Page 13 of The Cartographer

“Yes.” I roll my eyes as I run a hand through my hair and try to make it look artfully mussed. Lucky for me, it cooperates and I don’t have to take the time to stop in my bathroom for gel. Although, at the rate we’re going, I could stop by Phillipe’s and get a trim. I should have Matthew schedule that. “I’m absolutely desperate for you. Now tell me where you are so I can suck your brains out through your cock.”

Perhaps my rather vivid image has shocked him or maybe he’s passed out because he’s silent and I have to swallow the agitated words rising in my throat.Dammit, Allie, tell me where the fuck you are so I can get down there and drag you out by your ear.

“Tanza.”

I know that club. Relatively new, but I’ve been there with Matthew a few times because I know one of the silent partners, who owns half the clubs in the city. It’s clean and, on the scale of things, safe. Travis and his buddies run a tight ship. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Try not to get into any trouble in the meantime, yes?”

All I get is laughter and the click of his phone as he hangs up on me. I curse under my breath and then thumb through my contacts to make a call.

“Hey, Travis, sorry to call so late.”

“No problem, Rey. You know I’m up anyway.” Yes, at one of his clubs or another, probably in a back room with women draped all over him, getting champagne poured down his throat. Unless he’s planning to play, in which case he’ll be stone-cold sober. A good thing too, because the Dommes he likes to play with don’t take any shit, including irresponsible behavior from their subs. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve got a friend who’s at Tanza. He’s pretty blitzed. I’m on my way to collect him, but in the meantime, could your bouncers keep an eye out for him? Either keep him out of trouble or don’t rough him up too much if he gets into some.”

“Anything for you. And lucky you, I’m there now. What’s his name?”

“Hart. Allie Hart.”

*

When I getto the club twenty minutes later, the front of the line groans as I cut right through the velvet rope, dropping a nod at the bouncer on my way. He nods and speaks into his wrist, probably telling Travis I’m here. I’m assuming things haven’t gone entirely to shit, because Travis would’ve called me if they had.

Not bothering to be polite to the dressed-to-the-nines guests surrounding me, I push my way into the main room and see Travis trotting down the steps of the industrial staircase that anchors the left side of building. He’s looking sharp in a suit, and if circumstances were different, I’d be happy to see him. As they are, I’m ecstatic.

He offers a hand, which I take in a firm grip, but I can’t pretend to be interested in pleasantries.

“Everything okay?”

“That your nickname for your new boy?”

I keep the scowl off my face, but barely. “He’s not my boy. Just a guy I met who I don’t want to see get into any trouble. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh.” Travis grins his disbelief, and it makes me want to knock his teeth out of his head. I don’t appreciate being teased.

“Maybe you should keep your theories to yourself, or I’ll have a word with Mistress Luna.”

Travis chokes, though his collar’s open wide enough to show more than a little of his waxed chest.

“He’s fine. Promise. I’ve been keeping an eye on him myself. Looking as if he’s having a good time with some woman. They’ve been out on the dance floor since you called. No trouble and no more drinks. On my honor as a pervert.”

Good to know. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“Want me to take you to him?”

“I’d rather you take me to a place I can watch.”

“Voyeurism? I dig it. Besides, that woman he’s been grinding up on is a hot piece of—”

I can tell he blanches under my glare, even through the spinning club lights. Travis is a good guy, he really is, and he genuinely likes women, but sometimes shit comes out of his mouth that obviously hasn’t been cleared by his brain first.

“Attractive woman who I shouldn’t objectify like a slab of meat.”

“Better.”

He leads me up the stairs he came from and through a heavy velvet drape. On the other side is an area even more exclusive than the VIP lounge we already walked through. He shows me to a table at the edge of the balcony and points to a place in the surging crowd. I follow to where his finger is pointing.

“Lavender shirt, dark jeans. Girl’s in a fuchsia halter top. Wasn’t hard to find with your description.”

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