Page 23 of Caught Up

I hung up on her. A membership meant giving out my personal information and undergoing some kind of background check, which meant I needed to make another call.

This time, a man picked up. “Yo, Junior. What can I do for you?”

It was Mack, my dad’s tech guy. I’d thought he was atop-notchhacker until I’d watched my cousin’s boyfriend, Josh, at work. Now I wasn’t so sure.

“That fake ID you gave me,” I said, “does it have legs, or is it just plastic?”

“It has legs,” he assured me.

“How long are they? I might need to run it through a background check.”

“Long enough. There’s an address, a social security number, and medical records attached to it,” he said, a note of pride in his tone.

“You’re sure it’ll check out?” I asked.

“Absolutely,” he said.

I thanked him and hung up. He’d better fucking hope he was right.

Half an hour later, I walked into the main room of Velvet wearing a courtesy mask provided by the hostess. It was plain, black, made of plastic, and covered me from my forehead to the top of my mouth. I felt like a fucking idiot in it, but the alternative was walking around a kink club—sorry,play club,as I’d been informed—with mywhole-assface on display for anyone to see, and that wasn’t happening.

My newly printed membership card was burning a hole in my pocket, ready to be used at any of the private rooms I wanted to pop into. I’d say one thing for this place: It waswell-run. While a doughty older woman took my fake ID and ran a background check, the much more pleasant host staff led me to awell-appointedoffice and gone through the surprisingly extensive list of rules. There were commonsense ones like respecting people’s boundaries and keeping your hands to yourself unless explicit consent was given, along with some moreinterestingones like stopping if someone’s lips started to turn blue while you were choking them.

I’d cracked a joke about them not having to worry about me. I strangled people for a living; didn’t want it encroaching on my me time. Alec would have found it hilarious, but the staff just blinked at me, and I had to quickly backtrack and spew some bullshit about how I meant itfinancially. Afterward, I kept my mouth shut. This was why mobsters and normal people didn’t mix well.

Now, as I walked through thefirst-floorlounge, I had to agree with the anonymous Reddit post I’d read outside. This place took not only their rules but their security seriously. There were large men guarding the entrance. I spotted several cameras high in the corners, barely visible because their matte black coating blended in with the wallpaper. All the play room doors had scanners on them, and you had to swipe your member card to gain entry. I was betting each card stroke was recorded, so if anything went awry, whoever monitored them would know every single person who’d been inside when the incident occurred.

It was impressive. And so was the décor: dark, moody, tactile. Instead of bright overhead lights like I saw in a lot of clubs, this one was lit with floor and table lamps that cast the occupants in a soft, forgiving light. The furniture was clad in tweed and velvet and leather. Along the far wall, an antique mahogany bar gleamed with a fresh coat of polish. It smelled like citrus and old books, but beneath that were the undeniable hints of sex and latex.

I scanned the people around me. This lounge seemed to be the main hub of the club, a place where members gathered while they waited to enter other rooms, meet friends, or take a breather between...sessions? Scenes? I didn’t know the lingo. All I knew was that it was crowded, and the soft light made it hard to pick out faces, which I’m sure was intentional.

I wasn’t the only anonymous person in attendance. A few others wore what looked like custom masks, everything from a standard balaclava to ahorror-movie-inspiredface covering. The sight weirded me out, but more than a few women were crowded around the Jason wannabee, so maybe it was some kind of fetish?

I felt eyes on me as I moved through the room. These people seemed much more at ease than I was, like they’d been here often enough that they knew most others in attendance, understood the rules, both written and unspoken. I was the fresh blood, so of course I drew notice.

A woman broke away from the wall and approached me. She was a few inches shorter than I was, curvy, attractive, with blond hair and blue eyes. Eyes that were downturned as she stopped right in front of me. I glanced around us, but the people nearest were only watching with mild interest, no cutting amusement in their eyes to tell me I was being punked or something. My confusion only deepened as the blondbowedto me, lifting her hands in offering, some sort of leather accessory—­a collar?—resting on her palms.

The fuck was I supposed to do with that?

I waited for her to explain herself, but she just stood there, silent.

“Uh...” Not wanting to appear rude, I reached out and patted the top of her head. “No thank you.”

She bowed deeper and stepped away, so I assumed I’d at least avoided some kind of faux pas. I moved past her, on the verge of sweating. Jesus Christ, this was uncomfortable. If I’d paused for a second before storming in here, I probably would have talked myself out of it, but the thought of Lauren with someone else sent me barreling inside without a single thought besides getting to her. Had she been coming here all these years? How many of these assholes knew what she felt like? Tasted like? How many tongues would I have to cut out of people’s—

Nope. Stop that,I told myself.You’re trying to be a better human being, and homicidal thoughts like that aren’t helping you find her.

Glancing at my phone, I saw that Lauren was still on the second floor, so I headed toward the stairs. They spat me out in a dimly lit hallway. The sounds were more overt up here, and every closed door I passed seemed to hold something new. Laughter, moans, the sharp snap of leather connecting with flesh.

The doors had placards on them, but the labels were as frustratingly vague as Velvet’s website, at least to someone like me who wasn’t in the know.Learn,Hunt,Warm,Secure.My phone told me Lauren was inWatch(because of course she was), and, taking a deep breath, I scanned my membership card and carefully pushed the door open, not knowing what the fuck I was about to walk in on.

I found the room surprisingly full, most people already sitting, the rest loitering at the back while they sipped their drinks and talked quietly amongst themselves. The lighting was even dimmer than in the hallway, with just a single overhead fixture shining down on the far side, where a platform stood, looking more like a dais than a stage. A bed sat front and center on it, piled with dark silk sheets.

The sound of a soft,familiarlaugh drew my gaze. Lauren sat in the front row. She was still wearing that enticingly flimsy silk dress, talking to the person next to her with enough animation that when she gestured with a hand, the motion sent one of thewhisper-thinstraps sliding down her shoulder. It was only with monumental effort that I stayed where I was while she casually slipped it back into place.

My gaze snagged on the person beside her. It was a man. A man who was looking at her with far too much hunger in his eyes for my liking. Nope. Not happening. I hadn’t waited all these years just to let some fucking rando move in on her in front of me.

I slipped through the crowd and rounded several rows of chairs, approaching Lauren, my gaze trained on the man beside her. In a split second, I had to decide how to play this: by force or coercion. Force would be the obvious choice for some, a way to flex their dominance, show the competition who they were dealing with. I discarded it out of turn. As tempting as it was, this was a tight space, and I didn’t know the guy or how he’d react to direct confrontation. My goal was to get close to Lauren andstayclose to her, not get kicked out of this club right after gaining entry.

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