Page 24 of Through Any Fire (Any x #1)

B efore the clock strikes ten in the evening, I’ve dressed in the tightest dress I could find in my closest. It’s dark red with tiny straps and falls just over my ass.

I’ve smoked out my eyes with black shadow and a deep maroon lipstick paints my lips into a sultry smile.

After adjusting the necklace Cal gave me, I add a new pair of small hoops and put on a pair of slides.

I have no desire to sneak around this house in heels.

I’m fairly certain I’d be caught immediately.

Against the dimmed lights, my ring sparkles, drawing my attention to the enormous diamond. Well, that won’t do. Ignoring the confusing swirl of guilt that stabs me when I slide the ring off, I place it on the bathroom counter. Instantly, my hand feels lighter, and a frown tugs at my mouth.

Keep going.

I grab a pair of heels, throw on an oversized hoodie, and pray I don’t run into anyone on my way out.

Thankfully, the house is quiet as its residents wind down for the evening.

I creep through the shadows of the Keane residence to the back gate, unlock it with my spare key, and slip away.

Once I’m about twenty minutes away from the house, I finally dare to call a car.

Then it takes another fifteen to get to Abstrakt. When the car slows in front of the dark alleyway, I suck in a sharp breath.

“You sure this is it?” the driver asks, trepidation clear in his tone.

I look around, and all I see is stained concrete, a few broken bottles, and soiled newspapers. But what sticks out the most is the couple dressed way too nicely sauntering toward a rusted metal door: the aforementioned Park Avenue entrance to Abstrakt.

“Yep.” I slip off my hoodie and slides, stepping into my heels and pretending to forget the rest as I exit the car.

The door slams shut. Without skipping a beat, the driver takes off.

I follow the couple closely and see for myself how the upper echelon enters Abstrakt.

Clicking the wristband on, I can only pray it hasn’t been deactivated.

Down the stairway, the walls change from concrete to partially painted, and Abstrakt’s decor bleeds through.

A gold sconce here, a gilded frame there.

The dark green paint appears in choppy sections, as if the painters never finished the hallway, but in strategic blocks.

It’s strange to not blend the decor seamlessly, almost as if they want you to acknowledge you’re entering the new space.

The couple in front of me holds on to each other tightly, chattering between themselves as we descend.

When we reach the bottom of the stairs, one taps their bracelet on a diamond panel on the wall and waits for it to turn green.

It chimes, and then the woman opens the door and shuts it behind her.

Her partner follows suit. Again, I pray that the bracelet still works.

My heart beats wildly as I approach the panel, and when I hold the wristband against the metal plate, an anxious buzz frazzles under my skin. A second later, it chimes, and the light turns green. I enter Abstrakt with a relieved sigh.

It’s as I remember, debauchery running wild as drink flows steadily.

This time, a group of three performs on the platform, with a man thrusting sharply into his female partner.

Another woman lays on her back below them, licking the woman on top while she reciprocates.

Their moans ring out, and the slap of his body against hers is rhythmic and mesmerizing.

Turning from the erotic scene, I resolve to get what I need. Cal has his tactics, and I have mine. And while women are going missing from Abstrakt, it’s likely from the main floor, so I don’t believe I have to worry about that here. I think.

As I step farther into the room, hope crackles in my chest. Many are here tonight, and I’m sure I’ll find something of use.

I head to the bar. Only a few wait before me, and my fingers tap along the epoxy as I tune my ears to nearby conversations.

Within minutes, I quickly realize Abstrakt is a goldmine for information, where one man’s gossip is another man’s blackmail.

I was so focused on finding Callahan last time that I didn’t even realize just how safe its patrons feel to speak freely.

My fingers itch to take down anything of interest, but so far, there isn’t anything about the Disciples or the missing women.

I order my whiskey and float around the room. It’s busy, so I do what any pretty woman would do, and slide into conversations with a simple laugh at a man’s joke before twisting the conversation into where I need it to go. When I don’t find anything, I move on.

Until—

“Oi, you just be glad you’ve been given this chance. Not many get the opportunity to impress the Prophet himself. Don’t fuck it up.”

My ears prick up, and I drift closer to the conversation, pretending to join the one next to theirs. I perch on the arm of a sofa with my back toward the group and plaster a welcoming smile to my face, nodding along to the conversation in front of me.

“I know. I’m not gonna fuck it up, mate. I want this as much as you. It’s been too long we’ve been overlooked.” A ting chimes, as if they clinked their glasses together.

“But not anymore.”

“Not anymore.”

My lips curl into a triumphant smile. It’s time I kick it up a notch. Twisting in my seat, I catch a glimpse of the dagger tattoo on one of their wrists. Disciples. But these two didn’t exactly seem like they were out snatching women. Perhaps Apostles, then?

“Have you wrangled your lot?” one asks.

I take a sip of my whiskey. Perhaps I spoke too soon.

“Got a few last minute additions, but should be ready for Friday.”

Friday? That’s only five days from now.

“I’m three short. Trying to get a few more tonight, but we’ll see. Otherwise, I’ll have to go hunting myself and drive them directly to the port. I’d much rather give a few of the girls a test drive instead.”

“I hear ya.” His voice is slimy, and it unnerves me how it seems to coat my senses. “I tried one sluts out last night and”—he lets out a long breath—“I’d bet money she was a virgin.”

My blood boils, and I fight to keep my rage from spilling onto my face. These guys deserve to be in Cal’s concrete room and never leave. At least not breathing .

Alice and Mason’s faces materialize in front of me like ghosts, and I stuff my nerves down until the tightness in my throat eases.

Throwing the last of my drink back, I plaster on an amiable smile and droopy eyelids, slouching over further in my seat.

My arm dangles out, and I toy with the empty glass in my hand.

Then I stand and stumble, cursing under my breath as I catch myself.

One man I stood beside tries to catch me, but I spin away, toward the Disciples. I stumble a few steps forward and watch my targets line up in my periphery. One stands, immediately putting an arm around my waist. I have to suppress the knee-jerk reaction to throw him off.

“Well, hello there , miss,” he drawls, a playful squeeze to my waist. His smile stretches across his face but doesn’t reach his eyes.

Oily black hair slicked back, combined with a too-large suit and a gold hoop through one of his ears.

His bloodshot eyes droop and scan my body while he licks his lips. “I’m Roy. Care for a drink?”

It’s a chore, but I remember my game and nod vigorously, covering a coy laugh behind my hand. “Why, yes, Sir Roy. How’d you know I needed one?” For some reason, I’ve picked up a bit of a southern accent, but I roll with it.

Roy’s eyes spark, and he starts to lead me to the bar. Instead, I whirl out of his arms and let myself fall onto the lap of the other Disciple. Laughter peels from my lips, and I playfully swat at the man’s chest.

“Oh, I’m sorry”—I hiccup—“I seem to have lost my footing.”

The Disciple’s hand slides across my waist and holds me to him.

“David, let her up so we can get a drink.” Roy’s words bite, and he extends an impatient arm to help me up.

I playfully push it away. “I’m pretty comfy here. But will you get me a glass of champagne? We’re celebrating tonight, boys.”

“How’s that?” David’s eyes light with unnerving glee as he shifts me on top of him. Gross. Maybe I didn’t think this through. “What are you celebrating tonight?”

I let loose a flirty sigh. “Don’t you mean, what are we celebrating tonight?”

Roy chuckles and raises a brow. His greasy face shines against the dim light, and his voice rumbles out of his thin chest. “And what are we celebrating tonight?”

I mockingly groan, as if they should already know. Roy steps closer, and when a hard length pushes against my hip, I roll out of David’s grip to sit next to him on the couch instead.

“Well, I just got gifted a membership here, and you guys…” I trail off, but they don’t seem to catch on. “Aw, something good must’ve happened for you guys, too. Come on, don’t be shy!”

Roy smiles brightly as he looks to David and then back to me. “Well, now that you mention it, we’re about to be partners in a very lucrative business.”

I gasp and clap my hands wildly, as if truly unable to contain my excitement for them. “You guys must be really smart then, huh?”

The compliment only further inflates their confidence and loosens their lips.

God, and it was so juvenile, too. David shrugs, and I lean forward, listening intently.

He smirks, settling against the couch and taking the last gulp of his drink.

Then he smacks his lips, and an insidious gleam shines through his bloodshot eyes.

“You could say that, little lady.”

Little lady? Gag .

He smiles, but it seems more like he’s baring his teeth than emoting any sort of happy emotion. “We’ve recently partnered with a shipping company, and now we get to take our wares worldwide.”

“Worldwide,” Roy reiterates with a matching smile. They look to each other, and then turn their pointed attention back to me. “Now, how about that drink?”

Chills erupt down my spine while my heart thuds. You couldn’t pay me to drink anything these men might give me.

“Let me just use the little girl’s room first,” I say with a tight smile. When I stand, I feel David’s evil stare slither down my backside. “Be right back.”

I turn and have to freeze or otherwise run into a familiar stature.

Leon’s dark gaze narrows as he looks me over.

He looks a little worse for wear, dark scruff covering his jaw and purple shadows underneath his eyes.

He wears a black shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows and tucked into dark charcoal slacks.

His tan skin looks paler than usual, but it could be because winter’s blocking out the sun.

He’s young, only a half a year younger than Mason, but tonight, he looks years older than twenty-one.

His eyes soften, and when he speaks, it’s almost as if he’s seeing a ghost. “Loren.”

My name sounds wrong falling from his lips, and I offer a weak smile. “Hey, Leon. Have you heard from Mason?”

My words seem to shake him, and he visibly shutters. “What the fuck are you doing in a place like this?” Anger rattles out of his chest, and his face flushes. He pointedly ignores my question.

Instantly, I’m on guard. My eyes narrow, nostrils flaring. “And why wouldn’t I be allowed in a place like this?” I bring my wrist in front of me to flash my wristband. “Seems you’re wrong.”

Leon’s jaw clenches, and a fierce grip freezes my hand in front of him. He brings it closer to inspect, and he inhales sharply. Rocks settle in my belly like stones in a riverbed. I try to wrench my hand out of his hold, but he tightens his grip.

In my periphery, Roy and David stand and move to leave. Roy raises his hands in defeat and says, “Sorry, man. Didn’t know she was yours.” Then, they’re gone.

“I’m not.” My words slice out, and Leon flinches. What the fuck is his problem?

“You could’ve been.”

I freeze, and all sound outside our bubble deafens. Leon watches my reaction with thinly veiled humor sparkling in his dark eyes.

“If I knew you were going to run off and marry the first guy who promised to help you find your brother, I would’ve told you I could help.”

My eyes widen. He’d practically slammed the door in my face when I went to him for help all those weeks ago.

“But now”—he steps closer into my space and lowers his voice—“you are the enemy. And your husband’s latest partnership only solidifies that.”

My eyes flicker between his, and I can tell he believes every word he says.

“Hudson—”

Leon cuts me off. “Hudson isn’t privy to the sort of information I have access to.” His words are sharp, and the heat of his anger is blistering. “I thought you wanted to find Mason. ”

My eyes narrow. “Of course I want to find Mason.”

Leon smirks, and his hold on my wrist slides up to rest on the nape of my neck. With a light squeeze, he leans closer. “Let me help you.” His words are sickly sweet and coated in double meaning.

I open my mouth to respond, but I’m cut off by a gruff voice standing next to us.

“Get your hands off my wife.”