Chapter Twenty-Four
Days had passed since Play Night, and Nolan still floated on cloud nine. The scene with James had been perfection and had illustrated how amazing they could be together. Whether he was co-topping with the man or submitting to him, he loved everything about their blossoming relationship.
However, Ken’s threats concerned him.
James had filled him in, and the worries cycled through his mind.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
He sat at his desk at work, staring at the screen. What if James was forced out of his job? Forced out of San Francisco? His stomach churned. He lived here, where his house, work, and friends were. The idea of uprooting made him nauseous, but so did the idea of losing James.
“So, when are you and James going to co-top me?” Sloan asked from his desk. “The two of you are seriously hot together.”
“Hopefully sometime soon,” Nolan said. “You need to get filled up again?”
“Ngh,” Sloan moaned out. “Now I’m imagining it, and I don’t know how you expect me to focus on work.”
“I believe in you,” Nolan said dryly.
“Noles,” Meg said, strolling in through the doorway. Fin trailed right behind her. “What’re the numbers looking like for the event next week?”
Nolan stretched back. That was the only thing that seemed to be going right.
The addition of games to their newbie event drew in a whole new slew of interest, and the ticket purchases had picked up far faster than the trickle they’d been.
“Solid. Like…more than newbie event numbers and more than our open house too.”
“Tell them about the messages,” Fin said, crossing their arms.
“Just our website bombarded with emails complaining about Whipped, threatening to get us shut down,” Meg said, a frown creasing her brow.
Nolan’s stomach churned. He’d seen them too, since he had access to the store account. This amount of vitriol and issues on a regular basis made him want to keep Tums on standby. “Want me to have James look over the senders? See if it’s the same fuckface that’s threatening him?”
Meg heaved a sigh. “He shouldn’t have gotten dragged into this mess. This is our problem to handle.”
Nolan didn’t disagree—he hated how on edge James was—but knew the guy wasn’t comfortable sitting idly by.
“What if you sent me as subterfuge,” Fin said. “I can go undercover to their shitty event and expose all the stuff that happens.”
Meg fixed them with a look. “First off, I’m not risking you at one of those events. You’re smart, but Carter’s well aware of my employees, and based on the old identities of this guy and the scenes he left behind, his events are far from safe.”
“See how safe he feels with a sharpened spike up his cock,” Fin said cheerily.
Nolan chewed his lower lip. He pulled up James’s email from last week with the information he’d collated on Carter and the other identities in different areas.
Carter had left a trail of more than a few folks with serious grievances—fucking crimes, honestly.
There had to be something they could do with that.
“As much as I appreciate your dedication, we need to find a way to handle him that doesn’t draw attention to Whipped,” Meg said.
“Feuds between different kink scenes can get messy, and most of the time, people dismiss the issues as petty squabbles instead of taking them seriously. And this guy needs to be taken seriously.”
“You lost me at not drawing attention,” Fin said, sticking out their tongue.
“What are you even still doing here?” Sloan asked. “I thought you were done working for the day.”
“Waiting for Ollie,” Fin said. “We’re grabbing dinner up the street. His shift ends soon, so he’s just meeting me here. Cal and Jules have been asking him more and more questions about kink ever since you guys set up the event, and he’s hating every second of the inquisition. It’s hilarious.”
“You’re a monster,” Sloan said, shaking his head.
“I offered to give a demonstration, since Cal and Jules were so curious, and Ollie looked like he was going to melt into the floor.”
“At least you didn’t tell them the watermelon story,” Nolan said, shaking his head.
“That was saved for the first Hale family dinner I got invited to,” Fin said. “I’m shocked they let me come back.”
“Hey, Meg?” Micah raced up, breathless. His wide eyes made everyone sit up, alert. “Is there a reason why the fire inspector is here?”
Meg’s brows drew together, and she started walking toward the door.
Nolan rose out of his seat, his heart pounding.
Most of the time with the annual inspections, they were given a date range to be on the lookout for, but there was no reason for a fire inspection now—not when they’d had one just a few months ago.
The company had been in operation for awhile, and they’d passed with flying colors.
He didn’t want to point fingers, but given the rising number of issues Carter caused for them, he had the feeling only one person could be behind this. But why call the inspectors on them?
He stepped into Whipped’s main area, where the fire inspector ran through the check.
The tables were full, as it was one of the busier times of day, and Micah all but launched himself back behind the bar to help the next customers with their orders, even though he was clearly distracted.
Nolan stepped forward then backward, forward then backward, forward then backward before following Meg to where the fire inspector was going over their exit signage.
Nolan tried not to hover, since Meg needed space to talk with the guy, but her brows seemed permanently knitted together, a line firmly set on her forehead.
“And what’s the problem?” Meg said, her voice terser than normal.
“The EXIT sign isn’t working,” the guy said with a shrug. “I was given a warning that Whipped was in violation of several fire codes, and the wire for the sign is broken, which is a clear violation. I’m afraid this has to go on record.”
Meg pressed her lips tightly together, likely holding back a swear. “What are the repercussions? We’ve never had a violation before.”
“As long as you get the sign working again and pay the fine, we’ll be all good,” he said, clasping the back of his neck. “I’d just make sure to pay the fine, as if you don’t, that can spiral into something bigger.”
Meg nodded, but fury blazed in her eyes.
Nolan felt sick. Ken was threatening James, and Carter was escalating from online attacks to in person attacks.
Someone had come into Whipped and cut the cord for their EXIT sign.
It must’ve been when they were too busy to notice a random customer tinkering in the corner.
The sense of violation rippled through him.
Fuck, how had they missed it happening? He’d been so used to Whipped as a safe and comfortable place that he couldn’t have fathomed someone sabotaging them like this.
“I need to check the basement next,” the fire inspector said.
Meg gave a grim nod and led the way down the steps.
Shit, was anything out that needed to be put away?
They kept the dungeon in good shape, but when inspectors were going to be showing up, they usually tried to store implements out of sight and obscure furniture as much as possible rather than clearly displaying it.
Sweat prickled on Nolan’s forehead. First, they were trying to run James out of town, now this.
“Is this shithead’s doing?” Micah whisper-hissed over to him.
Nolan walked over, close enough for them to talk quietly. “Yeah, couldn’t be anyone else.”
“Fuck,” Micah swore. His eyes blazed, but something a little fragile was there too. “He’s not going to bring down this place.”
Nolan shook his head, though his mind whirled with problems. Death by a thousand cuts.
He’d seen scenes in San Francisco fall for less.
When people no longer trusted you, when enough problems and murkiness surrounded your scene, it didn’t have to blow up in an explosive way.
No, it could just taper like a faucet shutting off, until the drip, drip, drip was no longer sustainable.
Reputation was everything, and Carter had a history of wrecking others’ while somehow reinventing himself over and over.
Fucking loathsome.
“Let me go fill in Fin and Sloan,” Nolan muttered, goose bumps pebbling his skin. He grabbed a napkin from one of the holders, needing to clean around his desk. The stress worsened his OCD, and though he had a gorgeous guy to return home to who accepted him…what if James got run out of town?
Acid churned in his gut as he headed back to the office.
He barely entered through the doorway when Fin shot up from their lean.
“What’s going on?” they asked.
“He tampered with the EXIT sign so we wouldn’t pass inspection,” Nolan muttered, spearing fingers through his hair.
He strode over to his desk and straightened the pen holders, the stacks of folders, and then he started to clean beneath them with the napkin, getting out the residual layer of dust that had settled in the past two hours of his last clean through.
His hands moved automatically as Fin let out a string of filthy curses behind him.
Sloan rose from his desk and stood next to him. “What can we do about this fucker?”
“It’s not just Carter but Ken too,” Nolan said, chewing on his lower lip so much he tasted copper. “But if we make any blatant moves, they might decide to throw James under the bus. Ken dug up shit from his old hacker days and is lording it over him.”
“So our hands are tied?” Fin stomped behind him. “We can’t sit here and let him walk all over us.”
He focused on wiping down his computer, cleaning each individual key. He whipped out the can of compressed air he kept by his desk, and the tss, tss, tss soothed his nerves even while his mind whirred.
“Did Ken come into the picture with Carter?” Sloan asked. “Or has he been around for longer?”
“New too,” Nolan said. “He started at Parker’s work a little before James did.”
“You think focus on him?” Fin’s voice sharpened.
Nolan’s heart thudded. Honestly, he had no answers, only panic and fear. He couldn’t lose James now, not when they were finally coming together.
“If Ken was involved in Carter’s old scene, guaranteed someone has to have dirt on him too,” Sloan mused.
“Except if we’re the ones putting out the dirt, that’s where the problem arises,” Nolan said, frustration burning strong in him. He tossed the napkin into the trash and plunked into his seat. The screen glared at him.
He had the email James had sent him with the information on Carter’s old personas and a few articles on the wreckage of former scenes. He clicked on one of the links and skimmed it.
His gaze snagged on a few names listed.
“Let me try a shot in the dark,” he said, hunching forward. He searched on socials and pinpointed a few folks, so he sent them DMs.
A few quick lines that hopefully wouldn’t get ignored.
It might not be enough, but he had to try.
He couldn’t lose Whipped.
He also couldn’t lose James.