Chapter 11 #3
“That woman with the stitched eyes bothered you? I swear she gets small thread, and agrees to it.”
“Huh.” What else could I add. I hated doubting him, but maybe he was being lied to?
Maybe he had been fed a whole ocean of lies.
A little uncertainty finally showed in the lines on his forehead and in the way his hand wrapped over the edge of the desk. “I thought you wanted in? If not, then yes, we may as well leave.”
“Good. You, too? Are you sure?” I needed to hear him agree. Our friendship seemed built on swampland, and I’d always thought it was bedrock, that we would have each other’s backs even if Ragnarok arrived.
“If you’re going—”
I slammed shut the book. “Me and Emme and you in a chopper, out of here ASAP. If you want to stay, then stay, but when they get raided, I want to be elsewhere.”
“This won’t get raided. They’ve bought off everyone who matters, and if necessary, will do it all again without breathing hard.”
“You’re a member of this CNC Fraternity?”
“I’ve been once only, before this. I do know it would be dangerous to let word of this get out.” He shrugged and stood. “I was going to quiz you, but if we’re leaving, there is no reason to. Remember to keep this private. No one needs this to be publicized.”
“Sure.”
Every time he spoke of keeping silent for these rich friends, it drove home that this was probably not legal, not fully consensual, and if any of that shit upstairs was a crime, and these men thought I had been a whistle-blower, I’d be dead.
The forgive and forget saying had never looked so attractive.
We stepped out into the hallway.
The next second, I wanted to kill someone—Wolfman.
He was laughing at Emme, who sat on her knees, struggling. She was locked into one of those sticks with a loop used to catch wild dogs. Her mitten-clad hands were up at her throat, and I was in no doubt he was choking her, some, if not a lot.
Though the ma?tre d’, opposite, was scowling at the scenario and arguing, none of it was stopping this asshole.
I covered the width of the hallway in three strides.
With my fist winding back to pummel the back of his head, I was brought to a crashing slide by Axl grabbing my arm and whipping me downward.
Unbalanced, I thumped to the floor but threw my leg out and caught Wolfman in the shins.
Not the best or brightest move, but while he was crying out and staggering, I was hauling myself upright.
I glared at Axl. “Don’t interfere.”
“You can’t do this!”
“I can. Is a bitch-slap better?” Wolfman, recovering, grinned and backed away. Luckily, he’d dropped the stick choking out Emme.
She slid backward away from the brawl. I advanced.
Axl ran between us and threw out a hand to each of us. “Stop!”
It halted Wolfman in his furry tracks, but the man glowered. From his balled-up fists he’d been thinking of throwing a punch.
Me…I was winding down. Fighting one of the patrons was a loser strategy.
“Keep your fucking hands off her. What the fuck was this?” I tossed a head-jerk at the gear Emme had stripped from her throat. Then I hooked the stick with my shoe, hoisted and kicked it onto the far wall. It hit with a clatter and fell onto a sofa.
“It’s a hunting game we play. We let the ladies loose in the yard, chase them down, fuck a few of them.
It starts soon. You should come, too.” He tossed a loop of hair off his face, tucked it back.
His words were flippant. The dark stillness on his face, though, his stare, that was a threat, an invitation, or maybe a dare.
“You are disobeying the rules,” Axl pointed out, calmly. My estimation of him rose. “Don’t play with another man’s toy without permission.”
“And I apologize.” He did a mock bow. “Sirs.”
After a moment of fuming, I turned and helped Emme to her feet. “Bye, asshole.”
The chopper lurked, still and shadowed past the tennis courts, waiting for us. Only dim lighting in the cockpit betrayed the presence of the pilot.
The golfcart bumped along. Questions ran amok in my mind.
I had always thought myself a dark horse and a badass despite my geeky career.
Tonight had held that na?ve me up beside those guests and what they did. My badass side had been shown to be a cardboard cut-out.
Did it matter? I had no wish to copy them.
I had no craving to do worse to Emme. To stitch her eyes shut, to strangle her until her tongue turned blue, to hurt her until she screamed as some woman had from the top story while we walked calmly down the stairs. Or to hang her from the rafters by her breasts while I whipped and fucked her? No.
Wait… That one was a possible on my list. Not to do permanent damage to her but the mindfuck and the sex would be awesome.
I sighed, rubbed my jaw. The stubble reminded me of the need to shower when we arrived home.
Just one problem remained.
I had my arm around her shoulders, keeping her from swaying too far and falling out the open side of the cart. The bit gag had been removed but she wore the goggles, and still she said nothing.
The one problem was me.
I lifted my gaze from her and checked out Axl.
Make that, two problems.