We had a breach.
I’d been in the security office for hours watching silent, repetitive footage.
Part of me still didn’t believe it. Delirium was bulletproof. Security at the gate, more at the entrance, no recording devices inside. We screened members for everything from criminal records to proof of funds. Who the fuck got in?
And if it was one of the patrons who’d deliberately broken contract, well, they’d learn that their status meant absolutely nothing to me when put up against the sanctity of my business. Or my word to the other patrons that nothing they said or did within these walls would ever get out.
Since this morning, all the members were being systematically informed of the security breach. A notification went out assuring the members that we were aware of the issue, but they had nothing to worry about. Measures were being taken immediately to ensure continued privacy. Two grainy photos of the club’s interior made it online.
Everyone wore a mask, and the pictures already looked like they were shot with a pin camera. Blown up to print online, the resolution was even worse. It was impossible to make out any identities but it didn’t matter. Their existence meant someone got through security with a camera and the reputation of my club, my reputation was compromised.
Basically, I didn’t need the added shitstorm that Nixon just threw on top of the pile when he walked through that door two minutes ago.
“What did you say?” I demanded, searching Nixon’s expression for any hint of a joke and finding none.
His lips flattened. “I said the body was turned around.”
“What the fuck do you mean turned around?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. It wasn’t often he disappointed me, but right now? Right now I could’ve severed his artery myself.
“Snow didn’t take it. He refused.”
The undertaker wasn’t allowed to refuse anything. He was processing bodies for us, that was the deal. My peaking frustration surged through my body, making me restless as I paced the length of the security office.
“And you just let that slide?”
Threats, intimidation, break a couple of fingers. There were no shortage of options.
My patience with the undertaker was wearing thin. I wondered darkly whether he knew what the inside of his incinerator looked like when it was on. I’d be happy to show him.
“He insisted on the increase in fees,” Nix offered. “Said he was making a ‘formal request’ or some other shit and I should bring it to you directly.”
Quiet rage simmered through me as I lifted my gaze unseeing toward the wall of screens broadcasting live feeds from every camera in the house.
Oh he did, did he?
Beneath the rage at his blatant insubordination, there was something else, because Mr. Snow just handed me the one thing I craved above all others.
He’d wrapped her in a bow and served her to me on a platter.
“Ruarc?” Nixon pressed, following my gaze to the screens, specifically the ones playing a recording of last night’s debauchery in the club.
I pulled the collar of my shirt from my neck, hot rage making every little thing annoy me, but I stifled it. Swallowed it. Maintained control.
The undertaker needed to be taught a lesson.
I’d pitied him when we last spoke. Bile rose in the back of my throat. Now I knew I should’ve just broken his legs like I’d wanted to.
Money problems must be worse than he was letting on.
At this rate, how much did it cost to build my own fucking crematorium right here? Actually, the idea didn’t sound half bad. Or better, what if I just bought Snow’s? Had his pretty daughter dispose of my sins?
“Who were you delivering?” I asked, calling on the last of my self-control not to lose my fucking shit. I let Nixon handle the day to day bullshit, and I couldn’t remember giving an order for an execution.
“No ID. Likely a low level street dealer or a user. Either way, the junkie got in a fight with one of our guys. Got himself dead. It was meant to be a simple cremation, but Snow refused.”
Thinking about the long-term consequences of his insolence was giving me a migraine. He wasn’t backing down, he was getting bolder. Once again, he had nothing to say for himself in person but he pulled these shitty, sneaky tricks when I wasn’t there to put him right back in his place.
Sucking in slow lungful of air, I looked Nixon square in the face.
I’d deal with the undertaker, but it seemed the old creep wasn’t the only person in need of a lesson tonight.
Nix knew I was busy as fuck running damage control and he was supposed to be my face when I couldn’t be there. Be my voice. Dispense my justice.
He had my trust, but this was below standard, particularly for the efficiency and cold hard precision I was used to from him.
“What have I always told you happens during situations like this?”
Nix’s chest swelled with a deep inhale. “They don’t have a choice.”
“I said execute. Whether that calls for a change of plans, an elimination, it doesn’t matter. Every task, you fucking execute. No exceptions. Especially not for pieces of shit like Snow.”
Nixon’s jaw worked, clearly thrilled to be getting the speech again. As my second-in-command, I needed him in cases like this. I still wanted to expand the syndicate through the state. Open another Delirium further south. I couldn’t do that when my right-hand-man let things fall through the cracks.
“Yes sir. I understand.”
I rubbed my hand over my jaw, feeling how tight it was from clenching so goddamn hard.
“Is there a body rotting somewhere on my property right now?”
I saw him bite the inside of his cheek, stalling. I closed my eyes, not letting the rise of anger get to me. Nixon knew the damn rules. No corpses on property aside from quick transfers.
Whoever said the dead didn’t talk didn’t know a damn thing.
“Get rid of it. If the undertaker won’t take it, get it in the river, take it to the woods. Throw it through the meat grinder. I don’t care. No trace.”
His eyes clouded, but he nodded. When it came to the undertaker, I was going to have to solve things myself. I could force him to take the junkie, but I had a better idea.
“Anything else?”
Nix shook his head.
“Then why the fuck are you still standing there?”
His jaw flexed as he turned away.
“Nix?”
He stopped, turning back around to face me, the emotion in his face gone. All business between us now. I only dressed him down because I knew he could do better.
I needed him to do better.
“Did you get the name and address I asked for?”
“It’s in your email.”
I waited until the sound of his footfalls across the parquet floor faded, punctuated by the opening and closing of the front door, before pulling out my phone to find the email.
Attached to it was a multiple-page file highlighting everything there was to know about Carlos Isaac.
Twenty-three.
He attended but never graduated from Washington State.
Most importantly, Emily was at his house two nights ago. She went in, and was still there come dawn when I finally left.
She spent the fucking night.
Nix’s notes filled the screen. The dirtbag smoked pot. Had a DUI. Owned the townhouse where he lived and rented out a room. And what’s this…
The fucker was on a sex offender registry?
My grip on the phone tightened.
What the fuck was someone like Emily doing with scum like him?
I was at her cabin before she left to go to him.
I thought she was in for the night, but instead she went back up to the mortuary building well past dark.
It wasn’t part of the plan but I couldn’t pass up an opportunity like that. It was easy to break in, and leaving the door open for her was my way of saying hello.
I wanted to see what she would do. Following every surprise I’d left for her, she stood fast. After an initial freak out or show of strength, she’d go back to regularly scheduled programming.
She hadn’t even changed the locks. Didn’t install a camera. Didn’t get a dog who might bark when something moved outside.
Emily knew I was there but she didn’t try to get rid of me. She never ran.
Not until last night.
When she drove off the property, I followed her into the city.
On the file, there were a couple of pictures of him from a Washington State online publication. His bright eyes and wide with toothy grin that made me want to go and pluck out all his teeth.
Not knowing whether he touched her last night made me near mad.
Emily was mine.
I closed the email. There were more pressing matters at hand than whoever was keeping Emily warm while I couldn’t. He’d have his turn.
The monitor on the desk still glowed with the paused security footage. I watched hours of it. People at double speed filtering into the building. Then hours of nothing before they filtered out again.
I had the list of everyone who was there the night of the breach.
Watching the footage against the list, nobody unexpected could have gotten in or out of the club. I felt my eyes glaze over. It looked like this every night with only minor changes in clientele.
My fingers hesitated over the fast forward button.
Every night looked the same.
I pulled up the leaked club pictures. They were so grainy I couldn’t even tell what part of the hall they were taken in.
But more than that…
There was no date. Nothing to so much as indicate a time of year. They could’ve been taken years ago.
My head fell back against the chair’s headrest, groaning.
They were smart. With so little to go off of, tracing the pictures would take time, giving whoever was behind this time to get ahead. I shook my head. I could be grateful no one was identified, but the existence of the club alone would raise suspicion, and online sleuths were already working to clear up the cloudy images and identify the masked patrons just as quickly as my team worked to get every copy taken down.
Just take her.
My eyes shot open at the sudden, intrusive thought.
It’s time.
That swell of desire I felt the first time I saw her returned.
Emily Snow under my roof, the idea alone made me blind with need and I shuddered thinking of everything I would do to her. Everything I wanted to make her feel. The limits I ached to see if she could climb.
I licked my lips, tapping the stop button on the recording. I’d get my guys on this first thing tomorrow. Until there was more to go on, the footage would be all but useless, anyway. Right now, doubling security efforts and assuring our clients a breach like this wouldn’t happen again would be more effective.
I’d waited long enough.
It was time to make her mine.
