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Another bartender steps behind the bar, puts down a platter of empty glasses, then leans in to give his colleague a peck on the lips.
“That’s our man,” is the only indication Connor gives, before downing his drink and spinning back to the bar. Giving our surroundings a thorough sweep, I let him take the lead with our informant. Manuel is a tall, strong guy, with similar features to both Kai and D. He gives Connor a clipped nod, then turns back to wiping the bar with a cloth. I roll my eyes at his hostile vibe, though I can’t really blame him. Being an informant for the police puts this guy in jeopardy amongst hisbrothers, and that can lead to danger if they discover his double agenda. And despite his true intentions and wish to be a true member, he’ll be rejected and left out on the streets like a pile of dirt, alive or dead.
Manuel hands Connor his drink: sparkling water. Yeah, the irony of that doesn’t escape me. “This way.”
We follow him in silence. Touché is warming up for the night, with more and more people on the dance floor that hurtle out of the way when we come through. I keep my eyes fixed on everything around us, while registering perfectly where the emergency exits are.
Then Manuel leads us through a thick, oak door that separates us completely from the bar. This private room seems to have come straight from the Victorian era. The walls are painted a soft blush color and lustrous paintings are hanging on the wall. My feet hit something soft and I glance down to find an enormous lush carpet coating the stone flooring.
“The only thing missing is the fireplace,” I mutter, earning another glare from Connor.
“This is one of the three VIP rooms,” Manuel supplies reluctantly as he gestures to us to sit down at a dark wooden table. “Each one has a different theme, but this one is mostly frequented by thefamily.”
I gently push Connor into a seat by the wall, positioning myself on the edge of the table, wary of the fact that there’s no emergency exit to be seen.
“Just to be clear, I’m not on your side.” He folds his arms in front of his chest as he gives us another glare. “I’m a member of thefamily, ofLes Frères Perdus.My loyalty is with mybrothers. The only reason I’m here is because of the police. I told myCaptainthat I was talking to a few possible clients from America and I need you to play that role.” We both let out a hum of agreement. “If anyone talks to you, pretend to be rich. Which one of you is Connor? I only talk to you. Make it fast.”
“Who’s killing our people and why?” Connor fires right away. If Manuel’s little tantrum made any impression on him, it doesn’t show. “What are they doing so far from home?” Behold, a business-comfortable Connor. Gone is the stutter, the flushed cheeks, the insecurity in his eyes. This man is calm, and confident, and radiates control. He’s smoking hot.
Manel shakes his head. “I told Philippe, I don’t know.Youfigure it out.” Placing his hands flat on the table, he eyes them briefly, before looking up. “I suppose Philippe told you about Accitan?”
“He did,” Connor says. “Showed us the pictures.”
“What I know, is that we’ve been preparing for a move to the States for some time.”
“Why?” Connor shoots back immediately. “What are you planning?”
Manuel shrugs. “We don’t question ourInitiator. We respect him, honor him, and follow him anywhere he wishes to go. We are his loyalbrothers.”
Connor gives me a slight roll of his eyes, and I need to fight the urge to chuckle at that.Yeah, baby, these fuckers are batshit crazy.Giving him a waggle of my brows in return, I ask Manuel, “So what is your role within the cult?”
When Manuel hesitates, Connor mumbles, “Go on, you can answer him. He barks a lot, but he doesn’t bite.”
“Oh princess, I’ll show you my teeth tonight,” I snark, leaving Manuel watching both of us one by one, a puzzled look on his face.
“Sorry, he’s always like that. Where were we?”
Manuel grins, then turns to look at me. “I work with ourMasteron the communication with our clients. I do intakes, investigate if the person is suggestible for hypnosis, then once they are, determine what their darkest fantasies are. Then I report that back to myCaptainwho works out a theme with hisTrésors.”
“Philippe told us that you’d be able to get us into one of these evenings?” Connor asks instead.
“It’s already done. You’re on the guest list for tomorrow’s event.”
“What kind of theme can we expect?” My sneer falls flat between trepidation and fascination. Manuel looks right through it, the son of a bitch, because he replies to my scowl with an amused chuckle. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Fuck me,” I mumble. “You’re all crazy.”
Manuel’s chuckle turns into a grin, his eyes radiating a glow that unsettles me. When he speaks again, his voice is nothing more than a soft whisper, a gloomy contrast with the fire in his stare. “We were saved by ourInitiator, me and mybrothers. Before, we were scattered, left to rot by those who claimed to love us. We were lonely, and cold, some of us living in orphanages, or even worse, on the streets. We were saved,” he repeats, his voice thick with adoration, “byhim, ourInitiator.”
“Thanks for the speech,wacko,” I mumble to myself, “Tell us about tomorrow night instead.”
“Oursoiréesmake any client’s desire a reality.”
“TheInitiator, theMaster, theCaptains, theTrésors, will they all be there?” Connor’s voice has become rushed, and when I hear soft voices around me, I realize we’re no longer alone.
“Not theInitiator, the others yes,” Manuel says, then ducks his head in a sigh. “MyCaptain.”
“Will there be hypnosis?” Connor hisses in desperation, not accepting to have run out of time.
