“Enter me,” she said.
“Yeah, if you can take it on. He doesn’t have your usual deposit because, from what I can tell, he spends all his extra cash on weed, X, various hallucinogens and sex toys. But my friend says he might be a flake, he’s also a decent guy, and he’d be good for your normal fee on a payment-plan basis. And if you find something, the good guy partner is gonna have to be brought in, and he’ll undoubtedly cover you through the club.”
If this was coming from anyone but Carlo, she’d hang up on him.
But it was coming from Carlo, and she was facing a slowdown from firm work. On top of that, firm work was never very exciting, so having something juicy to sink her teeth into worked in a big way.
“What’s the fucked-up shit the bad guy partner is using the club to facilitate?” Sixx asked.
“Prostitution.”
Oh shit.
“On club premises?” she inquired.
“Yeah,” Carlo told her. “Books their private rooms in the club, his girls work them, mostly giving, not getting.”
“So they’re subs,” Sixx surmised.
“Nope, they’re paid whores who this guy keeps jacked up on meth or smack and pimps out. This doesn’t appear to be entirely voluntary, or, say, voluntary at all if you factor out them being slaves to their addiction. An addiction it’s considered this guy enables so he can get them to work for him.”
Oh man.
Now she was getting pissed.
“Does the paid play get extreme?” she queried.
“No clue about that life but the words ‘blood play,’ ‘burn play,’ and ‘branding’ were said during my brief. I’m taking a wild stab, but I think that would mean a yes.”
“It would mean a yes,” she muttered.
“You up for a meet with this guy?”
“Can’t do anything until Monday, but yes.”
“Great. I’ll set it up. His name is Josh. Last name Coates, if you want to dig into him in the meantime.”
Oh, she’d be digging into him all right.
The problem was, she was in the scene, knew the scene, and was known in the scene. She couldn’t go undercover to set herself up to maybe be taken in by this BDSM pimp.
But Sylvie could.
She grinned at the windshield again.
“Keep in touch,” she said to Carlo.
“Will do. In other news, things good?”
They were fantastic.
“I haven’t handed anyone their ass in months, so I’m getting jittery,” she told him. “Other than that, they’re what they are.”
Which would be fantastic.
“Love a girl who loves to bust asses,” Carlo replied.
“That bus with all the squares on it is rolling out, David. Time to grab your microphone, puka shells, feather your hair, and head out.”
“You think your smart ass is a turnoff, but I’m totally hard right now.”
“I’m pretty sure masturbation is not allowed on the bus.”
He burst out laughing.
She grinned at her windshield again.
When he stopped laughing, she said, “Before you go take care of business, how about you? All good?”
He didn’t answer.
“Carlo?” she called. “You there?”
There was another moment of silence before, in a low voice, he stated, “You’ve never asked me that.”
Sixx didn’t grin at that.
“I just finished a job and have a long drive home,” she lied. She was now five minutes away from Stellan’s. “Just killing time.”
“No you aren’t. You’ve got the hots for me.”
That set her to grinning again.
“I’ve known you four years, I don’t know your last name, and you have a way with a switchblade that scares even me, and I’m totally badass. You’re not my type.”
“What’s your type?” he asked, part teasing, part curiosity.
Tall, dark, rich men who are as beautiful inside as they are on the outside, she thought.
“I haven’t met him yet,” she said, lying to a friend yet again.
“Right,” Carlo muttered.
“I’m bored now.” And there was another lie.
“Right.” That was said on a chuckle.
“I’m also hanging up on you now,” she warned him.
“So what’s new?” he asked.
It was then he heard her chuckle.
But with her thumb hovering over the button on her steering wheel that would disconnect their call, quietly she said, “I never thanked you, and I should have thanked you. So now I’m going to say it, mean it, and it’ll be done until you call the marker that you earned for doing it. Thank you for saving my life, Carlo. I owe you one.”
With that, she disconnected.
She wasn’t breathing easily, but she managed to get herself together as she completed the drive home to Stellan’s.
She parked next to his Maserati, and as she walked in the back door, she could practically taste the martini he’d no doubt make her since she was home at a relatively decent hour and she was now unsure she could live without his excellent martinis (they were that good).
It was on the tip of her tongue to shout, “Honey, I’m home,” as she tossed her cell phone, binoculars and purse on the island.
Fortunately, Stellan wandered into the great room from the direction of the stairs before she said it.
“Hey,” she greeted.
“Hey,” he returned on a smile, coming her way.
She watched, and seriously, threat of death, she wouldn’t have been able to pick a favorite between his workwear, his casualwear or his loungewear.
Though naked was the best, him right there in low-slung, burgundy, drawstring knit pants and a short-sleeved, gray Henley that clung to his chest was definitely her current fave.
“You’re done early,” he noted.
“There’s nothing else to get, and watching him watch TV was definitely not a thrill a minute,” she replied.
As he came to a stop in front of her, his smile changed in a way Sixx liked very much with certain parts of her body liking it especially.
“I wonder if we can find something that will keep you amused.”
She could drop to her knees in front of him, pull that drawstring waistband under his balls and suck him off.
It wouldn’t be amusing. But it would be a definite thrill a minute.
“Hmm…” she hummed as he bent in and touched his mouth to hers in a sweet greeting. “I was thinking of starting with a martini,” she remarked when he pulled back.
“If there’s nothing else you can get on this man, does that mean you’re done with work for the weekend?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Then it’s the weekend, Simone, so I might make you a drink later, but now I’d like you to walk upstairs, get undressed, and sit naked at the end of our bed with your legs crossed, leaned back into your hands at your sides. In that position, you’ll wait for me to come to you.”
She stared up at him.
He allowed her to do that for a few seconds before he prompted, “Is there something about those instructions you don’t understand?”
“So we’re playing?” she queried.
“Is it the weekend?” he returned.
“Yes,” she answered.
“Then yes, that’s the deal, and obviously play can wait while work needs to get done, but if there is no work to be done, you’re mine.”
You’re mine.
God, that had an amazing ring to it.
He moved so his face was closer to hers.
“Darling, you’re not walking to our room.”
“Right,” she whispered.
He straightened.
She skirted around him.
Her legs were a little wobbly as she made her way to their bedroom.
They were more wobbly, and her breasts felt heavier—her nipples definitely were hard—as she took her clothes off in the walk-in and threw them in the hamper.
She took a minute to check her makeup and hair in the bathroom mirror and add a subtle spray of perfume, then she walked out to the bedroom and sat at the end of the bed like Stellan had instructed.
As she stared at the door, waiting for him to arrive, she could feel the beat of her heart in her neck pulsing right down to her nipples.
And her mind was flashing from thought to thought, imagining what he might do to her.
She’d watched him at play a lot, but this was not a playroom in the Honey or a playroom at all.