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“I somehow knew you and I would fit together.” Lyons smiled. “You’re what we need on the team—a man after my own heart.”
Colt continued the talk about women with Lyons to discover if Lyons and his friends could be the serial rapists who’d attacked Chrissie Lowe. Phrasing his questions without causing suspicion wouldn’t be easy. He dove in, hoping he hadn’t pushed his luck too far. “I can’t believe I came this close to sharing the girl you invited last week.” He held his thumb and forefinger an inch apart.
“There’ll be more.” Lyons shrugged. “I’ll ask the guys if they want you to join in. We’ll need to be careful.” He gave him a long look. “Everything that happens here stays here.”
Colt frowned. “The women agree to party, don’t they?”
“You’ve never heard a complaint, have you?” A slow smile crept over Lyons’ face. “Yeah, they like to party with us and come back for more. The freshmen in particular come across all sweet and innocent, and once they have a few drinks they turn into nymphomaniacs. The guys are more than happy to oblige.”
Colt took a long drink then met Lyons’ gaze. “They also tend to change their minds once they’re sober. It’s hard to believe none of them have complained.”
“That’s because I have insurance.” Lyons chuckled and pulled a cellphone out of his pocket. Colt noticed it was a cheap burner and not the one he usually carried. “I’ll show you a few images but we have a library of these and they’re well-hidden. No one could find them, and if anyone went to the cops and complained, I have a few cut versions to show them. The way I’ve edited them, they prove the girls were into everything we did to them.” He opened the file and passed him the cellphone. “Take a look for yourself.”
A wave of disgust hit him like a tsunami at the sight of Chrissie Lowe in indecent poses. He zoomed in on her face. Her hooded eyelids hadn’t disguised her huge, dilated pupils and the blank, slack expression told him she was barely conscious if at all. He kept his eyes lowered as if taking in the images and tried to control his rage. He’d blow his cover for sure if he wasn’t careful. How he handled his response now was crucial to catching this SOB. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Oh man, this is hot. Ever had two at the same time?” He forced a chuckle. “Now that would be fun.”
“Oh yeah, and we’ve got videos too.” It was a boast and now Lyons’ eyes were dancing with delight. “Although watching reruns is a turn-on, it’s nothing like being there.”
Colt went in for the kill. “When’s the next party?”
“Hmm.” Lyons shrugged. “I’m not sure, maybe Saturday. The guys need to come down from the game. I’ll see what I can arrange but I’m going to have Emily one way or another. I can’t resist a challenge and I always win.” He gave him a long look. “If you want to earn your way into our group, you’ll have to hook up with a girl after the game. If the guys know you’ve supplied one of them, they’ll agree to you joining us.” His mouth raised at the corners. “Look, I’ll make it easy for you. If we work together, the girls won’t be able to resist, and they’ll believe there’s safety in numbers. Don’t worry, the guys can easily handle three at once.”
Woah, this plan is going way too fast. Colt frowned. “Sure, but three, isn’t that risky?”
“Nah.” Lyons chuckled. “Don’t worry, the moment the jet hits their systems, they’ll be demanding to get laid.”
Colt wished he’d been wearing a wire. The confession that Lyons used a date-rape drug on his victims was all the proof he needed. Dammit, everything he says to me is hearsay. He’d recognized the street name for ketamine, a date-rape drug, and forced a smile. “Count me in.”
“We’ll see, my eager friend.” Lyons chuckled. “Wait here and chat with some of the guys.” He motioned to a group of men chatting close by. “I need to use the john.” He strolled toward the hallway.
Surrounded, Colt had the weirdest sensation of drowning. The men’s faces all had the same suspicious expression and looked at him, saying nothing as if he’d become the enemy. It was obvious Lyons didn’t fully trust him yet if he had to run his presence past his boys. He glanced casually at his tracker ring and calculated how fast backup would arrive if they decided to kill him. Not fast enough.
Thirty-Seven
Dylan Court used his key to open the door to the cellar. He glanced around, making sure no one had followed them. “I’ll get the light. I need to stash my flash drive in the safe.” He stepped inside the room and flicked the switch to turn on the lights.
“Something I gotta know.” His friend paused in the doorway. “Where else have you been keeping your copies?”
“Nowhere, only in the safe.” Court’s gaze slid around the room. Big, comfortable sofas surrounded a gigantic flat-screen, and it seemed every time he came down here he found another luxury. The fully stocked bar and coffee machine were new additions to their special room. He walked toward a framed picture of the team, pressed a button hidden under the mantel, and the picture flipped back to reveal a safe. “See, I’ll lock it away, safe and sound. I just needed to add a few things.”
“That’s good.” His friend pulled out his cellphone and offered Court a few seconds of video. “This is what I have—like it?”
Court had never seen anything so professional filmed on a phone. “Man, that’s almost porno quality.” He looked into his friend’s eyes. “Can we put it up on the screen?”
“Later. I want to see what you’re hiding on your flash drive first.” His gaze became intense. “Give me a look.” He waved his cell. “And I’ll download a copy of this right now, for your personal collection.”
Unable to resist the chance to see the rest of the footage, Court dove into the safe and found his flash drive. He led the way to a desk at the back of the room, booted up the computer, entered his password, and then inserted the drive. “There, now can I see the damn video?”
“Thanks, I’ll transfer the files now.” His friend smiled at him. “It will give you something to do while I look at these.”
Moments later, Court’s cellphone chimed with a message. He waited for the file to download then dropped onto the sofa to play the files. Engrossed, he didn’t notice his friend until the sofa dipped as he sat beside him. He paused the clip, slightly annoyed at being disturbed, turned, and looked straight into the muzzle of a gun. “W-what the heck?”
“Push up your sleeve, the left one.” His friend’s expression had hardened to granite. “That’s right. Now take the rubber tubing and tie it around your arm. I wanna see those veins popping. Then use the syringe.” He nudged him with the cold muzzle of the gun. “You know how to do it, don’t you, Dylan?”
Court stared at the two syringes. “What is it?”
“Something just for you.” The man’s lips curled in a sinister smile. “You’ll enjoy the ride. You should thank me.” He jammed the muzzle harder into Court’s temple. “Hurry up, I don’t have much time.”
Panic made his hands shake but he took the rubber tubing, tied it around his arm using his teeth to assist him, and then pulled it tight. “You know this will show up on a drug test? I’ll be off the team for sure.” Court pressed the needle into his vein. “Is that what you want?”
