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m gonna take you somewhere safe.”
“Get out, Ty. We’ll come back,” Liam demands again, a touch of fear threading through his tone that only arrives when he thinks our situation is dire. Makes sense. This is the kind of intel you kill over. We’ve undoubtedly stepped on a land mine.
“I’ll personally go back in with you and pull every one of them out,” Gage tacks on. “You have my word. Let’s complete our task first, man.”
Our task. The clock is ticking for us to deliver the information. Stealing files and a rescue mission is a lot to pull off with the amount of prep we were afforded, but I can’t fucking walk out on them. I won’t. It could be too late.
My wife says that for me as she uses the butt of her pistol to bang on the lock of another cell. “Don’t waste your breath on telling him to leave them behind when we all know that’s not happening. Get a fucking route for all of us instead.”
Unfortunately, in the next singular heartbeat—similar to the one between choices made and endeavors abandoned, innocence preserved and purity stolen, exuberant life and vacant eyes—the office door bursts open, and I dash past Rena to face a security team storming toward the file room.
Five men. Angry. Armed.
Two who would dwarf Gage.
Crunch. Squeak. Blood.
No goddamn hesitation.
As Rena darts toward the threshold, I raise my pistol on them, shove her backward into the hidden cell room, and slam the shelf closed to the tune of her shrieks and pleas and the cussing rants of the men who are like brothers.
And in that follow-up heartbeat, I do what I’m trained to do, what I’m grateful to be able to do. I fight. I protect.
Aim. Shoot. Crack.
One wrong move.
I’m hit.