Page 89 of Seducer

Shit.

I’d almost sent my wild kitty an invitation until something had told me to learn even more about her, including regarding her secrets. If my instincts were correct, she would be at the club, someone receiving an invitation. A part of me already felt possessive of being forced to share her. Sharing wasn’t a word in my vocabulary.

So here I was wearing an Obsidian Society costume, preparing to enter another man’s dark realm.

Tonight, I was the Seducer.

A man on a mission.

Fighting desire that had invaded my dreams, ignited my senses.

The darkness, the hunger had crowded into my system, making any aspect of normal life seem bland.

In addition, there were the stories and rumors, the ugliness about our family that felt as if there were stacked guillotines waiting in the shadows.

By the end of day, the phone calls I’d questioned had started to come into the office. A couple of reporters, a few customers. However, for the most part sales continued to increase. Oddly enough, the movie producer had contacted Xander twice almost begging for a meeting.

As I’d known from early in my career, sex and violence always sold merchandise. When you added in the possibility that we were deranged killers, to Hollywood we were found gold.

I’d yet to hear if either Wilder or Xander had made any headway on whether there was any information on the tips both reporters had received. I would in the morning. Tonight was all about cornering Brant.

He’d called me again, reminding me of his personal invitation. I’d almost told him no, but something about the urgent sound of his voice had taken me aback. The man was hiding something and I was determined to find out what.

Christopher had also come through, learning that Brant’s father was in significant debt. The warehouse was something Brant had put his heart and soul into. However, it seemed his father’s tight hold on various real estate pieces was crumbling with no clear indication of why. Other than that his Ponzi scheme had come to a crashing end. Christopher was still calling in a few favors, but at least I had some knowledge my buddy might be ready to supply me with the truth. If not… God help him.

While I hadn’t known Brant very well, Steve had pulled me aside early on, sharing with me his buddy had a twisted streak a mile wide. I’d wondered since then if his father was aware of that.

The warehouse district was slowly attracting attention, various small businesses and corporations taking aim at owning a piece of an area some had coined a new Soho. So far, what few operations had set up shop were eclectic in nature, including funky jewelry stores and art galleries. Brant’s was the only club in the district.

If he played his cards right, he’d have a success on his hands.

The warehouse itself appeared larger than seen in the pictures. There were four floors secured in an old brick and mortar building. I’d learned it had once been a manufacturing plant. From what I’d heard, there were several auxiliary rooms for private parties. Given the interesting layout of the facility, the location could lend itself to being used for hunting purposes.

Grinning, I found a parking spot on the street a few blocks away. Almost as soon as I exited my vehicle, I could hear voices. There were several couples heading in the same direction I was.

I was dressed in all black, my selected mask shoved into my back pocket. In the games, we’d taken over abandoned warehouses, used huge stretches of vacant woods, one of which had included a dilapidated cabin, and had even used a cemetery for extra spookiness. But an actual club hadn’t been a selection of choice.

There were too many possible witnesses, people who couldn’t be controlled.

Still, a part of me was curious as to what Brant had come up with. I walked toward the entrance, met by two large bouncers with skull masks and a young woman who appeared as something straight out of theJokermovie.

“Can I help you, sir? Are you ready to conquer your personal demons?” she asked.

“I prefer keeping my demons to myself.”

She exhaled. “Just remember, the rumor is that several people have died inside this very building. You never know when you’ll meet an angry ghost.”

Well, if the girl was nothing else, she was an excellent saleswoman with a flair for the dramatic.

“Fascinating.”

“Do you have an invitation for tonight?”

An invitation. Perhaps this was more of a soft opening. “How about Brant Abbott’s insistent invitation?”

She giggled. “That will do.”

“Where is he?”

---