Page 33 of Submitting to Daddy
“Morning,” I mutter, grabbing a mug and pouring myself a cup. I take a sip and am surprised at the bite of it.Thank fuck.
“Sorry for intruding so early,” Hawk begins. “But it’s a lot of space to cover. We figured we’d get started sooner rather than later.”
“We’ll do a full sweep here first,” Jagger explains, pulling out a small black case and flipping it open to reveal an array of electrical devices. “Then we’ll move on to the club.”
Hawk swipes through his phone, dropping it onto the counter with the photo Nik sent him the other night—the cameras he pulled from the club. “They do have audio. The feed theytransmit is short-range. Which means someone is either watching from nearby—probably within a building or two.”
“If they’re smart, they’re rotating through devices and recording feeds, as well,” Jagger adds.
I run a hand through my hair. “Start here. I want everything combed through—no shortcuts.”
We split off—Hawk and I sweep the penthouse while Jagger and Nik head to Enzo and Eavan’s below. We go room by room, tearing apart every vent, every electrical socket, checking baseboards and light fixtures. If there’s a pinhole to hide something in, we inspect it.
Madison appears a little after eight, fresh from the shower, her wet hair twisted up, wearing leggings and one of my T-shirts. She watches us silently from the kitchen as she pours herself a cup of coffee, eyes scanning the equipment, the wires, the mess we’ve made. I can feel the unease rolling off her. “You guys always ransack apartments apart before breakfast?” she asks with a casual smirk.
“That smart mouth, firecracker,” I lament, without looking up from the outlet I’m pulling from the wall.
“Another one?” Hawk chuckles under his breath, having been on the receiving end of Eavan’s more than a few times.
I shake my head. “What can I say? This place is a magnet for sassy women who like to talk back.” I glance toward Madison to find her staring back at me with a pleased smile.Such a brat.
By late morning, we’ve swept every inch of the apartments. Nothing. Not in Enzo’s, and not in mine. We’ve double-checked every frequency. Each of them is clean.For now.
The others start packing up their gear, and I pull Madison aside. “Stay,” I softly insist.
“You want me to stay locked up like a princess in your ivory tower?” She tilts her head and arches a brow.
“No.” I brush my knuckles over her cheek. “I just want you here when I come home.”
The fire in her eyes tells me she wants to argue, but she doesn’t. “Okay.”
“I’ll let Eavan know you’re here, so you won’t be alone all day.”
It takes us over an hour to cover the office and backrooms of the club. By the time we hit the executive VIP, I already feel the knot tightening in my stomach. “This makes three,” Hawk announces, crouched on a ladder, a screwdriver in one hand and a vent cover in the other. He holds up the tiny camera for a second before smashing it between the ladder and the handle of his screwdriver.
“Where else?” The words are like lead in my mouth.
Jagger steps in from the hall. “We just pulled another from the ceiling above the owners’ booth. And one more from the rear entrance—the one you use for less-than-savory visitors.”
“Like you fucks,” Nikolai quips, trying to lighten the mood.
I cross my arms and lean back against the wall, tension creeping up my spine.
“They’re watching you,” Hawk mutters from the ladder. “Notthe girls. This isn’t about getting off on strippers. They want to know what the three of you are up to.”
“Targeted placement,” Nik agrees. “They’re tracking our movement, who we speak to, how long we linger—and I would assume most of all—who comes and goes through that private access.”
My eyes drift over the lounge’s plush seating and dim lights—a place meant to entertain the city’s filthy rich and most corrupt. It’s supposed to be ours. Supposed to be off-limits.
“How long do you think it’s been going on?” I ask.
Hawk shrugs. “If I had to guess? Since you opened. Maybe longer. If it took us ladders and screwdrivers, it did for them, too.”
The thought that someone is feeding intel to whoever is on the other side of these feeds makes my blood fucking boil. I can handle enemies I can see coming, but this invisible threat hiding in our walls makes me feel like I’m the prey, vulnerable in a way I haven’t felt in years. “Where are we at on going through the construction workers? And the staff?” I glance at Enzo, who is scrolling through files on his tablet.
He sighs. “About halfway. We’ve been double-checking everyone’s background, bank activity, and family ties. At least three years back for everyone. But it’ll take a few more days to finish the rest.”
“A few days might be too fucking long,” I say under my breath, my jaw tightening so hard my teeth grind together.
