Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

THERON

What the actual fuck is Lucille doing here?

I want to ask her just that, but if I do, I’ll be raising suspicion, and I’ve done such a great job tonight acting like the perfect fucking asshole for Asher and the unplaceable Victor Marlowe.

In fact, Asher has asked me some more questions about security and wants my company to look into his home as well as Charlie and Emmie’s apartments.

He also said that he wishes to discuss possibly the art gallery, but it’s a sensitive matter. And that has piqued my curiosity. I can’t imagine what would be more sensitive than the human trafficking that I assume he’s doing out of this place tonight.

This whole thing is not only fascinating to me, but it’s also fucking scary.

How many times has this happened?

How many people are involved?

If we stop it here, are we just stopping it at the lower level, and nobody is going to give a shit because the wheels will keep turning?

All questions that my brothers and I have been asking, and none of us knows the answers. Not a single one of us. I’m not sure we’ll get them tonight, either, which makes me goddamn sick. I don’t want to continue this charade for another moment.

I don’t want Ravet to get away with hurting one more boy. Never again.

I am completely lost inside of my own head as I think about everything that could go wrong tonight, and now the wrench in the evening is Lucille. Not to mention the fact that she was at a bar with Charlie. That shit does not sit well with me at all.

Emmie kisses me on the cheek, and I watch as she bounces over to the waitress, who is taking orders again for the group. I take the moment of distraction to close the distance between me and Lucille.

I wrap my fingers around her bicep, tugging her closer to me. Dipping my chin, I place my lips on the shell of her ear. “What the fuck are you doing here—and in that dress?” I growl.

Lucille laughs softly, and I’m about to shake her, strangle her, or kiss her. I’m not sure which one. But that dress makes my cock twitch, and I want to tug it over her hips, bend her over, and fuck her right fucking now.

Maybe all three.

“Emmie invited me,” she says, trying her hand at sounding bewildered that I’m even asking such a question.

“Do I want to know how you got the invite?” Arching a brow, I grasp her arm a bit firmer and shake her once. “Lucille,” I warn.

She smiles coyly, then leans into me a bit farther. She’s staring straight ahead, and I assume she’s watching Emmie. We only have a few more moments, so she needs to talk really fucking quickly.

“I happened to be at the salon station next to Emmie when I was getting my nails done earlier today.”

That makes me snort. Releasing her arm, I take a step backward and tip my chin so that I can look my nose down at her. “You’ve never had your nails done in a salon in your life.”

It’s her turn to arch her brow as she peers up at me. Fucking hell, she’s gorgeous. I want to fuck her right here in the middle of this club, not a damn care given if anyone sees it. They can all fucking watch for all I care.

In fact, they can watch and be jealous as hell while they do because this woman is and will always be mine. I don’t know how much longer I can go without fully claiming her for myself.

“Theron,” Emmie’s shrill voice calls out.

I can feel my shoulders drop at the sound of her voice. I don’t want to be around her, nowhere near her. But this isn’t about what I want. If it were, shit would be playing out much differently tonight.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” I murmur, turning my head before I brush my lips across her cheek.

Leaving the two of them together, which is probably the wrong thing to do, I make my way to the back of the club. I pretend I’m going to the john. Once I’m in the hallway, I walk right past the bathroom and head toward the end.

I’m hoping it’s quiet enough that Hale can hear me down at the base office. “I’m not sure if we should do anything tonight,” I rasp. “I think there are bigger players coming. And I think that Asher wants me in on this shit.”

It makes me feel physically ill that Asher believes I could want to be any part of what he’s doing. That I could be any part of Ravet and that I could have any part whatsoever of the way he hurts boys.

I’m pretty sure anyone who is remotely involved with Asher Grant is dirty that way, so I have no doubt that since I’m supposedly dating his daughter, I am one of them, too. Or at least, he thinks I am.

That makes me feel like fucking shit.

Never would I want someone to think that I could do the things those motherfuckers did to us. I want to gut them all, then sew them back together, and do it all over again—every single one of them.

“I think he does, too, the bastard,” Hale whispers in my ear. “We’re not making any moves tonight. We’re watching.”

I fucking hate this shit. I open my mouth to tell him that Lucille is here, but I’m interrupted with a hand on my shoulder. I spin around, and my gaze connects with Emmie’s brother, Charlie.

He smirks, jerking his chin toward me. “What’re you doing?” he asks.

Shaking my head, I clear my throat and rock back on my heels. I start to answer him, but I have no clue what I’m going to say. Because I’m not doing anything that I can tell him about. So, I lie. Of course, I lie because lying has been all I’m capable of all night.

“Went to the john and then was checking my emails and shit. I’m good now. Nothing important.”

I clap my fingers down on his shoulder, gripping it before I give him a gentle shake. Together, we walk back to the VIP area. It’s the last place I want to be right now, but at the same time, I can’t leave Lucille alone.

Fucking Lucille.

I could choke her… while I fuck her, I could choke her.

LUCILLE

Charlie Grant is a fucking asshole.

He won’t leave me alone, he’s drunk as shit, and I don’t want anything to do with him. Even if Theron weren’t here, I would not be attracted to this man. No matter how hot he thinks he is. I find him disgusting. Emmie isn’t any better. Half of the time, she acts like a child. The other half, she’s trying to be overly sexy.

I really don’t understand what Theron sees in her. As the night wanes on, I continue to wonder just what the fuck I’m doing here. Clearly, I’m not doing as much destruction as I had planned.

Emmie is basically ignoring me now as she dances all over Theron, and I’m stuck with Charlie slobbering all over me. Theron seems about as pleased as me right now, which is my only consolation.

But when Asher Grant makes his way over to Theron, I watch out of the corner of my eye. I’m unable to take my eyes off them. Asher lifts his hand, clapping Theron on the shoulder. He shakes him once as he leans forward and murmurs something to him.

Then the Victor guy, who has not said a single word or moved from his chair the entire evening, stands. I can’t look away. I’m watching with rabid anticipation, wondering what the hell is going on. That guy hasn’t even blinked tonight, and now he’s suddenly standing.

When Asher takes a step backward, I watch as he turns to face Victor. Then the weirdest thing happens: Asher and Theron follow behind Victor.

What the hell?

Charlie uses the fact that I’m distracted for a moment to wrap his arm around my waist. I want to push him away, but I don’t think he would appreciate that, especially in a semi-public place. So, instead, I turn away from him and step out of his arms.

“I’ll be right back. I have to go to the restroom,” I say as I begin to move toward the bathroom, which incidentally is in the same direction that Theron went.

Once I make it through the club crowd and down the hall a step, I look around the doorway to make sure that Charlie isn’t following me. I let out a sigh of relief to see that he’s dancing with Emmie, and then I wince because they’re really close together, and it looks kind of gross.

Why doesn’t that surprise me?

It should, but it doesn’t.

Those two are freaking weirdos.

Sucking in a breath, I turn away from them and press my back against the wall. I shift my gaze from left to right because I don’t know which direction they went, and I don’t think I should be on the search for them, but I’ve never been one to just do what’s expected of me.

I take the direction that speaks to me and move. Thankfully, my gut is right, and when I reach the end of the dark hall, I see a small door to the left. If I weren’t looking for anything, I wouldn’t see it. The door is that small and painted the same color as the hallway.

Reaching for the handle, I suck in a breath and hold it for a moment before I twist and gently tug it open. I’m surprised, but then again, maybe not so much that there’s a narrow staircase just a few steps past the doorway.

Slowly, I make my way onto the stairs, closing the door behind me. I don’t know what I’m going to find as I move down the staircase. I’m afraid of what I’m going to come across, but at the same time, I must know.

It’s a burning sensation deep inside of me. Nobody ever said that I was smart, but I am too curious for my own damn good. So I continue to move down the staircase and stop at the bottom.

There is another door.

Reaching out, I place my hand against it and push it open. This one doesn’t have a handle. It’s a swinging door. Bending slightly, I peek my head through, looking from left to right for any sign of anything fishy.

But there is nothing—eerily nothing.

Where did they go?

It’s also quiet down here. You can’t even hear the bass of the music from above. It’s just… nothing. Pressing my lips together, I roll them a few times, and then my entire body freezes when I hear something.