Page 3 of Ravage (Dark Desires #1)

YOU'RE PRETTY CURIOUS

CAM

The next night, I’m sitting at my local pub, nursing a beer, waiting for Connell to show up.

When he'd reached out, I assumed it was to make sure Christian and I hadn’t shared anything about the brothel.

We’d clearly had the address, but aside from informing our superiors of the basic details, neither of us had revealed exactly who the man had been with.

Christian had recognised him as a local politician, and we figured we'd rather not get caught up in some sex scandal, seeing as he is married with several teenaged kids.

"Hey, sorry I'm late," Connell says, taking a seat on the stool across from me.

"No worries. I was surprised to hear from you." I hold up my beer. "Want a drink?"

"I've got one coming," he replies, nodding towards the bar.

A tall, dark-haired man is leaning against the bar, watching the bartender pour two whiskeys. He pays and then heads towards us.

I hadn't been expecting anyone else, and there's something about this guy that has me sitting up straighter. I'm able to recognise when another guy is attractive, and this guy is off the charts. The kind of guy my ex would have checked out and then wiggled her eyebrows at me.

"Hey, man. I'm Cam," I say, sticking my hand out to the newcomer when he joins us.

"Mr Collins. Thank you for meeting us," he replies, shaking my hand. His grip is very firm. "Sebastian."

I nod. "Sebastian. Nice to meet you. But it's Cam. Mr Collins is my old man."

He gives a single nod. "Connell tells me you used to work together?"

"That's right. Back in my uni days. Used to work security at a few of the clubs in the city."

"And you're a paramedic now?"

There's something really intense about this guy. It's like he can see right into my soul. I flick a glance towards Connell, before returning my attention to Sebastian.

"Yeah, that's right."

"And that's what brought you to my club yesterday?"

Ah, okay. So this is that Sebastian. I'd forgotten the name Connell had mentioned in the elevator, but I can see it now. This guy oozes sex appeal. Wields it almost like a weapon.

It's a little intoxicating.

"Yeah. But don't worry, my partner and I haven't said anything about what we saw, other than the official stuff. Figured we didn't need the headache, given the patient and all."

Sebastian surveys me for a moment, clearly assessing my sincerity. He must deem me trustworthy, because he eventually nods.

"Thank you for your discretion. Imogen had mentioned you seemed like professionals, and Connell vouched for you, but I wanted to meet you myself."

At the mention of the beautiful brunette from yesterday, I straighten a little, and Sebastian notices, raising an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything on the subject.

"I shall leave you two gentlemen to catch up, then. Connell, I'll see you tomorrow."

He nods his farewell to both of us and heads off, the crowds parting as he moves through it.

Like royalty.

Or a super villain.

Really, either of those could apply to this man.

"Interesting man," I say, exchanging a glance with Connell.

He nods, lifting his glass to his lips. "Yeah, he is."

"How'd you come to work for him?"

He smirks, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "You're pretty curious about the place, aren't you?"

I shrug. "It seemed interesting. Nothing like I'd ever expected a brothel to look like."

Connell stiffens for a moment, before shaking his head. "Sebastian prefers to refer to it as a private club. One that specialises in pleasure."

I smirk. "So... a brothel." I take another sip of my beer, watching Connell squirm.

"Yeah, alright, it's a brothel. But one that only the super-rich can get into. It's exclusive as fuck, and the sex workers who work there are paid extremely well."

I chuckle. "Yeah, the one I saw seemed very well put together."

He smiles. "They all look like that, mate. Hot as fuck, and oozing sex appeal. It was definitely eye opening when I worked my first shift."

"How'd you get the job?"

"I met Sebastian when I worked as a contractor at one of his bars in the city. He's got his finger in so many fucking pies. But after a while, he worked out I could be discreet, so he invited me to attend one of the club nights. Think it was his test to see how open-minded I was. "

My smirk grows. "I take it you passed?"

He hesitates for a moment. "Well, he definitely worked out I could be discreet.”

I guess that's the closest I'm going to get to asking whether he'd slept with any of the sex workers.

"So, what happens at the club nights?"

He cocks his head to the side. "Not something I can talk about. But I'm sure you can imagine."

I nod, a little disappointed, but it's understandable that he has to maintain the trust his boss has in him.

And he's right. My imagination is forming all sorts of scenarios right now. Pretty sure I'm going to be beating one out later while I imagine enjoying those scenarios with Imogen.

The conversation moves on to what we've both been up to since we last worked together. Connell had been studying business at uni when I knew him, but I guess private security pays better.

"What about you? Still with Peta?" he asks, after telling me he went through a nasty divorce just before starting at the club.

"Nah, we broke up a few years ago. She ah... she cheated on me."

"Fuck man, that sucks."

I shrug. "It is what it is. It was shit though, cause she often talked about inviting another man into our bed, but had never followed through, even though I'd not shot down the idea. Guess she meant without me."

"Were you guys married?"

I shake my head, draining the last of my beer. "Engaged, but thank God I didn't have to fork out for a wedding before she crapped all over our relationship."

"True. I try not to think about that. Janine insisted on a ridiculously expensive wedding, drained my life savings, and then two years later, it was over."

I cringe. "It's enough to put you off ever settling down again, right? "

"Fuck yeah it is. I'll be avoiding that at all costs, from now on."

I grin. "Guess it doesn't hurt you're surrounded by beautiful women who seem onboard with a good time."

Connell shakes his head, giving me a wry smile. "I keep it strictly business. After that first night... Yeah, I get my rocks off elsewhere."

"Probably a good idea."

We call it a night half an hour later, walking out to the parking lot together. I take note of the black Mercedes SUV he walks to.

I let out a low whistle. "Geez man, nice wheels." I'm a little ashamed of my beat-up Land Cruiser, but at least I own it outright.

Connell grins. "Like I said... Sebastian pays well."

We bid each other goodnight, and I climb into my car, watching with only a small amount of envy as he peels out of the lot in his fancy wheels.

While it would be nice to have that kind of cash to splash around, I'm happy with my job.

Doesn't mean I'm not thinking about what it would be like to attend one of those club nights, though.

The next day, I'm on the night shift with Christian.

Saturday nights are usually the busiest of the week, but this one is particularly full on as there's a music festival on and we're run off our feet, ferrying drunken idiots to the hospital.

We've already had to cart two teenagers in to get their stomachs pumped.

"Thank God we didn't get stuck in the tent," Christian mutters, as we pull up outside the gate of the festival for the third time in four hours.

We'd been stuck on the ramp for an hour with the last patient, and we were just getting back in the truck to get some dinner when the call came through to come back .

"Dunno. We'd probably get some food if we were in there, at least," I grumble.

"True. Living the dream, mate. Living the fucking dream."

We've developed a rather cynical outlook on life over the past few years, and have little sympathy for the patients that end up in our truck due to drugs and alcohol.

Six months ago, Christian had to take medical leave after one junkie came at him with a knife and tore his arm open.

That had been a rough day, but thankfully, we'd survived it, and it's good to have him back at my side.

"I reckon I'd take an old guy with a heart problem in a brothel, right about now," he continues as he pushes the stretcher along beside me.

"Yeah, I think I would, too."

"That place was pretty epic. Wish we could have seen more of it. Don't think I'll ever get a chance to be in a place that fancy again."

I chuckle. "You never know. Place like that probably sees a few old men in over their heads."

We go through the motions with the twenty-year-old girl who apparently decided today was the day to try ecstasy and discovered it maybe wasn't so fun to do drugs, while our colleagues try to calm her hysterical friend down.

We end up taking the friend with us too, and as we're heading back down the ramp at the hospital an hour later, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

I fish it out, stepping to the side so Christian can climb into the truck and secure the stretcher once again.

Connell

Got any plans on Friday night?

I quirk an eyebrow, surprised to see a message from him again. I'd gotten the impression last night was more of an official visit, making sure I was going to keep my mouth shut.

Cam

Nope, free as a bird. Why?

Connell

We've had someone pull out of club night. Boss thought you might be interested.

My eyebrows shoot upwards.

Cam

Not sure if you're aware of how shit the pay is for paramedics, but I think it might be a little outside what I can afford.

Connell

Nah, man. There're no refunds when people pull out, so no cost to you. Consider it a thank you for your discretion. Your partner is free to come along, too.

I look over at where Christian is packing things back into place. He's happily married, with two young kids at home. No way am I asking him if he wants to come check out a sex club.

But me? I've got nothing to lose.

Cam

I'm in. Just me, though. Not Christian's scene.

Connell

No worries. A car will pick you up at nine. Best to wear a suit .

I pocket my phone again and try to push the thought of entering the club as a client out of my mind. I'm not paying a cent, so it's not like I'll be paying for sex...

It's gonna be a hell of a week, and plenty of time to talk myself out of it.