Page 60 of The Trap

“Jesus fucking Christ, Carmine, if my mother knew you dragged us here,” she seethes, sounding more flustered by the second.

“Oh, she does,” he begins, stopping for just a moment, smirking at the shocked expression on Raiden’s face. “Well, I mean she knew I was supposed to have you brought here tonight. Not this,” he pauses again, this time emphasizing where the three of us stand, “but I also didn’t think that you’d be fucking your way out of here. My god Ramos, I’ve never been more thankful for having this place below Satan’s. Do you know how many Manhattans I had to drink upstairs before Sienna texted me that it was safe to come down here?”

“Ha, wellIknew this would happen,” the woman interrupts, who I am now assuming is Sienna, his fucking wife, says. “But it made it that much better of a send-off party for Bretty-boy over here, didn’t it?” she pokes at him.

I shake my head, reaching for my boxers, trying so hard to stifle a nervous laugh. Thiswouldbe our first time together, with her psycho cousin or technically his wife playing games.

The white Pitbull, Nada, skips over to Raiden, and she kneels to pet him before Carmine whistles for the dog to go to him. “Good boy,” he praises the dog before clearing his throat. “Get dressed, Mr. Cromwell. No need to have your dick hanging outwhen you kill your brother, unless that’s your thing. Who am I to judge?” He howls with laughter as I reach for my pants, slipping them on. I feel Raiden’s stare on me, watching my every move.

She reaches for my hand, “I’m so sorry, my family is so embarrassing.”

I squeeze her hand, looking past her and to the fucking sorry sack of shit I’ve called brother my whole life. Our gazes meet, his weary, mine full of eagerness with redemption on the horizon. “Yep, well, I know a thing or two about embarrassing family members.”And ones that betray you.

“This way, you two,” Carmine’s voice interrupts, leading us in the direction of the final obstacle in the way of us leaving here together.

Bloodshed.

TWENTY-SIX

Chains drape from the ceiling of the long, darkened hall the four of us–including Nada–walk through in silence. Adrenaline ignites within my veins, still reeling from the unexpected high, Colson and I rode together – that we were interrupted from – as we approach the end of the hallway. Now that I know where this place is, the coffin shape of the steel door in front of us makes sense–it matches the doors to the private rooms upstairs.

“Carmine, what is this place?” I ask, his back still facing us as he places his hand on the door handle, but of course he doesn’t answer. Instead, he lowers his hand to Nada, who is perched up, standing on his hind legs.

“Primo!” I fume, not bothering to diminish an ounce of exasperation in my tone. “What the fuck is this? Why did you bring us here?”

“Calm down, prima. You’re alive, aren’t you?” he asks, scratching behind Nada’s head before standing again, now reaching and lowering the handle too slowly for my liking. “Aren’t you?” he repeats.

The hinges of the metal door before us groan as he pushes it open. The silence from before is a distant memory as acacophony of noises berate our eardrums, though none of them are what I expect. I anticipated screaming, or Brett pleading for his life, since–last I checked–he was tied up. But none of that sounds.

With the door fully open, the crimson hue of the walls and the lighting strikes me, as do the moans of pleasure bouncing off the walls. The music playing in the background is sultry and calm, but it’s merely a backdrop to the scene before me. Masked men and women are everywhere. Some are naked, others are clothed and dancing. There’s alcohol being served at the bar that’s across from the stage centered amongst the feral chaos. The stage looks like it should house a few stripper poles, but as we walk towards it, I can see it’s a runway that people appear to be taking turns running down, with different masked suitors chasing them and pinning them against the wall. Whatever this place is, it looks like heaven compared to the side me and Colson had to go through to get here.

The song that’s playing ends and in its place is Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love” booming through the speakers. Heat runs rampant through my face, thinking back to how this exact song –which is one of my favorites– was playing as Colson pinned me to the axe wall. Fuck, that was so hot. Well, all of it was.

Carmine turns around, cupping his hand in front of his mouth. “This way,” he shouts, competing with the music.

We both nod as we follow him away from what looks like a horror sex club. Though as we continue to walk, I can’t help but notice that Colson hasn’t taken his eyes off me. Not even when the bombshell with the Jason mask walked past him, eyeing him up and down. He continues to keep his gaze on me the entire time we make our way out of the crowded room, until we reach a dead end through yet another long, dimly lit hall.

“This place is a fucking maze,” I huff out.

“Yep, it is, but this–” Carmine stops, his voice singsongs as he reaches into his pocket and retrieving a dog bone, he tosses it to Nada, whose tail wags happily, snatching the treat in his jaw before scurrying away back into the crowd.

“Um, Car, is he going to be, okay?” I ask, already losing sight of Nada in the crowd.

Carmine places his hand on the wall and a square light appears beneath it. The scanner starts to trace the outline of his hand before flashing green and unlocking the concealed door. “Yep, he’ll be fine.” His voice drifts as he pushes the door open. “The regulars are used to him being here, they’ll take care of him. Plus, I don’t want him to be here for this.”

“For what?” I ask stupidly, as if I don’t already know what’s awaiting us.

“This,” Sienna’s feminine voice breaks the silence. She slinks towards Colson and me, ripping off the black skeleton mask on her face and tossing it to the floor, the stitched pattern of ink that scatters all over her body now visible from her wardrobe change. No longer in the all-black one piece with gloves, she extends her hand for Colson to shake.

“Welcome,” she says so nonchalantly it’s almost laughable. As if she wasn’t the one orchestrating her jigsaw-esque games. “You two are something, you know that? When we opened this place, I could have only hoped for a pair with this much chemistry to come through these walls. I mean, we did have one throuple. God, they were so hot together. The girl had these long black braids that her motorcycle club boyfriends both used as reins. Fuck, it was a sight, but you two really gave them a run for their money,” she says with ample glee.

“Sienna, respectfully, what the fuck are you talking about?” I ask, bursting her bubble.

She sighs, spinning on her heel to face the wall of computer screens that are surveilling every inch of this place. Her heels tapagainst the cement floor, echoing with each step as she makes her way closer to the elephant in the room…good ol’ Brett.

“You see, when your cousin suggested using the square footage, we had below Satan’s to expand the more legitimate parts of our business, I was on board. I mean, times are tough, even for us, so I’m all for anything to add a little extra revenue. We obviously wanted to keep the same theme as we have upstairs and at The Sandy Claws in the city. We wanted it to be sexy, gothic, and unapologetically dark, but…” she trails off, circling Brett’s chair. Lifting her hand to his mouth, she teases him by pulling at the filthy fabric sandwiched between his teeth, “that just didn’t feel like it’d be enough. I mean yes, this place has given me ample inspiration for my writing. Let me tell you, the things people are willing to do – to be – when anonymity and discretion are up for grabs, it’s a romance author's dream. Or wet dream,” she pauses to laugh.

“Mi Reina, please,” Carmine urges her, but he too is trying to stifle a laugh.

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