Chapter 37

THIRTY-SEVEN

QUINN

My elbow-to-toe full PVC catsuit isn’t chafing, but it’s still hot as I stomp back and forth across the club in my thigh-high black stilettos.

I spot Caleb standing behind the sleek black equipment rental bar under-lit with pink neon light.

“Where the fuck is Moira?” I demand in my domme voice, grabbing the front of his shirt. “I can’t find her anywhere. I’ve been busy babysitting Domhn, who’s getting shit-faced in your office, by the way.”

Caleb stares up at me with the fear of God in his face. He knows how pissed Domhn gets if we lose track of Moira on a play night. But then he looks past my shoulder, relieved, and shoves his finger out. “There!”

I let go of his shirt and spin around to see where he’s pointing. Only to see Moira, hair half out of her pigtails, tugging down on the hem of her tight skirt guiltily. Dammit, she’s been fucking off premises again. Sex addiction or no, I’m pissed at her for making trouble on a night like this when Domhn had such tense shit going on. We don’t need to deal with her shit, too.

I stomp over to her, and everyone, male and female, gets out of my way like a parting sea without me having to say a word.

“Where the fuck have you been?” I demand, getting in her face as she looks up at me with wide, innocent eyes. I’m one of the few people in the world that doesn’t work on.

Everyone lets her get away with shit because, by an accident of birth, she came out looking like an anime doll fucked a leprechaun. She’s a devious kinky little redhead with eyes two times the size of her face that everybody wants to fuck. It happens to work out, cause she’s just as desperate to fuck them back, and she’s one of my best friends, but Jesus .

“Domhn told me to make myself scarce for the show,” she says, and then those big eyes drop like they do whenever Domhn or I question her and she’s trying to hide something from us. Thankfully, for all her other charms, she’s fucking awful at lying, so the amount of trouble she gets herself into is limited .

I wave a hand, sighing. “We’ll deal with it later. Did you see Brooke? I want to make sure she got a ride safely out of here.”

Moira’s eyes fly back up. “Oh I just saw her,” she says, smiling and obviously happy to tell me something that can get the heat off her. “Back in the alley.” She jerks a thumb behind her.

“The alley…” My eyes snap up towards the back door. “What were you—” I stop even before finishing the question, eyes rolling. It’s obvious what Moira was doing in the alley. The question is: “What was Brooke doing in the alley?”

“Oh,” Moira says, following my eyeline towards the door. “She- I- We just ran into one another out there.”

“I know you were screwing someone back there.” I wave a hand impatiently. “But where was Brooke when you last saw her? You know we’re downtown. There are reasons we don’t want you going in the back alley to fuck beyond just getting picked up for public indecency.”

“Oh.” Moira blinks in confusion and then her eyes widen. “ Oh .” She frowns. “Actually, I thought she was right behind me.”

We both start walking quickly towards the door. When I pick up into a jog, Moira’s still matching me. She reaches out to touch my arm. “It’s okay, though. It’s just Gus, from the shelter.”

“Who the fuck is Gus from the shelter?” I demand as I throw open the door to the alley, stomping out and looking both ways. I don’t see Brooke or anyone else.

“The handyman. Brooke knows him. They used to play—” Moira says, following me out. “—chess. Wait,” she turns around, forehead scrunched in confusion. “They were just here.”

“Jesus, Moira,” I swear, a bad feeling sinking in my guts as I spin and start sprinting back into the club.

Maybe it’s fine. Like Moira says, she knew the guy, so maybe after he got his rocks off with Moira, Brooke asked if she could bum a ride to the nearest train station.

But the bad feeling in my stomach counters, a sense honed by a lifetime of things not being fine. What if it’s not fine?

I run faster to get to Domhn in the club’s office.