Page 99 of Don't Let Go

I studied McCoy’s hands, and then looked at his legs. Oh… yes, that would work. I put the pliers back and then pulled out a glass bottle from the interior of the bag.

The sudden stuttering silence amused me.

“Who wants to go first?”

Neither volunteered, but I hadn’t really expected them too. I did glove up though before I stripped their pants and planted the first bottle up McCoy’s ass. He passed out screaming. Seward actually sweated the whole time and he even threw up when I did it to him.

Not the easiest job and it definitely stank, but the whimpers of pain were worth it. That was one piece of flesh she was owed.

Now I’d take the rest.

Chapter

Thirty-Three

LOCKE

There was a party in full swing when I arrived at the Sommerland, in Washington D.C. The exclusive club required more than just a membership to enter. It required a key card, a passcode, and a pat down. They even used airport level x-ray to make sure you weren’t carrying weapons or recording equipment.

My comms were off, and I wasn’t armed. This was considered one of the most secure clubs for the elite in the district. You could buy anything and anyone. Every vice was catered too and you had to be someone if you were here.

If no one recognized you, that just added to your cachet. It wasn’t hard to affect a bored look as I went through the expected procedure. Once complete, they handed me back my card.

“Welcome Mr. Green,” the concierge said. “Is there anything you are looking for specifically this evening?”

“I haven’t decided,” I told him. “I think I’m going to get a drink and check out the entertainment.”

“Of course.” The concierge smiled. “If I can get you anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I won’t.” Then I wiped my hands on a handkerchief before I returned it to my pocket. I was already walking away from himand across the foyer into the main atrium of the club. A bar in the center offered up drinks. Women in skimpy outfits sauntered through, serving a little bit of everything vice.

While I’d half-expected to take a while to find my target, he was visible on the far side of the room in a tall-backed round booth, glaring out at the cheerful crowd as some girl worked his needle dick under the table.

Poor thing seemed to be going very fast, head bobbing, but the man’s expression didn’t change. Maybe it was just a limp dick. With that in mind, I strolled to the bar.

I recognized quite a few of the men in this room. I’d imagine the gossip columns and political reporters would pay a fortune for these tips. As it was, I went to the bar and waited for one of the beautiful women to drift over in my direction.

“What can I do for you, sir?” Not what could she get me. But what could she do for me? There really wasn’t any fun with people just offering you everything. I’d rather get it myself. She was definitelynotFallon.

“Do you know how to make a Copper Drop cocktail?” I raised my brows, inviting her to challenge herself.

“I’ve made one or two…” She tilted her hair. “Do you like creamy or just straight?”

“Creamy sounds like the right thing.” I used the bare minimum for emphasis.

“Coming right up.” She winked. The suggestiveness was all there, but I just nodded. She was definitelynotwhat I wanted.

Leaning back against the bar, I let the atmosphere wash over me. The poor girl under the table looked to be struggling briefly and the guy had his hands down there on her head.

His grimace was followed by her jerking her head away and a long trail of spittle with cum stretched from her mouth to the shadows hiding the man’s penis. Small mercies.

I glanced to the bartender as she slid the cocktail across the bar to me along with a napkin and her phone number. “The drink is all I need,” I assured her as I pushed the napkin back.

Sampling a mouthful, I nodded. It tasted correct. Drink in hand, I left the bar and made my way across the room. Letting my gaze drift from person to person as though I wanted to find something to entertain myself.

I nodded once or twice, always when I wasn’t locking eyes with someone. Act like you belonged and they would treat you that way. An older gentleman reached out a hand to stop me. His crown of snow white hair added to his very flushed appearance.

“Carter?” The man squinted at me. He smelled like he’d taken a bath in his Scotch.

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