Page 34 of Killer Knows Best

We step inside, and before I can process a thing, I stop dead in my tracks when I see what’s happening.

I certainly wasn’t prepared forthis.

23

SPECIAL AGENT FALLON BAXTER

The moment Jack and I step inside the haunted mansion, it’s like we’ve crossed into another dimension.

The entire place is draped in enough marble, glass, and mirrors to make it feel like a high-end funhouse—except instead of distorted reflections, I’m seeing every inch of everyone’s perfectly polished bodies at odd and compromising angles.

Crystal chandeliers hang from the vaulted ceiling and cast a dim, intimate light that’s amplified by the flicker of what must be enough candles to burn down the Rocky Mountains. The air smells of expensive cologne, roses, and something else—something a little too sweet and perhaps even dangerous. The jazz music grows in volume and does its best to strangle out the laughter.

But it’s not pricey scents or even pricier décor that catches my attention.

It’s the people.

Gorgeous men and women, all draped around each other like living art pieces, hands tangled in hair, fingers tracing curves with a vigorous hunger. And as if that wasn’t enough, there’s asmattering of silver bowls scattered around the room brimming with fluffy feathers, silk blindfolds, soft restraints, and, well, other things that don’t belong in your typical centerpiece in a suburban home, but would fit right in at a brothel.

“Is this a fever dream?” I hiss at Jack, not even sure how to frame that sentence. Although high-end sex club might be more accurate.

He lifts a brow my way as if he shares the sentiment.

Kiki, or Karen, hardly notices my confusion. She’s too busy pointing to a tall man in a perfectly tailored suit who’s currently halfway through a very enthusiastic make-out session with a handsy redhead. The woman has her arm up his shirt, and he’s got one of his own tangled in her hair.

“That’s my husband,” Karen says casually, like she’s pointing out a banal hors d’oeuvre. “And, of course, you know Teagan.” She nods at the redhead, who now has her leg wrapped around the guy like an anaconda. “I swear, she just invites us to these things because she’s got the hots for Mark.” She giggles as if she’s sharing a juicy bit of gossip. And she just might be. “Don’t worry,” she turns to me with a stern look, “we know our limits.”

My eyebrows shoot up at the thought. Because clearly, there are no limits here.

Before I can say a word, her phone buzzes and she frowns at the screen.

“I have to take this,” she grunts. “Our pod is in the right-hand quadrant of the living room.” She points across the sea of writhing bodies. “I’ll meet you there. Be right back.” She taps Jack’s arm. “And don’t forget—you’re mine.”

She scurries off, and I look to Jack with an expression that could melt iron. “What the heck is going on, Stone? I don’t think we have enough bullets between the two of us to fix this mess.”

“My guess?” He sighs, and I can’t help but note the amusement in his eyes. “Soft swingers.”

“What the heck does that mean?”

“It means exactly what she said.” His lips twitch as he holds back a smile, or a laugh. Most likely both. “They know their limits. And it also means that someone is going to have a very good time.”

I shoot him a look for even implying the fact.

“Not me,” he adds quickly, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m not going to have a good time.”

I cast a quick glance at the room and frown. “Maybe I will.”

Before he can fire back, Karen returns, bouncing on her toes as if they had morphed into springs. She doesn’t hesitate pulling Jack close, and suddenly I feel like a third wheel. I don’t like feeling like a third wheel. Feeling like a third wheel makes my trigger finger twitch, and that’s never a good thing for anyone.

The vibe in the room shifts and intensifies as couples seem to melt together. Voices drop to low murmurs and hands roam freely. The heat kicks up several notches, and I’m more than a little aware of the eyes flitting in our direction—the newcomers, theoutsiders. Although, judging by the way Karen is massaging Jack’s shoulders, he fits in just fine.

Out of nowhere a man slides up next to me. He’s tall, built like a football player, and holds the scent of some overpriced cologne that’s trying way too hard. Reminds me of a bad boyfriend I once had in high school. That didn’t end well and neither will this. Although back then I wasn’t eager to flash my Glock the way I am now.

He’s handsome but in a cheesy way. His hair is slicked back, and there’s a devilish gleam in his eye that sends up every red flag I have.

He leans in, a little too close for comfort, and his breath warms against my neck.

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” he purrs as his gaze does a slow crawl from my face down to places it doesn’t belong.

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