Page 2 of Cruel Debts (Killers of Port Wylde #4)
ONE
ASHER
“Asher, for fuck’s sake, why the hell did you bring us here?”
I rubbed my temples as we stood in line, waiting for the damn doorman to check everyone’s IDs and move us along. “It wasn’t my decision. Look at Hawke, okay?”
The birdbrain in question stood arguing with the bouncer about the height on his ID, a back-and-forth that was going nowhere fast. Part of the allure of the sex club scene was the anonymity, and this asshole was making it hard to fly under the radar.
Every so often, he’d glance back at us, waiting for someone to come to his defense, but there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell I was going to stick my nose in his little pissing contest.
Of course, that meant that Liam would. He pulled his wallet out and slid the poor bouncer a crisp hundred, which the man gleefully took with a greedy grin and a nod in the doorman’s direction.
When the man tried to stop Hawke and I, Liam gestured in a circle in our direction. “Nah, fam, all three, or you can slip me back that c-note I just gave you.”
His partner nodded again, and suddenly, we were inside, the doors sliding shut to cut off the sound of the rest of the line loudly complaining behind us.
I grabbed Hawke by the back of the collar and yanked him to me, snarling in his ear as Liam forged ahead.
“You pull any more shit like that and you’re on your own, asshole.
” My hand made a nice crack as it connected with the side of his head.
“We’re supposed to set an example and keep a low profile.
You’re out here acting like you’re fresh out of the frat house. ”
“Alright, alright,” he whined, rubbing his scalp, “I get it, man. Jeez, you don’t have to be such a prick.”
“You haven’t seen me act like a prick yet,” I pointed out as I accepted a nondescript black mask from the girl at the desk. “But you will if you don’t get moving.”
“You know, you could suck the fun out of a wet dream, Asher,” he complained, marching into the fray to promptly lose me. I didn’t mind, though. He was here to circulate and have fun.
I was here to scope out a new contact for a future contract I hoped to land.
The Goldmine was a BDSM/sex club where the citizens of Port Wylde could mingle and fuck—anonymously, of course—without worry that their escapades would get them unwanted attention.
There were people from all walks of life here—from politicians and police to normies and tourists alike.
People came from miles around to visit the renowned sex dungeon.
And I was here to see its owner, Minnie Huang.
I held out my pin as I slid up to the bar, side-eyeing the office door I knew I’d find her behind.
“I’m here for your boss,” I offered the confused bartender, and he simply took the pin and walked away, huddled over the back counter with what looked like a security guard.
Their eyes shot back to me as they inspected the pin, no doubt worried about the authenticity.
They didn’t know their boss was expecting me.
St. Clair had sent word ahead to watch for me, and Minnie had responded with a warm welcome—well, as warm as one could get when life had run you ragged and left you managing a whorehouse, so to speak.
The bartender took longer than I expected to finally wander back with a scowl on his face.
He handed me back the pin with an attitude, his upper lip curling in a sneer.
“Here’s your little brooch back, bucko. I guess you’re welcome to head into the office.
But you’d better watch yourself, you hear? Security is top-notch here.”
I lifted the corner of my shirt and showed him the pistol tucked in my waistband.
“If I wanted to shoot someone, I’d have brought my other gun.
” When he flinched back and moved to reach behind the counter, I shook a single finger at him in warning.
“Now, now, your boss knows I don’t go anywhere unarmed.
You’d do well to watch yourself around an original Guild member. ”
He really looked at me like he thought I was kidding. I might have a good sense of humor, but I most certainly was not joking tonight.
When the security guard stepped in between me and the office door, I’d had enough.
“Tell your boss to come get me herself, before I kill you and step over your bleeding husk of a body on the way in.”
He puffed up his chest, acting tough. Maybe he thought that because I was leaner than him, I was a pushover.
I was not.
In about ten seconds, I had him on the floor, his arm bent up behind him as he groaned from the pain.
My knee pressed insistently into the curve of his spine, and I leaned over him, snarling with the pent-up anger from standing in line for over two hours just to put my foot in the door.
“You are messing with the wrong fucking man, you half-rate rent-a-cop. Now pull your nightstick out of your twat and step the fuck back.”
The office door swung open, and out strode the shortest, most lethal little firecracker imported straight out of the East.
“Are you making a mess in my club, ?”
With her hands on her tiny waist, Minnie Huang stood at a whopping five feet, her jet-black hair filled with streaks of pink and red done up into an intricate braid she’d wrapped around her head like a halo.
Her eyes, however, were filled with the devil incarnate, and she glared at me like I was a puppy who’d just pissed on her favorite designer rug.
Reluctantly, I released her man, letting him rise from the floor as he winced and flexed his sore muscles.
I jerked my body in his direction, earning a flinch as Minnie stood there with a disappointed look on her face.
Her thin lips drew down in a moue of disapproval at the scuffle, and just like that, I was being dragged into the office by a woman half my size, the door once again slamming shut behind me.
She stormed over to her desk, sat on the edge, and crossed her arms pointedly. “Why is it that every time one of you fucking Guild-ies comes in here, you make a mess of things?”
She gave me the boyish urge to rub my neck in shame. Thankfully, I’d had that bred out of me years ago. Instead, I stood my ground, like I knew Lilly expected of me. People like Minnie only respected strength and determination. Well, that and utter disregard for the law.
“You know why I’m here. We’re trying to track down a group of men responsible for human trafficking and the sale of stolen body parts.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And you think they’re holed up in my house?”
“No.” From the inside of my jacket, I pulled out a letter from Lilly detailing the contract we were considering taking on. It had come from someone way up the chain, someone who couldn’t afford to be outed. But people like Minnie understood discretion and confidentiality.
Well, that and blackmail.
“The mayor of Nocturna Beach put out a wanted list for every man in that file. They’re solely responsible for the missing girls from his Red Light district, one of whom was a relative of his.
He can’t actively order the death of the people responsible, but he can pay us to take care of it.
” I handed her a second file, with intel on her business, and the illegal shit I knew she was doing behind the scenes.
Nothing serious, just some tax evasion and blackmail of clients for cash.
“I could hand over the things we know about you to the authorities, though we both know you’ve likely already paid them off.
But some people might not take too kindly to knowing their information isn’t entirely safe in your hands. ”
Now she was really scowling. “So you’re here to blackmail me.”
“Not at all. I’m here to encourage you to let us plant a few informants in the club, on a nightly basis, to report back on movements of these targets of mine.
” I slipped the files back out of her hands, unwilling to let her keep her sharp eyes on them a second longer.
“Lilly St. Clair is asking for full cooperation, and in return, she’ll offer any services you might need, within reason. ”
Minnie’s brows rose. “If I need someone killed?”
I pretended not to care. “Those details are between you and my boss. I’m just the messenger boy tonight.”
“Okay then, messenger boy,” she huffed, pulling three colored silicone bands out of her back pocket. “You and your buddies are welcome to enjoy the special feature on the house tonight, provided you stay out of trouble. I’ll be in touch with your boss soon to discuss the arrangement.”
I tipped my head to her with a wink and a smile, playing nice guy now. “Of course, Miss Minnie. We appreciate your cooperation.”
“Yeah, yeah, now get out of here,” she grumbled, waving me out the door. “Ugh, should have never gone out drinking with fucking St. Clair.”
The club was set up quite nicely, with a main floor for people who wanted to dance and mingle, and a basement, where the space was divided up into several rooms. There was a hallway to the back where I found none other than Liam and Hawke, their noses practically touching the glass that offered them a view of a feature room—the one, from what it looked like, that these special wristbands would get us into.
“What are you idiots gawking at?” I asked as people moved out of my way, subconsciously reading me for the dangerous man I was on vibes alone. “Didn’t your mothers teach you it’s rude to stare?”
Hawke shook his hair from his eyes, a hand reaching down to readjust himself. “Their feature performance is a girl doing full-body latex painting.” He jammed a finger against the glass, and I turned my attention to the woman in question, my eyes widening as I took in the scene.
A gorgeous, short, petite girl in what had to be five-inch heels marched around the room with a paintbrush between her teeth, her long, vibrant-colored hair tied up in a messy bun that already showed splotches of paint here and there among the strands.
She was dressed in nothing but her own artwork, skin dotted with every color of the rainbow as she circled her current canvas—a tall, muscular man whose cock stood at an attention that would have made my old drill sergeants proud.
He was dotted with lazy whorls and swoops of blue and green, and around the base of his cock, she’d started drawing what looked like a kraken, complete with tentacles and a set of jet-black eyes.
That was some impressive art. Not that I cared for the canvas, but the skill in the painting itself was commendable.
Although what the fuck an artist of that caliber was doing whittling away her time in a sex club was a mystery.
“Alright, folks, it’s time to draw the number of the next lucky band holder!
” A woman in front in kitten heels and a sexy lingerie set held out a basket for her twin to reach into, shaking the little pieces of paper inside for added effect.
It was then that I realized our bands had digits emblazoned on them—002, 006, and 010.
I handed off two to Hawke and Liam and slipped the remaining one on my wrist with a sigh.
It wasn’t like I ever got picked for these things, anyhow. With any luck, Hawke would get bored, find some rando to shack up with, and we’d all get to go back to the Guild and get some much-needed sleep before we had to return to work.
Things were never dull at the Guild. Not with St. Clair in charge, at least.
“And our lucky winner is number zero-zero six!”
I glanced down at my wristband and swore.
Shit.
006.