6. Aiden
Aiden
We travel down the dark driveway in silence. The iron fence blends in so well with the trees around the complex it’s almost unnoticeable, the entire place hidden deep within the grove.
The fence is wired. Anyone dumb enough to touch it will get one hell of a shock. It’s not just there to keep people from getting in, it’s there to make sure only the right ones get out.
It’s a thought I’d rather not dwell on. Leads me somewhere I can’t afford to go at the moment. It means there are people being held here against their will. Not people, but women—women who never chose this, never signed up for whatever perverse work Trent has them doing.
I wish I could do something about it now, but I can’t.
One day soon, though, this place will shut down, and those running it, along with those who pay to keep it alive, will answer for what they’ve done.
My guys know about the fence. Lane’s the only one planning to breach it, and he knows what to do to get through without setting it off or drawing attention.
The cameras are the biggest issue. They cover the driveway and the front of each building. Trent’s too smart to go without them. He understands he can use the footage against those who might decide to cross him. You don’t enter or leave the main areas undetected.
We’ve got that handled. With a top-notch hacker camped out in the trees, I know he’s hard at solving the problem to ensure Lane gets in and out undetected.
Cameras are banned inside all buildings. Not restricted—banned. No exceptions. Anyone caught using them doesn’t just get punished, they’re made an example of.
I’ve seen enough since working for the Doyles to know it’s not just a slap on the wrist. Men have lost body parts over it.
The punishment is carried out in front of others, a clear message of what happens when you dare to cross Trent. Seeing it once is an excellent deterrent to knowing how serious the captain is about the rules.
His rules are simple. No cameras. Keep what happens here to yourself. Playtime is only for those who pay their dues on time. No guests. Ever.
This is a members-only club. Guests bring complications that put everyone at risk of getting caught with their trousers down. Literally.
Silas’s phone buzzes in his lap. He glances down, thumbs moving as he types, then smirks. “Daddy isn’t happy to see me with you. Wants to know how that happened when he made it clear I was to stay out of it.”
My grip on the steering wheel goes tight enough to hurt. “Tell him you got bored. Ambushed me. Saved me the trouble of tracking you down and gave you the chance to visit your new best friend.”
He drops the phone into his shirt pocket, his other hand strangling the butt of his gun. “That’s exactly what I told him. Figured he’d appreciate me saving you precious time chasing down a traitor.”
Cort butts in. “I’m not a traitor.”
Silas turns his head just enough to look at him, unimpressed. “Are you sure about that? I’m not. Guess will find out soon enough.”
I park my Jag out front, angling it so no one can block me in. You never know when you might need to make a quick getaway. And if I get word about Isabel, I don’t care what I’m in the middle of… I’m leaving. Going straight to her.
And when I find the person who took her, I won’t stop at just killing him.
As I climb out, I take in my surroundings. The warm air carries a strange tension, something almost electric that puts me on edge.
A lone gardener shapes the lush green bushes that border the main house with practiced ease. It doesn’t take me long to recognize him.
I fight back a chuckle. Lane.
No clue how the hell he pulled it off, but know I’ll hear about it later.
There are three houses in the complex and several pools for the members to use, along with tennis courts and, of course, the stables where the horses are kept.
The main one is massive. It’s where most members go when they come for a visit. The ground floor is designed for socializing with common rooms. Silas comes here for the thrill of high-stakes poker games and the women.
The most disturbing activities occur on the lower and upper levels. Members go there to do things I don’t enjoy thinking about, while others watch.
The other two houses are private. One is Trent’s—off limits to everyone. The other belongs to Silas. When he’s not using it, members can rent it out.
How do I know this? Silas has a big mouth. He talks. And while others aren’t allowed to talk about the shit that goes on down here, the rules are different for the warlord. He makes his own rules. Those in charge always do.
Behind me, another door opens. I turn to see Silas encouraging Cort out of the backseat by pointing his gun at his head when he doesn’t move fast enough.
Slamming my door, I send them both a warning. “You shoot him in my car, and you’ll buy me a new one. And Cort, if he doesn’t kill you, I will. Get the fuck out of my car.”
Now that he’s out and being shoved along, the three of us make our way toward the main door.
A few cars sit in the designated spots for members, nothing out of the ordinary at first glance. Midday does that, making it look almost normal. By nightfall, this place will be crawling with men looking to get away with shit they can’t do out in the open.
When Cort stumbles up the steps leading to the concrete porch, I take pity on him and help him up. “Stop being a dickhead, Silas. You’ve made your point. He gets it. He fucked up. The only way to make this right is to come clean with Trent. Which he’ll do, right?”
Cort nods but says nothing.
“Right. Let’s not make him piss himself again just yet. Trent will do a fine job of that soon enough.”
The moment our feet hit the gray marble of the foyer, Trent is there to greet us, his unfriendly gaze cutting through us like a knife.
“Explain.”
In one fluid motion, I pull the bag from my shoulder and offer it to him.
“Here’s what you asked me to bring from Rico’s.
Silas got bored and showed up at the penthouse.
That’s when we learned Mr. Theiss lied to us.
Figured I’d let him deal with him while I finished up.
Then he showed up at my house, said I needed to hear what our friend had to say. ”
I glance toward Cort. “Thought you’d like to hear it too.”
Trent remains where he is, his eyes lock on mine, like he’s daring me to break.
Jokes on him.
I’ve played this game before. I don’t give in. Don’t show fear. Not even when some shithead presses a car lighter against my skin and the stink of burning flesh penetrates the air.
At fifteen, I wasn’t as good at this game. I am now.
When his attempts at goading me fall flat, he sighs and shifts his focus to his son, a new strategy flickering in his eyes.
“Did you get it done?” Taking the bag from me, he drops it to his side. “And your answer had better be yes.”
Silas shoves his hands into his pockets and tilts his head back. “It’s done. Everything is set and ready.”
“Good.” He turns his back without waiting to see if we follow. “My office. You two can help me clean up the mess I was called here to sort out.”
With a burst of energy, Silas jumps on that. “What kind of problem?”
I motion for Cort to go first, then follow in behind him, taking up the rear so I have eyes on my surroundings.
The decor doesn’t surprise me. It’s excessive, polished to perfection. Meant to impress. I’ve never been inside a brothel, but I doubt most are this nice.
One-hundred-fifty grand a year buys a lot of illusions.
Makes me wonder if that helps the members with the guilt they should feel taking advantage of the women here. I doubt it, though. They aren’t the guilt-prone type. They lost that skill ages ago and now feel entitled to this.
Cunts.
On our way to Trent’s office, we pass through a room where three men sit at a table, deep in a poker game. Each one has a beautiful woman on his lap. The ladies are dressed in cocktail dresses that barely cover them.
At first glance, they don’t appear unhappy to be here.
That illusion doesn’t last.
The more I study them, the more I see what others choose to ignore. One girl has a faded bruise on her wrist, half hidden beneath a bracelet doing a piss-poor job of covering it. Another glances up for the briefest second. Her smile is there, but it’s empty. Dead behind the eyes.
The last one, though…
I do a double take. My chest tightens, something sharp cutting through me before I can stop it.
For a split second, I think it’s Isabel.
It’s not.
The resemblance hits too close. Same long, dark hair falls down her back.
Same build. And damn near close to the same age.
She doesn’t look as young as the others, in her mid-to late twenties.
The other two… I don’t even want to think about it.
Hard to tell under all that makeup. Not that anyone here gives a damn.
All they care about is that each one is here and available.
If I give it too much thought, I’ll pull out my gun and shoot the two bastards holding them like they own them.
According to Silas, the women are only here for short stints to keep things fresh. The favorites stay longer. Members often pay more to keep them around. Sometimes there are even auctions. The highest bidder gets first dibs, exclusive access for however long they’re willing to pay for.
My stomach turns.
Did the arsehole gripping her so tight pay extra for her time?
She’s beautiful. It makes me sick to think that these pricks are who she’s forced to spend her days with. She deserves so much more.
That thought drags me back to Isabel.
Are those fuckers treating her the same way? I swear, if they so much as lay a hand on her, I’ll kill them. Slowly. Painfully. Chop off body parts and watch them bleed out.
“You planning to join us, Aiden? Or would you rather try your luck winning Merial from Granger? I bet he’d play a round, but it’ll cost you ten monkeys just to start the bidding.”
The grating sound of his voice pulls my attention back to where it should be.