The wetness of the mud clung to my skin, rain soaked through my clothes, and the lightning lit the jagged scar on my chest. I circled my man, nothing but a predator in the storm, thinking of every step, every clue he left for me, every sloppy little print he left behind on purpose, all to capture me and not play fair.
I owned this game.
And he will play by my rules if it kills him.
Maybe I’ve got this all wrong.
Or maybe…
“I needed a new game to play.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Judas
I shouldn’t be there.
Which, to be fair, was exactly why I am, duh.
The door looked like every other hooker’s club that was running a secret sex ring scandal. I knocked twice and listened to the accompanying thudding echo. It felt dramatic as hell, but I figured I might as well commit.
The slit in the door opened, and an eyeball stared at me. I stared back and winked.
“Members only,” a gruff voice mumbled.
Well, it felt like we had a moment.
“Cool,” I said, giving my arms a good ol’ stretch. “I’m not a member.”
The gruff-butt stalled for a second and then cleared his throat. “Did you not hear me? Members only. Why are you here?”
I leaned a little closer to the slit, like we were sharing a fancy secret.
“I think you know why, Nicky. You look like you know exactly why I’m here. Now, be a good boy and let me in.”
Another pause, and it was longer this time. I could practically hear the gears grinding in his big bouncer skull.
“You’re late. He’s been waiting.”
“I’m early for tomorrow.”
I didn’t bother waiting for him. As soon as I heard the door click, I muscled my ass a little into the opening.
Oh. That worked? Huh. Good to know.
The door fully opened, and I slipped inside before ‘Bobby,’ according to the name plate, and not Nicky, could change his mind. The place hit me all at once, and it was a fiesta to my senses. The noise, the stinky sex smelling heat, and the gyrating half-naked bodies moving all together made me feral!
Dance, Judie! The music is delicious.
Every demon in my head bumped and thumped to the robot sex music, and I shook my head.
“Yeah,” I muttered under my breath, glancing around and feeling residually high from all the drugs floating in the air. “This feels like a cult. Or a really shitty birthday party…I’ll pass.”
A guy brushed past me when I got toward the massive cult-looking square these sex drones danced on. He was shirtless, and it could have been a hickey, but I saw the unmistakable mark anyway.
Bingoooo, who’s your daddy?
“Victor Masters, but that’s besides the point. That’s the same symbol!”
