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“Sorry about this, Dave,” I tell him through clenched teeth as I keep a steady pressure on his throat. He’s fighting this hard, and I only hope to God I have enough strength left in me to leave him unconscious. “You’ve had some shitty luck in this life. Hey, who knows? Maybe the next one will be better.”
* * *
Dave’s hood smells like ass, and the robe I found hanging in the small changing room inside the dungeon is thick and scratchy, but both do a decent job of not only disguising my identity, but covering up the multitude of injuries Dave bestowed on me.
Jerk.
I’m limping like a champ as I let myself out of the dungeon, teeth clenched against the pain. I make it up the concrete stairs, and emerge into a bare hallway with flickering halogen lights. Ah, there’s the exposed brick I was longing for. A metal door bars my way at the end of the corridor, but it’s surprisingly unlocked.
Even if I’d paused and taken a good few minutes to think this through, I’d never have come up with a possibility close to what I find on the other side of that door.
I thought we were in a warehouse, maybe even an abandoned building out in the boonies.
Nope.
Try a motherfucking mansion.
Even on the lower level, where it’s obvious there’s not a lot of foot traffic, baroque landscapes in golden frames dot the dark paneled walls. I turn into another passage, this one opening into a grand foyer three stories high, replete with a pair of massive vases and a fountain sporting a very naked Venus. A split staircase sweeps in two gentle curves up to a landing where more paintings and statues are visible.
“Some champagne, Sir?”
I spin around with the whip half-raised, ready to defend myself, but when I spot the stick-thin young girl behind me, I almost rip off my cloak and throw it over her.
She’s naked. Bruised. But someone went to a great deal of effort to braid her hair, and apply makeup to a face that didn’t need it.
“No, thank you.” My voice is barely a whisper.
“Would you like me to suck your cock?”
I clear my throat. “Definitely not.”
Her eyes flicker up to mine, and I wish they hadn’t. They’re as soulless as those on Venus. “Are you sure?”
I’m not acting like the people she’s normally exposed to. I glance at her tray. There’s not just champagne on there. A small humidor with three cigars inside, and a pill box with God knows what kind of drugs inside. And a bottle of water.
“Water is good.”
She looks almost grateful. I wouldn’t be surprised if declining her hospitality would have earned her more bruises.
“Do you know where Red is?”
The girl blinks up at me, as if trying to place the name, then shakes her head.
“The guy in charge?” I add before taking a few gulps from the water bottle.
Her eyes drop to the floor. “Oh,MasterRed?”
Jesus.
“I don’t know, Sir. He could be anywhere.” The last is a bit breathy, like she’s suddenly wondering where hecouldbe…and if that might be somewhere close. Goosebumps break out on her skin.
“Thank you.”
It’s an effort to turn away from someone who looks so lost and broken, but I can’t risk anyone spotting me standing here, talking to the help. I need to find Charlotte and get us both the fuck out of here, and the only way I can think of doing that is by hunting down Red.
The first level has several doorways. Most are locked, but the two that do open reveal playrooms. One with sex furniture upholstered in black and red leather, the other with medical equipment clustered around a dentist’s chair and a shiny steel gurney. I can make out faint sounds behind some of the closed doors I pass, but nothing recognizable. Whoever did the soundproofing in this place must have retired after this gig.
The second level has fewer doors, and one of them is standing open. The smell of cigar smoke hits me several yards away, the sound of voices a few steps later.
