Cole and Fournier confer for almost three hours. Cole isn’t afraid to ask questions—about how the hockey league affects business, about international issues between the US and Canada, about the hiring and firing of personnel.
By the end, both men seem to be in perfect agreement. They stand and shake hands. Fournier promises to send copies of all the documents they’ve reviewed. Cole says his lawyers should sign off on the deal by the end of the month.
When Fournier opens the door, a young woman steps forward. Wearing a polite smile and the black suit of a caterer, she offers to take him to the lobby.
“That went well,” I say to Cole.
“Better than I expected.”
“Now will you tell me what happened when you went back for the present?”
Glancing toward the open door, he frowns. I understand why when he tells me about Collins counting cash from the feckin’ bratva. Cole’s return was delayed because he had to track down Jacobson, in Gage Rider’s office. We’ve finally found our traitor.
“So what happens now?”
“Jacobson doesn’t want to spook him. Collins will be a passenger in the tailing car on the way back to the airport. The driver has already been told to get trapped in traffic. Collins will miss our flight and make his own way home.”
“And then?”
“Best will handle the interrogation himself. Tomorrow.”
I swallow hard atinterrogation. I’m a mob princess. I don’t need Cole to explain what will happen.
Cole’s jaw is iron. “The sooner we get home, the safer I’ll feel. Ready?”
As he holds the door for me, the heat of his body radiates through his sleeve. We step into the corridor where I expect to find a guide as Fournier did, or maybe Gage himself. Instead, thehall is empty. Scowling, Cole starts to head toward the service passage we used to get here, only to find that we need some sort of security card to open the door.
“I don’t think—” I say.
Before I can finish the thought, we hear a ripple of applause. A couple of people cheer over a wave of laughter. Gage Rider’s voice rises over the amusement, amplified through a microphone. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, that’s one way to win a bet.”
Sighing, Cole turns toward the gathering. He laces his fingers between mine as we walk down the hall. The gesture pulls me close to his side.
When we round the corner, we find ourselves in a large room. The walls and ceiling are painted black, which makes the space seem smaller than it is. Gage stands on a raised platform, his tuxedo shimmering in a hot white spotlight.
Beside him is a giant roulette wheel, the outer edge studded with brass nails. Instead of numbers, black and red, the disk is marked with words, twenty or more.Paddle. Ball gag. Whip.
Two black-clad staff members are carrying a heavy leather chair off the stage. A man dressed in tuxedo trousers is leaning over a woman in a school-girl outfit. He’s holding a paddle, and she’s rubbing her arse. “Come on, honeycakes. It was all for a good cause.” He riffles a stack of bills in front of her pouting lips. “I’ll buy you something special with our winnings.”
Gage makes a show of checking a stack of index cards he pulls from his breast pocket. “Let’s see now… Who is our last contestant?”
Cole maneuvers me to stand in front of him. His whisper is hot in my ear. “Looks like we’ll be a few minutes.”
I turn just enough to look at his face. We don’t have to stay. Certainly we can find our way back to the lobby without Gage’s help.
But Cole’s eyes are gleaming with an intensity I haven’t seen in days. I’m suddenly aware that we just spent the past three hours in a dungeon—not his, not outfitted with his equipment, but it was still a room built for sex.
And we haven’t set foot in the basement of our own home in over a week.
I remember my reaction earlier, to the man and his three leashed women—curiosity and confusion and just a lick of desire. And I have to admit, I’m more than a little intrigued by whatever game these people are playing now.
Plus, Cole and I have the worst kind of work to do once we get home. Determining the depth of Collins’ involvement with the bratva won’t be pretty. I’m happy to put it off for a few minutes of mindless fun.
I tug on Cole’s sleeve until he lowers his ear to my lips. “My,” I whisper. “What a big crowd this is.”
His answering grin ignites the feral thing that lives inside me.
Up on the stage, Gage clearly feigns surprise as he reads a name. “Master Jonathan! You get the last spin.”
