Page 30 of Sypher

“You know he won’t see anyone else, Prez. It has to be me.”

“The fuck it does!” The sound of Montana’s roar caused a stir among the Soulless Sinner brothers, as several of them stood up, their expressions showing worry and unease.

“I can send Massacre. Hell, I’m sure Maxim can send someone. It doesn’t have to be you.”

“Montana, what is the problem?” Maxim asked, confused.

Montana cursed. “The fucking problem is the Trick Pony is owned and operated by Devlin Scott.”

“And?”

“My sperm donor,” Malice growled.

“So let me get this straight.” Maxim sighed, rubbing his forehead, looking around the boardroom. “Malice’s biological father owns a BDSM club in Miami, Florida that caters to a select group of individuals with specialized sexual needs. The same club that we’re almost positive that Brevin Smirnov is hiding outin, and the only way to get Smirnov is to ask Malice to call his father.”

“Not my father,” the angry enforcer growled.

“It’s more than that,” Payne grumbled. “Malice would have to see him in person and that’s what we can’t allow.”

“Not your choice,” the grumpy man replied, folding his arms across his chest. “It’s the only way and you know it.”

“The fuck it is, brother,” Mercy cursed. “We are not letting you anywhere near that son of a bitch.”

“What everyone is dancing around is that Devlin Scott isn’t just the owner of a BDSM club. He’s also the motherfucker that abused and sexually tortured Malice’s sixteen-year-old birth mother. Devlin Scott is a pedophile and serial rapist. We’ve tried for years to get someone in that club to kill his ass, only to be turned away at the door. To make matters worse, he knows about Malice. Every fucking year, that son of a bitch donates one million dollars to Malice’s charity, the Foundation, which he started in memory of his mother. Fucker likes to taunt Malice.”

“If he raped a sixteen-year-old, then why not turn him into the authorities?”

“Because it’s not considered rape if they are married,” Malice rumbled.

“The age of consent in Florida is eighteen,” Maxim stated, confused.

“My birth mother was from Alabama. That son of a bitch raped and tortured my mother. When he found out she was pregnant, he tried to beat me out of her. When he failed, he threw my mother away. Discarded her like trash. He dumped her in Seattle, Washington, where it’s believed my mother gave birth to me on the streets. I was four days old when she dropped me off at a local fire station. The authorities searched high and low, but they did not find my mother. It’s believed she died on the streets. Raised in the system, I aged out at eighteen and hadto learn to navigate the world on my own. Eventually, I made my way to New York and found Father Dominic and the Soulless Sinners.”

“If he discarded you and your mother, then how do you know he’s your biological father?” Massacre asked.

“Because when Malice started the Foundation, the fucker showed up at the inaugural ball when theTimesran an article about the Foundation. Malice’s face dominated the headlines of every newspaper. The bastard looks just like him. Right down to the evil glare they both share. The club investigated Devlin Scott extensively, and that’s when we learned the truth of what happened to Malice,” Mercy explained, leaning back in his chair. “The two times Malice has been in a room with the fucker we’ve had to stop Malice from killing him.”

“He likes to taunt Malice with memories of what he did to his mother,” Payne added. “Fucker gets off on it.”

“There has to be a way into that club without sending Malice in,” Storm added.

“What else do you know about the man?” Maxim asked.

“He’s big in the BDSM world. Caters to men and women across the globe. His club is uber exclusive, and you can only get in by personal invitation from the fucktard himself.”

“Um, sorry for interrupting, Mr. Montana, but I know how you can get into that club, and you won’t even need an invitation.”

“How?” Maxim asked, sitting up as Montana groaned.

“My brother. Ace.”

Listening while Maxim and Montana explained the situation, I watched as Ace and the men of Harbor Security mulled over what everyone said.

“What do you say?” Maxim asked, looking at my brother, who sat next to his boss, Mr. Law, surrounded by the rest of Harbor Security. “All we need is verification that Brevin Smirnov is in the club. Once we know he’s there, my men will take over.”

“It’s not going to be that easy,” Ace muttered. “The Trick Pony is under constant surveillance by security personnel. You can’t even scratch your nose without being caught on one of the top-of-the-line surveillance cameras. To even gain access to the club, you must produce a keycard, and that will only get you as far as the reception area, where you must provide a passcode that changes every twenty-four hours to enter the main lobby. And if you manage to get past all that, there is still the biometrics security system.”

“And just how in the hell did a BDSM club get that kind of security?” Maxim asked, curiously.

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