Page 1 of Threads of Crimson

Prologue

BENJI

We stopped outside a metal door with a discreet sign that said VV on it. A man the size of a small car, decked out in a gray suit, stood in the doorway like a guard.

“What’s VV?” I asked Eric, my former, mischievous foster brother.

Eric smirked and waggled his eyebrows. “You’ll see.”

He flicked his head at the beast of a man, who eyed me and arched one eyebrow.

Eric wrapped his arm around my shoulders while holding up the folder. “We’re all good here. Ronan is expecting us.”

The guard touched something in his ear, mumbled so low I couldn’t understand his words, before smirking. “You’re in luck.”

He turned, opening the door and holding it for us to walk past him. I stayed as far from him as possible, while pressing up behind Eric. When I glanced backward, the big guy winked. Something about the gesture caused a ripple of fear to course up my spine.

I’d been so intent on him that I slammed into Eric’s back as he stopped right at the threshold of another door that led into another room. “Here we go,” Eric said with glee in his tone.

He stepped to the side, pulling me up next to him, and I peered around, a little curious but mostly anxious. It took my eyes a minute to adjust to the low lighting of what I assumed an upscale, underground bar should look like.

There were glass jars with tea lights in the center of the small tables that occupied the first part of the room before it turned into booths. A bar was to the left with a mirrored center that reflected the illumination of the candle sconces on the walls back into the room.

“Swanky, huh?” Eric asked as I took in the dozens of people sitting at the tables or on the stools around the bar top. Everyone was dressed to the nines, whether in a casual way like Eric and me or in suits that shined. Jewels dripped from women’s throats and ears, and there were a fair amount of men sporting gold chains, watches, and rings.

Swallowing back my apprehension, I licked my lips, then faced my friend so that I could gauge his expression as I confronted him. “Did you bring me to a mafia hangout?” I asked quietly.

Eric huffed, glancing around quickly before leaning to whisper in my ear, “Even better.”

He gripped my hand and pulled me toward the back of the club, weaving between tables, until we hit a straight shot between the booths and the bar. Not wanting to be rude, I tried looking straight ahead, but movement from one of the tables to my right caught my attention, and I glanced over, almost tripping over my feet at the sight before me.

A woman straddled a man, her dress all hiked up around her thighs, and he sucked on her neck, while she moaned salaciously. In the middle section of the booth, facing me, was a pretty blonde lady with her head tipped back and ecstasy on her face while a brunette seemed to be nibbling on her wrist. Beside them, a man stared intently at both couples with unwavering focus, drinking it all in.

“Benji,” Eric hissed, pulling my attention.

Feeling my cheeks flame with mortification, I hustled to catch up with him. “Sorry. I just…” I gestured behind me, thinking that should be explanation enough.

He snorted and patted my cheek. “Don’t be such a prude. You seriously haven’t seen anything yet. You good?”

Nodding, I cleared my throat. “Sure.” He smirked, then continued his journey to the back of the club, while internally, I thumped my head into a wall.

Why had I followed him anywhere? I was all about people making a living in whatever way suited them, but if this side hustle he mentioned was about selling my body, he should’ve given me a heads-up. For me, who I fucked around with was the one thing that I’d been able to maintain control of. There’d been a couple of close calls to that not being the case while I’d been unhoused, but…

Closing that train of thought down, I halted beside Eric as he stopped at the last stool at the end of the bar next to an extremely handsome, broad-shouldered blond. “Hey, Ronan.”

The man—Ronan—was probably in his late twenties, so not too much older than me, but he had a suave worldliness about him that I’d never possessed. A slow smile spread across the guy’s face as his bright gray eyes flicked from Eric to me, and his gaze moved slowly from the top of my shaggy brown hair, which I’d done my best to control, down to the shiny toes of my boots.

No wonder Eric had given me the fancy duds. If the pleased smile on Ronan’s face was anything to go by, I’d have embarrassed my friend by showing up in anything from my normal, holey wardrobe. Too bad I’d be disappointing both of them when I let them know that I wasn’t interested in anything they were selling.

“So you must be Benji,” Ronan breathed out.

“Uh…um…yep,” I stammered, shocked by the silky tenor of his voice.

Ronan’s smile grew impossibly bigger, and the light glinted off the white of his teeth. His gaze moved to Eric. “You were right. He’s purrrfect.”

The way perfect rolled off his tongue, it sounded like he was purring, and I was sort of sad that I’d be leaving soon. This place, and the people in it, were proving to be interesting. “Listen, I’m not trying to be rude, but…”

I trailed off as, over Eric’s shoulder, a man… “What the fuck?” I mumbled as a dude literally tipped a lady back and sank his teeth into her throat. Stepping in closer to Eric and Ronan, I hissed, “A guy is literally…oh shit. There’s blood.” My stomach turned as one long drip of blood rolled down the column of her neck.