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A fingerprint scanner is built into the door handle, the machine chirping when Ryker’s print is recognized.

I follow them through the door, and my brows shoot up my forehead. I’ve walked into a bachelor’s wet dream.

The room is gigantic and completely open, with the ceiling scaling up at least a hundred feet. The entire area is washed in browns and blacks and made up of only four walls. A staircase on the far right leads to a balcony that completely circles the building, housing dozens of doors and a black elevator on the back left side. The upper four floors have their own floating balconies, too, and I wonder what the fuck do they need all this space for.

Scratch that—I don’t care.

Oh, but I might care about that. A massive vault is straight ahead, the door painted black. My curiosity piques, wondering what’s beyond it.

I whistle, impressed and maybe even a tad jealous of their get-up.

“Human organs pay well, don’t they?” I muse.

“Shut up,” Kace bites out, heading for one of the black leather couches where a shirtless Daire lounges casually, knees spread wide.

I do a double take when I see a chain coiled around his hand, leading directly to a collar fastened around a girl’s throat, who is currently kneeling at his feet. Only a black band covers her tits, the rest of her body is fully exposed. Her head is bowed, and her hands rest neatly on her pale thighs. A curtain of black hair obscures her face from view, and I can’t tell if that’s intentional or not.

I think Addie would sooner rip my balls off before she’d ever kneel at my feet. Lucky for her, I’d gladly kneel at hers. Kiss her little toes while I’m at it, too. Eventually, my mouth would lead up between her legs, but I don’t think she’d mind that part.

Daire grins at me, the piercings above his brow glinting from the crackling flames in the fireplace next to him. He doesn’t look the least bit bothered by my presence, though that doesn’t erase the spark of challenge in his eyes.

Slade sits on the opposite side, his dark blond head turning to glare at me over the top of the couch.

Such hostility.

“I’ve agreed to help him,” Ryker announces, taking a seat beside Daire. He doesn’t even glance at the girl, and I assume he’s used to Daire’s sexual habits by now.

“Yeah? What’s he doing for us?” Slade asks, his question directed at his brother, yet his dark eyes stay glued to me.

“Oh,” I say, holding up a finger for them to hang on. I twist around until I find a piece of paper and pen on an end table, write the letters I, O, U on it, and hand it to him.

He looks at the paper with bewilderment, turning his glare back up to me.

“First off, don't write on people’s shit. Secondly, you’re fucking kidding me, right? We don’t need you.”

I grin. Is he nervous that I might find hemorrhoid cream on his receipts, too? He should know I don’t need a piece of paper to tell me what Slade spends his money on.

“You can act like my skills wouldn’t benefit the business you four are

conducting, but that won’t get you very far.”

He crumples the paper and throws it in the fire, and I can’t help but chuckle in response. Their attitudes don’t bother me—it’s expected when a stranger comes busting into their lives making demands.

But they will fucking help me, whether they want to or not.

“You’ll have to let me know the source of these rumors,” Ryker cuts in. “The last thing we want is word getting out.”

“I’ll point you to the forums they’re posted on. You can handle it from there, yeah?”

Ryker nods. “They’re dangerous.”

“Because they’re true,” I finish, already understanding the ramifications that can have. They have a process, and it’s built off their reputation.

“You trust him?” Slade asks, raising a brow.

Ryker shrugs, unconcerned. “There’s one of him, and four of us.”

My top lip pulls over my teeth, just as unconcerned. I settle into the couch next to Slade, earning a glare that I dutifully ignore. Not hard when it’s like a chihuahua growling at you.