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NINETY-EIGHT

XERO

Multiple orgasms were another thing Amethyst underlined in our sex contract, and I made sure to deliver. By the time I finished with her, she was sobbing openly for mercy and yelling something about seeing stars.

Our time was up, so I cut her down from the ceiling and helped her back into her corset and into a spare pair of panties. After getting dressed and disconnecting the drive containing our recordings, I carried her out of the trailer, where Scroggins informed me that Nocturne had already left.

I have an appointment with him tomorrow evening at the Stargazer on 5th and Main to discuss membership over a cup of coffee. In case he’s meeting several potential guests throughout the day, I’ll have people surrounding the place when it opens.

Amethyst deserves lavish aftercare after such a heavy scene. I would take her to a nearby hotel for a long soak, but she’s a wanted woman. Technically, so am I. Instead, I bundle her in the car and drive her to the stone bath at the old rectory, where we relaxed after our first time together.

Once inside, I carry her to the steaming bath and peel off her clothes. She’s a vision, my goddess, my everything. Her body trembles under my touch, but I can see the trust in her eyes, a trust I will never betray. I lower her into the warm water, reveling in her sweet sigh. Sliding in behind her, I cradle her between my legs and wrap my arms around her waist.

“You were magnificent tonight,” I murmur, my voice low and filled with reverence.

She sighs at my words, her body molding into mine. I run my hands over her smooth skin, rinsing away the intensity of the night. Her heartbeat slows, syncing with mine as we exchange slow, sensual kisses.

Tonight lives up to every fantasy I had while I was on Death Row.

“You belong to me,” I whisper against her lips. “No one will ever hurt you again. I will destroy anyone who dares to come between me and what’s mine.”

As my hands continue their journey across her delectable little body, she surrenders to my touch. My little ghost moans in all the right places, despite her exhaustion.

My lips brush her ear, making her shiver. “Every moment with you is a gift, every touch a privilege. You’re intoxicating—my perfect match.”

“Really?” She arches her back.

Her fingers dig into my thighs. I smile, knowing I’ve claimed every part of her, body and soul. As her heartbeat steadies, we linger in the bath, lost in our private bubble. The water cools, but the heat between us remains.

After helping her out of the bath, I carry her to the dressing room and wrap her in a soft towel, making sure to dry her with the care and attention she deserves.

“We’re bound,” I say, our gazes locking. “In this life and the next, you are mine.”

Her lips curve into a smile, and for a moment, the world feels suspended in her bliss. Amethyst is my everything, and I will guard her with my life. Minutes pass, and the weight of my promise settles deep within my soul.

Gathering her in my arms again, I take her back to the crawlspace and watch her sleep. I lose track of time, lost in the wonder of her presence, until my phone buzzes, jolting me back to reality. The screen flashes with an incoming call from Tyler .

“Report,” I whisper as I walk out into the hallway and pull the door closed.

“After you mentioned that the screen room was outside, I arranged for a drone to fly over Melrose Manor. Did you know their tour bus is registered to X-Cite Media?”

My feet come to an abrupt stop. “What?”

“Yeah, but it’s fourteen years old, which coincides with the time Nocturne sold the company to Delta and went to prison.”

I continue walking to the divider between number 15 and 13. “Any further leads on Nocturne’s identity?”

“The recruiter or content manager doesn’t know anything more. We’ve tried everything, but Nocturne was careful with his paper trail.”

As I continue into Mrs. Baker’s crawlspace and through the tunnel leading into the catacombs, Tyler updates me on the information his team gathered from the Ministry of Mayhem. He’s already cross-referenced the registrations of the cars parked around the tour bus, and he hacked into the online booking service they used to collect ticket payments.

“Guess what?” He doesn’t give me a chance to speculate. “The Land Rover attached to that trailer is registered to Melonie Crowley. It looks like Nocturne and Delta are working together.”

My jaw clenches. “Or, Dolly is teaming up with Nocturne to take down Delta.”

I hesitate, picturing Amethyst’s mother going against a man like Father. Everything I’ve seen and heard from that woman indicates a highly strung personality, not cool-headed enough to execute a drawn-out plan.

“Third option, and it’s a longshot. Harlan Stills beat the lie detector and Nocturne is Delta.”

Tyler barks a laugh. “A stay in prison might explain why he’s been quiet for a few years.”

“Nothing is impossible,” I mutter. “Anything else?”

Tyler updates me on the team’s progress. Jynxson will tail the Land Rover, while the others have split up into groups to follow the tour bus and tail members whose names are associated with New Alderney’s major crime consortiums.One of them has to lead to Nocturne. Or Father, if they’re one and the same .

I continue through the catacombs to a control room, where Tyler sits at an L-shaped desk with his two assistants, Calvin and Denise, operatives we poached from the firm’s IT department.

Its walls are stone, as are most chambers within the catacombs, except every wall is covered with monitors displaying feeds. Each feed shows live surveillance footage from cameras positioned all over the city, including the tour bus and Land Rover.

Denise twirls around and flashes me a grin. “Hey, Xero. Number 13 went up for sale with the Mancini Real Estate and Auction Company. The virtual tour is already up online, and the open house days are tomorrow and the day after. Do you want to make a pre-auction offer?”

I rub the back of my neck. “Let’s see if we can take out the seller before the auction even starts. We don’t need to buy something Amethyst might inherit in a few days.”

She snickers. “Good plan.”

Calvin holds up an envelope. “This arrived while you were at the club.”

“Another one?” I snarl.

“As usual, it’s addressed to ‘Bitch,’” he says.

I take the envelope and slip it into my pocket. There’s no point in souring my mood tonight with a picture of a tortured and naked child.

Their phone rings. “It’s Jynxson,” says Calvin. “He just followed the Land Rover downtown into an underground parking lot.”

I turn to the monitors. “Which one is his feed?”

“Patching him onto the big screen,” Denise says.

The largest monitor comes to life, revealing the vehicle pulling into a dimly lit lot. Each space is numbered, indicating that we’ve followed the driver into an apartment building.

“Put Jynxson on speaker.” I lower myself into a spare seat.

“He’s just parked at 113 Metro Tower,” Jynxson says.

“He?” I ask.

“Male and female occupants,” Jynxson answers. “Following him into the apartment building at this time of the night is going to be tricky. Permission to render them unconscious. ”

“Granted,” I mutter.

The three of us stare into the screen, watching two shadowy figures in the Land Rover’s front seat kissing. I hold my breath, waiting for the couple to exit.

Seconds pass, and the couple continues their passionate embrace, making me discount the theory that Nocturne could be Father. The man was cold and austere. I never once saw him hug his legitimate sons, let alone his wife, and he sure as hell didn’t demonstrate any sentimentality.

“Hold on,” Jynxson says. “I’m moving in.”

The footage jostles as he exits the car. He sneaks across the parking lot to the vehicle and takes position with a tranq gun.

Calvin waves a hand. “Another message just came in from Alderney Hill. There’s movement outside Melonie Crowley’s house.”

“What?” I hiss. “Put them on speaker.”

“It’s Camila,” says a female voice. “I’m parked close to the front gates. Their garden lights just came on. Permission to enter the premises?”

I don’t know what to fucking think. Was Amethyst’s mother at the club? “Granted, but take backup.”

“Copy that,” Camila says.

I turn my attention back to the screen where Jynxson crouches in wait for the couple to emerge from the Land Rover. Leaning forward in my seat, I narrow my eyes. The vehicle’s engine goes silent and the headlights dim.

“Looks like they’re about to exit,” Jynxson murmurs into the mic.

The vehicle’s door opens. A medium-height man exits, and his stature isn’t anywhere close to Father’s. My heart sinks. So much for my theory of him being Nocturne.

Jynxson fires the dart into the man’s shoulder. He crumples to the ground without a sound. The passenger side door flies open, and the woman inside scrambles out, looking nothing like Amethyst or her mother.

She screams.

A tranquilizer dart lands in her chest before she even completes her sentence, and she slumps on the ground beside the vehicle. Jynxson rushes to the fallen bodies.

I rise off my seat. “Who the fuck are these people?”

“Give me a minute,” Jynxson mutters. “The male is Arthur Scroggins.” He pauses for a beat, the way he does before making a punchline.

“Get on with it,” I snarl.

“Bald, stocky, and carrying a bottle of Armagnac?” he asks, his voice light with amusement.

“Fuck. That club attendant?” I say through clenched teeth. “And the woman?”

“Dr. Monica Saint.”

“That’s the psychiatrist you asked me to research,” Tyler says. I turn to him for a progress report, and he shrugs. “I hacked into her system and found no records of Amethyst or Melonie Crowley.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Bring them in. I want to know why they’re using her car and how the fuck they’re connected to Delta, Nocturne, and X-Cite Media.”

“Xero?” says Camila’s voice. “I’ve got a man in a tuxedo entering through the back door.”

My breath hitches. The chances of him being connected to the Ministry of Mayhem are high. “Is he alone?”

“Yes.”

“Take him down,” I reply. “Bring him to a cell close to Tyler’s room.”

There’s a moment’s pause before she says, “Done.”

I grind my teeth. Where the fuck did Amethyst’s mother disappear to?

Amethyst’s psychiatrist is driving a car registered to her mother, and the man who set up tomorrow’s meeting with Nocturne is involved with the psychiatrist. Add to the mix the photo I found of Father at her parents’ dinner party and it spells one hell of a conspiracy.