Page 45 of Forbidden Deviant Games

VIKS

Sweat makesmy t-shirt stick to my skin as I roamInferno. Young women in practically transparent club dresses eye me with interest. I ignore them all in favor of searching for my prey. After Cain’s speech that kicked off the start of the night, the club has been taken over by the elite upper echelon and their partying.

The music is loud. The scent of weed, alcohol, and expensive perfume is heavy on the air. It makes my nose twitch with irritation. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I take a step back when a gaggle of laughing and already half-drunk women passes by as I answer it.

“Report,” I say curtly.

“I’m not finding him anywhere.” Jackson’s voice comes through the phone with a clear tone of irritation. “Are you sure he’s going to show tonight?”

“Carter was pretty set on it,” I answer. “And I agreed, I don’t see why he wouldn’t check this place out.”

“But on opening night?” Jackson asks.

I don’t know.Fuck, I don’t know what this bastard is thinking.A sense of dread is digging at my instincts, though. Enough that I don’t think we can just call it a night and all go home. Something will happen tonight. I just don’t know what—and not knowing or even having a suspicion is messing with my head.

“Just keep looking.”

Jackson groans into the receiver. With the phone to my ear, I let my gaze drift upward, frowning when I scan the row of balcony rooms above. I see dancers and partiers and even a few businessmen enjoying the scenery down below as they sip their thousand-dollar scotch. I don’t see Haley, though.

That sense of dread only swells within me.

“I need you to check on something for me.” Even as the words come out, I’m already on the move. I keep my eyes trained upward, searching for a hint of her, but still she doesn’t appear. “Look up the security feed for the private rooms on the second floor. Room Number One.”

“You think he’s in a private room?” Jackson asks. The sound of his fingers typing and clicking echo into my ear.

“No.”

My feet pick up the pace as I shove through the crowd towards the staircase on the other side of the dance floor. Anxiety creeps into my veins.She’s fine,I tell myself. Surely, she’s fine. I left Troy with her and he’d never let anything bad happen to her. Troy is as solid as a man gets. Loyal. I trust him.

It’s hard, though, even through that trust—not seeing her at the railing that she’s been practically glued to all night is making me panic.

“What exactly am I looking for?” Jackson asks a moment later.

“There should be a girl in the room with Troy.”

“Uhhh.” There’s some clicking and I can just imagine him sitting there shaking his head. “No, man. No one’s in the room. No girl and no Troy. You sure this is the right room?” Jackson pauses and then, “wait, I think I see something. That’s … shit—Troy’s in there, but I think he might be hurt.”

The staircase entrance and the bouncer come into view. I don’t even respond to Jackson or stop to show the bouncer my ID again. Instead, I leap over the velvet rope and shove the man to the side, my heart fucking pounding.

When he gets back up and begins to follow me, I get halfway up the stairs with the man hard on my heels. Without even hesitating, I reach into my back holster beneath my shirt and pull my gun free, turning and pointing it straight at his forehead.

“Don’t,” I warn.

The man’s eyes widen and he freezes, holding up his hands in the universal ‘I’m innocent and I mean no harm’ gesture. It only takes a moment for my face to register for him.

He drops his arms and takes a step back down the staircase. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Vikson,” he says quickly. “I didn’t realize it was you.”

I don’t bother with a reply as I continue up the stairs, taking them two at a time, never putting my gun back and especially not when I reach the landing and shove through the door into the private room I’d left Haley in. The room she should have been safe in. The room where she no longer is. Jackson was right—Troy is obviously hurt. If it were anyone else missing, someone less important, I’d give him the benefit of the doubt, but now I don’t have time for that. I go down on bended knee, slapping my gun on the hardwood floor and my phone right next to it as I lift him up by his shirt and shake him. Hard.

“Wake the fuck up!” I bellow. Blood trickles down the side of his face and Troy groans as he finally comes to. “Where is she?” I demand. “Where’s Haley?”

Troy’s eyes open, but they’re unfocused. “Sh-she … fuck, man. I’m sorry.”

“Was it Kennedy?” I demand. “Do you know where they went?”

Troy shakes his head and then pales like he wants to vomit. “No, it wasn’t Kennedy. It was some kid,” he tells me.

Some kid? “What the fuck are you talking about?”

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