Chapter 10
A tired neon sign buzzed overhead. Leland gave it a cursory glance and grunted. “Driftwood?”
Alec didn’t break stride. “A little on the nose.”
“Tacky.”
“I doubt it gets better inside,” Alec muttered, hand on the door. “Let’s get this over with.”
Inside, Leland grimaced as he took in the room with a single sweep. The place was clearly trying to sell an experience. It had better lighting than most public clubs. Beach-chic décor. Attractive people dressed to be seen could very well convince newcomers they were somewhere sophisticated.
It took him less than ten seconds to spot the problem. Too many people, not enough oversight. Sightlines were poor. Scenes bled into each other. He didn’t see anyone actively monitoring the floor.
The place looked polished. The safety measures weren’t.
A man in a black T-shirt with Driftwood Staff stamped on the chest stepped forward, holding out a lockbox.
“Phones.”
Leland didn’t move. “This is business.”
“Club policy,” the man added.
Leland slowly met his gaze, staring down at least half a foot to do it. The man hesitated, clearly uncertain.
“Where’s your manager?” Alec asked.
“Pete’s the owner.” He jerked his chin toward the bar. “The one with the tie.”
Leland headed that way with Alec beside him. Neither surrendered their phones.
The owner met them halfway across the room, already sweating.
“I don’t know what this is about,” he said before either of them spoke, “but if it’s licensing, everything’s current—”
“Relax,” Alec said easily. “We’re not here to shut you down.”
The man didn’t look convinced. “What do you want?”
“We’re investigators. One of your members is missing.”
The owner’s expression shifted—subtle, but there.
“I don’t know anything about that.”
“We didn’t say you did,” Alec replied.
Leland stepped in. “We need your sign-in logs. And your surveillance.”
“I can’t do that. My customers expect confidentiality.”
Alec glanced around the room. “How many customers will you have left when they hear women who play here are turning up missing?”
Pete’s face paled slightly.
“Want me to ask?” Leland offered. “I can take a quick poll.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Try me.”
“Capacity sign out front says sixty,” Alec said casually. “You’ve got at least twice that, which is a fire code violation.”
The owner stiffened. “That’s—”
“A problem,” Alec finished.
Leland pulled out his phone. “Let’s see what the fire marshal thinks.”
“Now, he’ll shut you down,” Alec warned. “Weeks. Longer, if you can’t cover the fines.”
The owner swallowed hard.
“What’s the going rate, Leland?”
“They charge per violation.” He glanced around and whistled softly. “This is gonna hurt.”
“If it’s a problem at one club, they’ll assume it’s a pattern,” Alec added conversationally. “Could mean visits to all three.”
Sweating now and likely imagining lost revenue in the tens of thousands, Pete finally broke.
“All right, all right,” he blurted. “I’ll get you what you need.”
“Security footage,” Leland said. “As far back as you’ve got.”
“It automatically purges after six months. That’s a lot of data.”
“You’ve got a system,” Alec cut in. “Use it.” He handed over a card. “Upload everything to this portal by start of business tomorrow. Login and password are listed.”
“That’s not enough time,” Pete complained.
Leland started dialing again.
“Stop! Jesus—I’ll get it done.” Pete raised both hands. “Just don’t call anyone.”
“Smart choice,” Alec said.
Pete dragged a hand over his face. “I’ll have to call my IT guy and start the transfer manually.”
“That sounds like a you problem,” Alec replied.
Pete muttered indistinctly and disappeared through the staff-only door.
Alec propped one elbow against the bar and surveyed the room. “Pretty package,” he muttered.
Leland’s gaze swept the scene area. The crowd packed around two centrally placed benches so tightly that the participants barely had space to breathe.
“That’s all it has going for it. One careless backswing with a paddle and someone loses a tooth. There’s no floor control,” he said in disgust. “No dungeon monitors in sight. If somebody uses a safeword in here, half the room probably wouldn’t notice.”
A bartender approached cautiously. “Are you guys cops?”
“Investigators,” Alec corrected and slid a business card across the bar.
The bartender picked it up. “Devlin and Associates? Aren’t you the guys who brought down that international sex trafficker a few months ago?”
“We’re investigating closer to home tonight,” Leland said, neither confirming nor denying.
He glanced toward the hallway where Pete had vanished then lowered his voice. “Are you looking into Anna?”
Leland’s attention sharpened instantly. “You know her?”
“Not really. Sweet girl, though.” He dried his hands on a towel. “Kept mostly to herself.”
“Did anyone here spend time with her?” Alec asked.
His hesitation was telling.
Leland rested a forearm on the bar top and leaned in. “If you’ve got something to say, say it,” he barked.
The bartender backed up a half step, asking Alec, “Is he always this way?”
“No. You got him on one of his mellow days.”
He swallowed, the gulp audible even with the noise level in the club. “There was a guy. A regular. Older. Not intense so much as… wrong.”
Alec’s attention sharpened. “Define wrong.”
The bartender rubbed his palms on his jeans, uneasy.
“He watched. Not like the curious newbies or the voyeurs. He’d fixate on someone.
Like he was studying where they’d break.
” He glanced toward the far end of the bar, as if expecting to see the man there.
“Some doms complained. Said his stare felt like he was taking the room apart piece by piece. Pete didn’t do anything because he never did anything—that we know of. ”
Leland turned to face the room. “Is he here tonight?”
“I saw him come in about an hour ago.”
“Describe him.”
“Late fifties. Tall. Gray at the temples. Usually alone unless he’s playing, which isn’t often. Most nights he sits there with that look.” Another swallow. “He likes the ones who are still figuring themselves out. The ones who don’t know the rules yet.”
“Name.”
“Edward Mercer.”
Alec and Leland exchanged a glance.
“Where is he?” Alec asked.
The bartender tipped his chin toward the upper mezzanine. “He takes a seat by the railing.”
“Any subs ever file complaints?” Leland asked.
“Not officially.”
Meaning yes.
“I’ve got him tonight.” A waitress only a few feet away was waiting for the bartender to fill an order. She shuddered as she continued, “He gives me the creeps.”
Interesting.
Alec caught it too. “Why?”
She hesitated. “His eyes are black. Soulless, if you know what I mean.”
“You watch too many horror movies, Nola,” the bartender scoffed.
“No, Jake. I’m careful. I don’t want investigators asking questions about me one day.”
Leland looked toward the mezzanine. Predators often hunted where vulnerability gathered naturally. And places like this, where anyone could play for a price, with lax security, practically advertised it.
“Let’s go talk to Eddie,” Alec said quietly.
The upstairs lounge overlooked the main floor through smoked glass panels. Quieter. More exclusive. The crowd up here skewed older, better dressed, trading the chaos below for leather seating, expensive bourbon, and a better view of the room.
A man fitting the bartender’s description sat near the far wall with a highball glass in one hand. He wasn’t watching the floor; he was watching them as they approached.
His gaze landed on Leland first.
Assessment recognized assessment.
“Edward Mercer?” Alec asked.
“What can I do for you gentlemen?”
Alec pulled out photos of Anna Bellamy and Mara Andrews. “Recognize them?”
Mercer studied the images calmly. “I’ve seen the little blonde here, but not in a while,” he said after a moment.
“Anna?” Alec asked.
“Never caught her name. Then again, I never asked.”
Leland observed him closely. Everything about him was controlled, from the measured cadence of his breathing to his unnaturally still posture, without a hint of emotion save for the almost-imperceptible smug curve of his lips.
Even before seeing his eyes—which were black like Nola described—he understood what she meant by soulless.
“Word is you spend a lot of time with new submissives,” Alec said.
Mercer didn’t move with his response. “I train occasionally.”
“People describe it differently.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” He sipped his bourbon. “Disappointed people often rewrite experiences afterward.”
Contempt coiled through Leland, but his voice stayed even. “You like inexperience,” he said. “Any reason?”
“I like honesty,” Mercer replied smoothly. “New submissives have less performance attached to them.”
Alec folded his arms. “That doesn’t apply to you, though, does it? You like to intimidate, maybe make them afraid.”
Mercer’s black eyes twinkled in the overhead lights as he responded to Alec’s challenge. “Fear and trust aren’t mutually exclusive.”
“Cute answer,” Alec said. “Wrong audience.”
A cold glint flashed briefly in Mercer’s eyes before vanishing again.
“Three women are missing,” Leland said quietly. “Another is confirmed dead. You understand why we’re talking to you?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you lived in Miami?” Alec asked.
“About a year.”
“Where before that?”
“Chicago.”
“You travel much?”
“All the time, lately.”
Mercer could overlap with Anna Bellamy. But not the earlier disappearances. He was a creep, a possible emotional predator, and he’d definitely follow up, but he didn’t fit cleanly. Alec’s expression showed he’d reached the same conclusion.
Mercer stiffened slightly. “Am I a suspect?”
“Should you be?” Alec challenged.
“No. You’re looking in the wrong direction.”
“Maybe,” Leland said. “But we’ll decide that.”
By the time they returned downstairs, Pete was back, pale and irritated from whatever conversation he’d had with his security contractor.
“This is going to cost me, but the footage will be uploaded by nine tomorrow morning,” Pete said tightly.
“Money well spent for the safety of your patrons is what you meant to say. Right?” Alec replied.
Pete became immediately defensive. “Look. I’m cooperating. And no matter what you think, I care about what happens here.”
Leland glanced toward the crowded floor. “If you want this place to be more than a hunting ground for creeps, a word of advice. Get rid of your bouncers and hire actual dungeon monitors.”
Pete blinked. “You think that’d help?”
“It’d help the submissives,” Leland said. “Which is usually good for business.”
Alec nodded. “Right now, your setup relies on people speaking up after something goes wrong.”
“That’s too little, too late,” Leland added.
Pete’s expression tightened, as if he already knew that. “You guys know about this stuff. Would you be willing to consult? On the monitors and the security?”
Leland shook his head. “We’re tied up with a case.”
Alec’s tone stayed matter-of-fact. “You couldn’t afford us anyway. But I know someone solid. I’ll have them call you.”
Pete exhaled. “That would be great. Thanks.”
They left without another word.
Outside, the late afternoon heat had him sweating before they reached the car. When he looked over at Alec, he was grinning.
“What’s funny? Is this about the guy you know?” Leland asked.
“I said nothing about a guy.”
“Did I just hallucinate that?” Leland asked after they got in, and he had fired up the engine and switched the AC on max.
“Remember the new member who Dev gave the boot to a few months back?”
“The one who was only interested in snooping?”
Alec nodded.
“Mistress Pauline is the guy you know?” he asked, stifling a laugh.
“Yep. She wanted to build her own Devil’s Pointe. Maybe she can settle for The Underground.”
“Why are you throwing her a bone?”
“She wasn’t all bad. Dev would have let her sniff around if she’d been honest. Pauline only assumed he wouldn’t. But I did her security check. She was clean, and all her references said that as a dominant, she knew what she was doing.”
“Doesn’t mean she knows about security.”
“Pete can buy that. It’s the other expertise he needs. If Pauline makes the Miami public circuit safer, all the better.” Alec grinned again.
“What?”
“I’m imagining Mistress Pauline whipping old, sweaty Pete into shape.”
Leland shook his head. “Sure you’re not a sadist? You enjoyed all of this a little too much.”
He smirked. “What about you offering to poll the audience?”
“That worked, but threatening the fire marshal was inspired.”
They looked at each other over the console of the SUV and burst into laughter. Turning the screws was a perk of the job.
Leland made a left out of the lot and merged into traffic, heading toward HQ. They rode in silence for a few miles.
“So, Edward Mercer…”
Leland’s amusement faded. “What about him?”
“You like him for this?”
He braked for a red light before he answered. “No.”
Alec paused. “You sound sure.”
“He enjoys terrorizing the masses from the mezzanine a bit too much.”
“And the real guy?”
Leland’s grip on the wheel tightened. “He feels quieter. Likes to operate under the radar. But we’ll find him.”
“Yeah. Hopefully, before he goes hunting again.”