Page 89 of Prohibited

They followed the drive all the way around the back of the house, where there was abundant space to accommodate vehicles, as well as a stable to accommodate those arriving by carriage and horse. Another man in a uniform identical to the one at the gate saw them out of their vehicle and to the back door of the house, where they were escorted into the house and met with a very pretty, voluptuous woman in a parlor.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” the woman said. Perhaps Alex was imagining it, but he thought she did a double take. What that meant, he didn’t know. Perhaps she was overcome by Ryan’s brilliant baby blues. Or perhaps something unsavory was afoot. He narrowed his eyes at her.

The woman waved her elegant hands through the air with a practiced, graceful motion. “Welcome to this humble home. How can we be of service today?”

“Lola has made arrangements with us to meet with a colleague of hers this afternoon,” Alex said, coldly.

“Oh, yes,” the woman nodded. “Mr. Page has arrived and is waiting in a private room to meet with you. Boris will show you the way.”

The woman made a sweeping gesture toward a tall, heavy-featured youth who was waiting in front of the closed double doors behind the woman, flanked by two other young men. Those two reached forward, each pulling one of the doors open and stepping back, revealing a long hallway that was richly carpeted in a deep plushwine, with gold and red wallpaper lining the corridor, all the way down to another set of double doors.

When they entered the corridor, the doors closed behind them. The sound felt ominous to Alex, though he couldn’t say why. With his wrist, he brushed the Smith & Wesson revolver he always kept on his hip and reassured himself that no matter what, he was prepared to deal with it in one way or another. Beyond, he thought he could faintly hear music.

Boris opened the double doors at the end of the corridor, which let them into a bright, beautifully marbled foyer. A trio of women were playing instruments against the sweeping staircase that went up and up and up. They wore costumes, medieval Victorian creations that fell off of their shoulders and draped across the floor. Indeed, the pianist had one pert pink nipple on display, as the neckline of the evanescent gown couldn’t be persuaded to remain on her shoulder. The hair on each of the women was unbound and they all wore flower crowns.

A pretty picture, certainly. Ryan’s eyes lingered on each of them, appreciating their talent and their grace in his easy, uncomplicated way.

So very charming, as always.

“This way, if you please,” Boris said. An accent that didn’t belong to Oklahoma. Perhaps New England. Boston, maybe. Boris from Boston.

He led them up the grand staircase, which afforded them a view of the hall they were in. The house was grander than his, which was a considerable claim. Thechandelier alone was twice the size of his and likely had twice as many delicately cut crystals.

Boris led them down a long corridor with many doors that were all closed. He paused outside of a door that had an elegant plaque on the door that read, “The Grecian Room.”

“Here you are.” Boris gestured to the door and then bowed.

Alex looked at the youth closely, but he betrayed nothing as he gestured them toward the door. Slowly, Alex opened the door. Lola was standing near the fireplace mantel with a man wearing a charcoal suit and a fedora, with his back to them.

Something eased up inside of Alex at the sight of Lola and he let go of the breath he’d been holding. He opened the door all of the way and stepped into the room, Ryan behind him.

Lola and the gentleman she was talking to turned toward them suddenly.

It all happened so fast, but Alex registered the look on Lola’s face first: guilt and then resolution.

He didn’t even get the word fuck out of his mouth before the man with her had a revolver pointed at them and three men stepped out from behind the long, velvet curtains draped at the window.

“Hands up!” the man in the charcoal suit shouted.

Reluctantly, Alex put his hands up while he gritted his teeth so hard it was a wonder they didn’t shatter inhis mouth.

Slowly, he turned his head and looked at Ryan with a glare that should have melted the flesh from his face.

“Don’t say it,” Ryan said under his breath.

“Shut up,” the man in the charcoal suit said. “No talking.”

Rough hands seized them both, twisting their arms behind their backs as handcuffs were slapped on their wrists so hard that Alex nearly yelped.

“I told you so,” Alex muttered out of the corner of his mouth, which earned him a sharp kick to the back of the knee.

This was so much worse than he had imagined.

Chapter thirty-one

Evie

Evie laid her cards down on the quilt and smiled. “Full house.”

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