Page 6

CHAPTER 5

C assandra

“Ten days, baby. Ten days and we finally get your tight pussy drilled.”

I spit out a huge gulp of coffee, barely missing my computer screen, choking from sucking a good half ounce into my nose. I scrambled to grab a handful of tissues from the holder on my credenza before the liquid stained the file I’d been working on. Penny Parker was definitely one of the few women who could make me snort a liquid under any circumstances.

“What?” I managed and blotted the surface.

“You heard me. It’s been four desert-dry months for you. Four months of your best friends hearing you whine about that deadbeat ex-prick that you carried on your back. When you rewarded your besties with an appearance.”

“Ha. Ha. You know I was working night and day on that case.” That case. The one that had almost broken me. The one where the killer had been awarded bail and had attempted to stalk me. Thankfully, I’d been prepared for his one stupid mistake and the police had swept in like vultures. The fucker was going to rot in prison for the rest of his life.

“That’s right. Congratulations are in order. I read all about it with my morning coffee. Another reason you can’t say no.”

“Remind me what I’m not saying no to.” I’d literally run into Penny when I’d attempted to unlock the wrong door of a brownstone that looked exactly like mine. Only my front porch steps were devoid of any life while hers looked like a photograph in Better Homes and Gardens .

I’d been too absorbed in whatever case I’d been working on to notice.

I’d been so confused that she’d invited me in for a glass of wine. I’d accepted and we’d been fast friends ever since.

But goddamn, was she a pushy bitch.

She had one thing going for her other than her not-so-subtle mouth, the fact she was a world-renowned interior designer. Without her, I’d still be living in college eclectic.

“The hot charity auction? All proceeds go to the network for underprivileged children, my favorite organization?”

“You hate kids.”

“Not if they belong to someone else. Besides, every child deserves a nice home, a loving family, food to eat, and presents.”

“I think you have a few priorities a bit mixed up. When is it?” I pulled out my iPad, which often controlled my life.

“A week from Saturday. You are coming. Period. We bought you a ticket.”

We meant the other partner in crime, Josie Dannon, a crazy loon who reminded me why I kept my head screwed on tight. “Fine. I’ll be there. Just tell me when and where.” I made a notation on the calendar. Maybe since the case was finished, I could finally get back to some aspect of a social life.

“I’ll send you an email. Just remember, it’s a masquerade party so you can be anyone you want to be.”

Smirking, I glanced at my reflection in my office window. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. Pretending to be someone else.

“Plus, think of all the hot, eligible, and rich men you can bid on.” She was practically singing.

“Ah, no.”

“Come on. It’ll get your mind off David, and don’t you dare try and tell me you haven’t been thinking about him.”

Not necessarily on purpose. However, I’d caught his picture splashed across the internet a few days before at some huge media event. He’d been wining and dining with some New York Times best-selling author. They’d seemed close. Very close. If you asked me, I’d say the bastard had tossed aside his boss for a new flavor of the month.

“Rat ass bastard,” I huffed.

“See? You need this and I’m not going to allow you to say no. I know where you live, remember?”

“Only because you live in the same building. I think it’s time I moved.”

Penny laughed. “Ha. You couldn’t stay away from me if you tried.”

That was probably very true.

A knock on my door drew my attention away from the window.

Cash stuck his head in, making a face as he did every single time he walked into my office. The man was creative as hell.

“You know my budget won’t allow for extra spending,” I told her.

“I know. Saving for that beach house. By the time you decide on the right piece of property, you’ll be old and gray.”

“You are such a bitch!”

She laughed. “Maybe you’ll have a chance to bid on the bargain basement variety of men. You know. Construction workers and lifeguards. Oh, hold on here. That sounds perfect. They have the best, buff bodies and are the kind of men you can fuck and walk away from. Well, if you can walk after they stick their big, fat dicks in you six or seven times.”

“You are incorrigible.”

Penny purred. “I am, aren’t I?”

Cash was actively making faces at me. The guy was a goofball, but with the treacherous work we did, I was thankful for his camaraderie.

“Can Cash come?” I asked, being naughty.

Cash narrowed his bushy eyebrows as he walked closer.

“Of course he can. I’m certain he can give us a few tips on the hottest of men.”

“Send me the email. Now, I need to do some actual work.”

She laughed. “Ta-ta.”

I shook my head as I tossed my phone onto my desk.

“What am I going to?” he asked.

“How about a hot male charity auction?”

He frowned. “I don’t know. I just hooked up with a hottie myself. He’s a sizzling doctor. I’m not sure I’m ready to two-time him just yet.”

“You are one bad boy. Teach me a few things. What’s up? I thought we had a quiet day.”

“You’re being summoned by Mr. Wells.” As always, Cash scrunched up his face. Maximus Wells was a gruff man and had headed the prosectors’ office for ages. He kept threatening to retire, but so far, he hadn’t committed to doing so.

Maybe because he was a control freak.

I sighed on purpose. “Since when did you become my secretary?”

“Since he caught me in the men’s bathroom. I guess he knows we’re close.”

“Just like two peas in a pod. Was he in a good mood?”

We’d heard the aging man yelling at a young attorney only a few weeks before. Granted, the idiot deserved it for almost getting a case tossed out and it was a good reminder the man still had spunk.

“I couldn’t tell. Let’s just say nondescript.”

“Fine. After dealing with Reginald Baker, I think I need a little nondescript. But if he’s a grouch, I can handle him.”

“Just like you did Baker the Butcher.”

I hated the moniker, the press glorifying Reginald’s heinous crimes as if the man was a celebrity. No, they hadn’t condoned his torture and murder, but any press was like injecting sugar straight into the man’s veins. I’d learned a great deal about myself during the case and about men in general.

And I’d decided dating would remain off the table for a few more months.

“You’re right.” I grabbed my iPad for notes, smoothed down my skirt, and grabbed a handful of Tic Tacs.

“Head up, girl. You are the star prosecutor in this town as of this morning.”

“Yeah, well. I could do with a little rest.” I laughed and headed out of my office. Maybe a day off would be just what I needed.

I strolled toward the elevator, trying to relax as I rode up the three flights to the top offices. Once on the floor, the receptionist waved me back. At least we’d had coffee a few times and she’d tipped me off on moods from time to time.

I knocked on the partially open door.

“Come in, Cassandra. Close the door after you.”

Mr. Wells’ voice wasn’t gruff at all, but serious. I headed toward his desk and he ushered me to take a seat.

“Would you like some coffee?” he asked.

“Honestly, I’ve had more coffee in the last five months than I ever want to see again.”

He chuckled. “You did a fabulous job with the Baker prosecution. I know it was a tragic and draining case, but you stuck to your guns. You showed diplomacy, cunning, and lack of fear. The case truly highlighted your qualifications.”

Why did he make it sound as if I was applying for a job? “Thank you, sir.”

“I won’t beat around the bush as I’m certain you’d like to finish up whatever paperwork and enjoy a night off.”

“Yes, I would.” I laughed.

“I have a special case I want you to work on and I think you’re the only one who can really get into the nitty gritty of it.”

“A case?” Great. If it was something Mr. Wells was working on, then it could be another one that took months. I preferred the nice, easy ‘wham, bam, thank you, ma’am’ cases that were a week or two, tops.

“Yes, but not what you’re thinking. Call it more of an investigative situation.”

“O-kay. You have me intrigued.”

He picked up a file from his desk, handing it to me. Once I accepted it, he walked toward one of his floor-to-ceiling windows, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stared out at the Chicago skyline.

I shook my head before opening it. The Blackwell Group. The name rang a bell, but I had no idea from where. What I found were mostly printed pieces found on Google or copies of articles written for Forbes and Fortune magazines. A highly successful gaming company. From what I read, there was nothing outstanding other than they had the entire market in the palms of their hands and made money hand over fist.

“What am I looking at here?” I finally asked.

“What you aren’t seeing is who the men truly are.”

“Go on.”

He turned around. “Have you ever heard of the Obsidian Society?”

“Um… No.”

“Most people haven’t because the three owners of the company have tried very hard to keep it the dark secret that it is. It’s a very exclusive, private society where the potential members are required to pass certain tests.”

“Tests. Okay. That’s not so unusual,” I told him.

His laugh sent a set of shivers down my spine. “I’m not talking about a basic personality test. I’m talking about questions regarding the deepest, darkest parts of you. If passed, then it’s followed by various games that mirror their highly popular Dark Nights.”

“I don’t play video games.”

“Then you should learn. It’s a virtual reality game so real that there are dozens of disclaimers, but even then, they’ve been sued several times from players being nearly scared to death or acting on their sexual proclivities.”

I took a few seconds to think about what he was suggesting. “Are you telling me these contestants are forced into these contests?”

“Oh, no. They agree. Many of them vie for the opportunity. I’ve heard rumors of very conniving behavior prior to becoming a contestant.”

“Any other tests?”

“All of this is hearsay based on a single article written about the Obsidian Society and some chatter on the dark web, but the follow-up tests involve real life scenarios that some would consider mirroring those of a violent or sexual criminal.”

I leaned forward in my seat. “Like what?”

“Primal hunts. Abduction. Caging. To name a few.”

“Why in God’s name would anyone agree to something so disturbing?”

“For the payout including a job with the Blackwell Group, money, lavish gifts. Again, that’s based on conjecture, but I truly think the men are evil enough they are capable of craving that kind of power. Holding lives in their hands.”

I had the distinct feeling there was much more going on with this, but I didn’t know where to begin to ask. “What are you looking for, Mr. Wells?”

“Confirmation they’re using blackmail, extortion, threats, even kidnapping some of their enemies. Without any former contestants being willing to talk, we can’t get anywhere.”

“Why would the contestants talk if they were given a golden key?”

His smile was as if I’d just passed a test. “I’m not talking about the contestants who won. My guess is at least one of their enemies attempted to slide past the gatekeepers to learn trade secrets.”

An interesting thought, but the entire situation was far-fetched.

“What exactly is it that you want me to do?” I was feeling more and more uncomfortable about the entire situation. And not just from the perspective of whether or not the owners of the Blackwell Group were capable of some atrocities.

“Whatever you can to take a real look inside. Find a source. Talk to some people. Whatever it takes, you have my full blessing.”

“Is this personal, if you don’t mind me asking?”

There was something much darker about the way he was looking at me and for a few seconds, my skin crawled. “The three owners are vile, evil creatures, Cassandra. While not proven, it appears they each killed at least one member of their respective foster families but were never charged even as minors.”

Wow, his vehemence caught me off guard.

“Why would they do that? Abuse?”

“In all three cases? Highly unlikely, but their birth father was a true monster.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because he was a serial killer, his methods of mutilation and death ten times more violent and calculating than Baker the Butcher. Now, are you interested?”

He knew how much killers fascinated me.

The glimmer was back in his eyes. I wanted to tell him I’d think about it, but he was offering me a chance at proving my worth in another way. However, my instincts were screaming this was something I shouldn’t do. “I don’t know, Mr. Wells. I’m not a true investigator.”

“Prosecutors make the best investigators, Ms. Penticoff, simply because they can look at everything objectively with aspects of the law in the back of their minds.”

“Can I think about it? I do have some cases that I had to put on the back burner because of the Baker case.”

“Of course, my dear. Take a couple days.”

“Thank you.” I stood up and handed him back the file, realizing I hadn’t taken a single note. I started to walk away when he exhaled.

“I also wanted to remind you that the higher-ups are having a meeting next week. We need to select and groom the new generation before I retire. Perhaps you remember that you’re on the short list.”

I’ll be damned if the man hadn’t just thrown a carrot in my face like I was some damn horse. Or lackey. My hackles were raised. Whatever he was looking for was entirely personal. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate that. I’ll let you know about the case tomorrow.”

“Excellent.”

As soon as I walked out, I felt a burst of anger. The man was baiting me and that only solidified how I felt about men.

Damn them all to hell.

I was all fired up by the time I walked down the hallway, catching sight of Cash in the breakroom. When he noticed my face, he came flying after me, yanking me back into the empty space.

“What in God’s name did he say to you?” His eyes swept back and forth across mine.

“It’s more about what he dangled in front of me. A promotion.”

“I knew you’d leave me in the dust,” he teased until he noticed I wasn’t kidding. “What happened?”

I don’t know why, but I glanced over my shoulder. Mr. Wells hadn’t mentioned this was hush-hush, but my instinct told me not to mention it to anyone I couldn’t trust.

“Have you ever heard of the Blackwell Group and the Obsidian Society?”

Cash took a deep breath and immediately tossed his coffee cup into the trash. Without saying a word, he moved out of the breakroom and down the hall heading to my office. Once inside, he closed the door.

“I know enough to say why in the world are you asking about it?”

“Because that’s what Mr. Wells wants me to do, look into both organizations.”

“Whew. That’s crazy.”

“Why?” I demanded.

“To be honest with you, I don’t think we should talk about it here.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Now, you have me intrigued.”

He laughed. “I’m not trying to be clandestine. Maybe I just want to get you out of the office.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were asking me out on a date.”

“There are days I wish I wanted to.” He rolled his eyes. “How about our favorite little Mexican place?”

“Sounds good to me.”