Page 22 of Dead Devil's Playground
We reach the Playground in record time, pulling into the staff parking lot at the back of the club. The place is quiet, not yet open to the public. The grand opening is three nights away, but right now the place is meant to be empty, the staff only preparing during the day.
I kill the engine, and Ry immediately slides off, pulling her helmet free and brushing a hand over her teal hair. Hudson parks beside us, his movements stiff as he dismounts Rev's bike.
We approach the back entrance together, a united front despite the complicated dynamics between us. Hudson steps forward, knocking solidly on the metal door. There's a pause, then the sound of a bolt sliding. The door opens just a fraction at first, then widens to reveal Oliver.
The dancer looks almost fearful, his eyes darting between the three of us like he can't decide who to be more afraid of. I'm not sure if it's whatever he saw that has him spooked, or if it's just us. Maybe both.
"Thank god you're here," he says, voice low and urgent as he ushers us inside. "They're gone now, but they'll be back. I heard them talking about opening night."
"Who? Start from the beginning," Ry commands, all business despite the fact that less than thirty minutes ago she was coming apart on my dining table with Hudson's hand around her throat. "Tell me exactly what you saw and heard."
His words start tumbling out so fast I can barely keep up.
"So I was practicing earlier but then that big guy—" he shoots a nervous glance at Hudson, "—one of your men grabbed me and hauled me out like I was trespassing even though I work here and I tried to explain but he wouldn't listen and I left my bag with all my stuff in it and I really needed it so I came back after everyone was gone because I wanted to get some extra practice in for opening night because I want to be perfect for you—for the club, I mean—and make sure I do my absolute best and I was just about to put on the harness to practice the aerial routine from the ceiling platform when I heard voices and I didn't want to get in trouble for being here so late especially after what happened earlier so I hid behind the—"
We've been following him through the darkened club, the only illumination coming from the emergency lights that cast long shadows across the space. As we start up the stairs to themezzanine level, I reach out and grab him by the collar, yanking him to a halt.
"Hey, Puppy, take a breath and slow it down," I order, keeping my grip firm on his shirt.
Oliver rolls his eyes but when he starts speaking again, his pace is noticeably slower.
"I hid behind one of the curtains near the VIP section," he continues, leading us toward the area. "Even though I was hidden, I could still see them. Three men I've never seen before. Not workers, definitely not supposed to be here."
"And?" I prompt when he pauses.
"They were working on something near the ceiling. Looked like they were messing with something in one of the panels."
Hudson growls low in his throat, and I don't need to be a mind reader to know why. Security is his department and if they touched one of the panels then they messed with his systems. Someone touching his systems is like someone touching his woman.
I suppress a grin at that thought.
"Can you describe them?" Hudson demands, voice tight.
Oliver nods eagerly, leading us toward the back of the club. "One was tall, maybe six foot, buzzed hair, scar across his right eyebrow. Another was shorter, stocky build, with a full beard. The third guy was thin, nervous-looking. He kept watching the doors while the others worked."
I frown for a moment but we reach a section of wall near the stairs leading to the aerial platform. Hudson immediately drops to his knees, examining the paneling with practiced hands. His fingers trace the outline of a small access panel, and when he pries it open, his entire body goes rigid.
"Motherfuckers," he growls, examining the wiring inside. "They've tampered with the fire suppression system."
Ry curses, checking her watch. "The fire marshal inspection is in six hours. If they find this..."
She doesn't need to finish. We all know what happens if the Playground fails inspection. The grand opening gets delayed, our reputation takes a hit, and whoever's behind this wins the first round.
"Oliver," Ry says, "did you check the security cameras?"
He shakes his head, copper-blonde hair falling across his face. "I don't know where they are or how to access them."
"Follow me," Hudson commands, already stalking toward the administrative offices down on the main floor at the back of the club.
The security room is small but state-of-the-art, with monitors covering one wall and a control panel that looks like it belongs in a military installation. Hudson slides into the chair, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he pulls up footage from earlier in the night.
"Fuck," he mutters, clicking through empty frames. "The system's been wiped clean. All footage from after Stella left is gone."
"Can you recover it?" I ask, already knowing the answer from his expression.
"No. This wasn't amateur hour. They knew exactly what they were doing." He pulls out his phone. "I need to check every system in the building. This could be just the beginning."
As Hudson starts making calls, I watch Ry. Her face has shifted into what I privately call her boss mode—eyes sharp, jaw set, fingers already tapping messages into her phone. She's beautiful like this, all cold calculation and deadly intent. It reminds me of the Dead Devil’s Night years ago when we saw her alive after thinking she was dead—that perfect blend of fire and ice.
