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The news of Devin and Eileen’s divorce was unavoidable. It had been in every local paper, and our scene at the club only added to the already wagging tongues. I had managed to keep the media out along with everyone else in my life, including my mother turned stalker who had been the only one who’d almost successfully broken into my solid barrier.
Devin had actually done it. His divorce was finalized, and his ex-wife was MIA, rumored to be vacationing overseas to avoid the embarrassment.
Godspeed, crazy bitch.
I got into my Mercedes and turned on the ignition as I spoke. “Let’s say for curiosity’s sake—”
“I’ll text you the address.”
“Taylor?” She’d already hung up.
I broke every speed limit between Charleston and Savannah as I rode down U.S. 17.
Whatever Devin had been hiding, I was positive it had to do with that damned club. I cursed my stupidity for the laws I was breaking to spy on a man I swore I was done with. I had to justify to myself over and over that I was attempting to get answers I rightfully deserved. I had suffered a lot for little satisfaction and remained even less knowledgeable than when we’d started our affair.
If he was able to move on with another woman so quickly after he’d claimed he loved me, something inside of me had to see if for myself.
I thought of every conversation we’d had, and searched our dialogue for every clue, but not one led me anywhere. Devin had grown up in Savannah, that much I knew. He’d mentioned a few places he’d wanted to take me, none of them being a sex club. As much as I’d been reluctant to admit it, and as subtle as it had been, I was Devin’s sub. His willing sub, as I had been Aiden’s. This both fascinated and infuriated me. Why wouldn’t he just admit to being this way? I’d granted his every wish, and denied Devin nothing sexually.
Taylor’s apparently a member of the club, too. Hence the reason why she’s been so damn secretive. I s
hould have guessed it. Was the entire world hiding behind a daytime mask? I knew I was. It simply made everything easier. My night demons were still haunting me, and as much as I tried to move on, memories played on a continuous loop. I needed answers.
“And thus I clothe my naked villainy
With odd old ends stol’n out of holy writ;
And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.”
? William Shakespeare
§§
Arriving at the club an hour and twenty minutes later, I cautiously pulled into The Rabbit Hole, noticing the parking lot was full. Staring at the oddly carved doors, I realized they reminded me of the movie Alice in Wonderland.
Fitting name.
I wondered briefly what the inside of places like this were like before the reminder of why I was here in the first place burst through the double doors. Devin was hightailing it out of the club and running to his car like his life depended on it. I slumped in my seat, knowing he hadn’t seen me, and relieved he was alone.
Nope, nope, nope, nope, Nina. NO!
I waited for him to start his car, knowing if I didn’t catch him as soon as he pulled out I would never catch him. He was in a hurry. I turned on my lights and pulled up behind him just as he was turning out of the parking lot. He sped out as I followed him as closely as I could without seeming too obvious. When I started to recognize the route, I slowed behind him considerably, giving him more space. And with his final turn, I stopped altogether. He was on Peach Tree Rd.
The land. My land.
I’d only been out here one other time, just after I’d obtained it, but I had come alone, spending my time sitting next to the water, soaking in the beauty, and hoping I could make some use of it, though no idea ever stuck. Now I felt the dread in the pit of my stomach as I killed my lights a quarter mile away in the dark night, praying my silent Mercedes remained that way. Rolling down my windows as I approached, I noted Devin’s car parked next to the small shed. It was lit from within, and I felt my stomach roll.
That’s when I heard the first scream. I jumped in my seat, suddenly paralyzed as I hit the brakes. Waiting and listening for another, I prayed to God it was a figment of my imagination.
It wasn’t.
Another scream, followed by another, ripped through the dark night and the serenading of the crickets. Even they seemed to quiet after the next piercing howl. I picked up my phone to dial for help and realized I had no signal.
I had to help her.
You can do this, Nina.
My heel sank into the pluff mud, and I left it there, swiftly relieving my foot of the other. Turning my head toward my idling car, I reassured myself that it was still there, the door left open in case I needed to escape in a hurry. Hearing another bloodcurdling scream, I walked toward the dim light. Fear shot through me in waves as Shel Silverstein’s words fumbled around in my head, “Clooney the Clown” a horrific internal monologue resounding through my frightened mind. My senses heightened with each step I took toward the cracked door. There was soft music playing in the background. I knew the song but couldn’t make out the words. It was upbeat and a little jazzy, and totally unfitting.
