Dark and Damaged: Eight Tortured Heroes of Paranormal Romance: Paranormal Romance Boxed Set (102 page)

A waitress in a skimpy leopard costume glided by. He grabbed two glasses of champagne from the tray and handed one to Keely.

“No thanks,” she said. “I can’t afford to lose any mental focus.” She tried to give it back but he refused.

“Keep it. You’ll fit in better if you’ve got a cocktail or a champagne flute in your hand.”

He inclined his head in the direction of the upper level that looked down on the main floor. “Let’s go up there to get a better view of the place.”

He took her hand and forged a path through the crowd. They skirted around a couple where the man was unfastening the woman’s bodice. One of her breasts popped out just as they passed and the man groaned. Another couple was kissing at the bottom of the stairs, and two women on a nearby bench were doing the same thing.

Sexual displays of affection were commonplace in Cascadia, but not over here. Things were bound to get crazier as the liquor flowed and the night wore on.

When they got to the glass landing suspended halfway between the two floors, Keely’s hand tightened around his.

“It’s him!”

He stopped, sliding his hand to the small of her back. “Who?”

“The same Psychic-Talent who was chasing me. I can sense him.”

“Where?”

“Upstairs,” she said, chewing nervously on her lip. “But he’s coming this way.”

“No worries, Kitten. You’ve got this.” He stepped her backwards until they were against the railing. Tilting her chin up, he stroked his thumb along her jaw and watched as the tension in her face disappeared. Her arms slipped around his neck and he felt the now-familiar sizzle of her Talent’s energy as she shielded their thoughts.

“You look beautiful in that wig. The whole outfit, actually.” He nuzzled her neck and she shivered. “But then, you could be wearing a burlap sack and I’d find it impossible to keep my hands off of you.”

“Really?” she asked, arching a brow. “Because I love your hands on me.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man making his way down the stairs, heading straight for them. He was speaking into a tiny microphone clipped to his ear. Toryn shifted protectively in front of her.

“That can easily be arranged.” He dipped his head and kissed her, slipping the tips of his fingers into her corset and finding her nipple right there. Damn. If this thing slipped any lower, her breasts would be on display for anyone to see. A wave of possessiveness swept over him.

She is mine
.

Keely moaned into his mouth, and he felt himself get harder.

“He’s…he’s gone,” she said breathlessly.

“That’s nice,” he said without stopping. Her nipple was erect between his fingers.

“Toryn, if you don’t stop, I might…”

“You might what?” he asked, pressing the length of his cock against her hip.

“I might—oh God—I might come. We cannot…do…this…here.”

Was she serious? She moaned softly. Holy Fates. She was. “Why not?”

“We’re surrounded by people.”

He pushed his thigh between hers, forcing her legs apart, and squeezed her nipple harder. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

Her fingers dug into his shoulders. “Toryn, please.”

“Please what?” he whispered against her neck, pressing his leg to her core. “Stop?”

She gave a little gasp, and her whole body trembled in his arms.

When it was over, he chuckled under his breath and brushed a blue strand of hair from her face. “Holy Fates, Kitten. That was hot.”

Keely’s cheeks were flushed. “Yeah, it was.”

When they got to the second floor, they threaded their way through the throngs of people and headed toward the railing. It was definitely an older crowd up here, Toryn thought. More men with gray hair and paunches, several with trophy wives or girlfriends hanging on their arms.

From their vantage point, he could see a narrow hallway on the first floor behind the DJ booth. It was cordoned off with a burly man in a tuxedo monitoring the comings and goings.

“There,” Toryn said in a low voice. “That hallway.”

She nodded. “It looks like a good place to start.”

But before they could head back downstairs, the volume of the music came down and a voice boomed out.

On a large monitor above the stage was a balding man with a round, jowly face wearing a tuxedo. “Welcome to Aphrodistic. Where all your sexual fantasies, sadistic or otherwise, come true.”

“That’s him,” Toryn said under his breath. “That’s Reaux.”

Keely grabbed his arm. “Why is he on the monitor? Why isn’t he here in person?”

“Before we get tonight’s erotic cabaret started,” Davin Reaux was saying, “I’d like to say a special hello to our VIP guests, watching from a remote live feed.” He lifted his glass in a toast.

Everyone looked around, trying to figure out whom he was referring to.

For the first time, Toryn noticed that the second level where they stood didn’t wrap the entire way around the club. On the other wall, six huge monitors were hung in a grid—three rows of two. One by one the monitors lit up as the people on the other end activated their feeds. First was 2B, where three businessmen in suits were lounging on black leather couches. They were being served by three beautiful naked women.

The man next to Toryn elbowed him. “The guy in the middle looks like the founder of Gupsie. Glad I don’t own stock.”

Toryn didn’t know what that was, so he just nodded tersely.

3B was the next monitor to light up, revealing a group of young men who were panning the camera, holding up their beers.

“Looks like they’re on spring break,” someone behind him said. “Hey, isn’t that Jason Jones from the Portland Eruption?”

“Where?” said another voice.

“The one in the back getting a blow job.”

Soon, all of the monitors were lighting up. Men in suits, tuxedos and caftans surrounded by beautiful women. Every monitor except 2A. People started to go back to what they were doing, assuming that 2A was empty or wanted to remain anonymous, when the monitor suddenly flashed. It showed one man standing in front of the camera, legs shoulder-width apart, hands crossed over his chest. With a thick neck and broad, boxy shoulders, he had the body of a professional wrestler. At his side was a voluptuous redhead on her knees. Blindfolded with her hands tied behind her back, she had a collar around her neck, and the man was holding the leash.

Keely gasped. “Oh my God, that’s her!”

He scanned the monitors for a blonde girl. There were several. “Which one?”

“The girl in 2A,” she said, clutching his arm for support.

Toryn looked again. “Are you sure? I thought your sister was blonde.”

“She is,” Keely choked. “They must have colored her hair. But that’s Becca all right. See the tattoo on her shoulder? It’s a butterfly. Same as mine. We’ve got matching tattoos.”

The music picked up tempo as dread coiled in his gut.

Those were video feeds. Which meant that Reaux, and more importantly, Keely’s sister, could be anywhere.

What was she going to do now?

Keely was in the restroom trying to clean off the mascara under her eyes with a paper towel. She’d cried in Toryn’s arms when she realized that Becca wasn’t at the club but at an unknown location with a sadistic asshole who had her on a leash. What had he done to her? What was he
going
to do to her? She couldn’t bear to think about what her sister was going through. All she wanted to do was bring her home. And see Reaux brought to justice.

The music got louder as the door opened, and a man walked in. She bristled and looked away.

Damn co-ed washrooms.

She hated looking into a mirror—redoing makeup, fixing her hair, or in her case, wiping off tears—if random men were using the sink next to her. For God’s sake, the tampon machine was right next to the condom dispenser.

Not wanting to run into a Psychic-Talent security guard on her own, she hurried to get out of here. There was something about being with Toryn that gave her more confidence in herself and her abilities. If she’d known that the restroom was co-ed, she would have made him come with her.

The door opened and closed again. Bracing herself to see another creep, she turned around and was shocked as hell to come face-to-face with Verla. She wore a tiny French maid costume and the same collar as many of the other waitstaff.

Before she could say anything or throw her arms around her friend, Verla gave a little shake of her head and slipped Keely a napkin. Then without a word, she went into one of the stalls and locked the door behind her.

Thirty minutes later, just as the note instructed, Keely and Toryn were waiting in the alley behind the club, the same alley where she’d climbed out the window a few short weeks ago.

The door opened and Verla emerged carrying two white plastic trash bags.

“Verla, oh my God, what happened? The news vlogs reported you went missing. You’re not working here, are you?”

Verla barked out a harsh laugh. “Not voluntarily.” She fingered the collar at her throat. “It’s a shock collar. Can you believe that? Like we’re dogs or something. Get too far away, and you’ll be in the worst pain you can imagine.”

“Can we cut it off?”

“With what? Do you happen to have a spare pair of tin snips lying around?”

Hardening his jaw, Toryn turned away from them and punched a few buttons on his phone.

“Do you have any idea where Becca is?” Keely asked.

“I’m not sure,” Verla replied, “but when Iris, Mr. Reaux’s executive assistant, was in the other day, she got a call from a delivery service. Apparently, they were having trouble delivering something to one of the islands. I heard her spell it out for him. I’d never heard of it before. I remembered it because it was such a strange name.”

“What name?”

“Cluck Island, I think. Have you ever heard of it?”

Keely took a step backward and clapped a hand over her mouth. She’d been to Cluck Island many times. Her father used to hold religious retreats there. They’d get there by boat and park in a slip at the tiny marina.

***

Toryn stood on the bridge next to Keely, training the binoculars on the small island looming ahead of them. Another thirty minutes and they’d be there.

Keely navigated her family’s thirty-seven-foot cabin cruiser like an expert through the chilly waters of Puget Sound. Although it had been years, the marina hadn’t changed the access code, nor had her father changed the spot where he hid the boat key.

After they cut off Verla’s tracking collar and took her home, the warriors had met up at Sisters Books and Fortunes to plan their next move. When Keely told them she knew how to get to the island on her family’s boat, it was decided that all the warriors would come.

The engine didn’t turn over at first, but Toryn rattled a few wires and it started right up.

“How did it get the name Cluck Island?” Olivia asked Keely.

“Years ago, a ship ran aground on the island with a cargo of live chickens. Since there are no natural predators except for eagles, the chicken population grew.”

“Are they still there now?”

She shook her head. “No, not since my father started holding retreats on the island. They rounded them all up.”

Asher hadn’t been crazy about Olivia coming with them, but as a Healer, her Talent might be necessary. Vince and Zara were out on the bow. Vince’s Talent, being able to find portals, wouldn’t be put to use, but Zara’s—the ability to cloak herself—might. Vince hadn’t wanted her to come either. They had a son back in Cascadia with grandma, and they’d recently found out they were expecting another child. But Zara insisted, saying she couldn’t sit back like an invalid while innocent girls were being hurt.

Konal stood off by himself while Sean stayed inside on his computer. He’d pulled up the current charts as well as the weather forecast. They were expecting some higher swells, but a storm warning hadn’t been issued. At least, not yet.

Keely dropped anchor on the other side of the island from the main lodge because there was less chance of being spotted. She doubted any of the VIPs or Reaux would be taking any nature walks through the woods. That wasn’t why they were here.

They broke up in teams. Because of Zara’s Talent, she and Vince would go in cloaked to find Becca and bring her out. The rest of the warriors would take up positions outside the compound, ready to take action.

Knowing Keely couldn’t stay put and not be involved, Toryn asked her to be in charge of rowing the group onto shore.

“Wait for us here.”

“But—”

“Keely, I’m serious.” He cupped her face in his hands and gave her a hard kiss. “This is a dangerous mission. Iron Guild warriors only. Your job is to stay here and get us back to the boat. We’ll find your sister. I promise.”

Patience was definitely not one of her virtues.

Hands shoved into her pockets with her collar turned up to block the icy wind, Keely paced back and forth along the rocky beach in front of the dingy.

“Be ready for us,” he’d said.

The crescent moon was high in the sky above the
Dee-Light,
named after her mother, which was bobbing on the choppy waves in the tiny inlet.

“I
am
ready for us,” she said aloud to herself, her words carried away in the wind.

She wanted a future with Toryn, couldn’t imagine what her life would be like without him. She wanted to wake up next to him tomorrow, next month, ten years from now. He’d been there for her when no one else had, and she wanted him to truly accept that she’d never betray him. He’d been through a lot, just as she had, and the thought of hurting him was almost unbearable.

As she waited for him, she walked along the beach, the same beach that had held the fateful bonfire that changed everything. Although Becca had been a senior in high school and Keely just a sophomore, she’d always let her little sister tag along. Keely had always tried hard to fit in with Becca and her friends—a little too hard.

The prank had been Keely’s idea. She’d figured Becca would say it was stupid and childish, but she hadn’t. So, fueled by the poor judgment of too many beers, they teamed up and implanted the suggestion that Cory and Jeff should kiss. Thinking back on it now, it really was a hilarious prank. Two macho, completely-hetero-to-the-point-of-homophobic football players kissing on the lips in front of the bonfire. To say they had not been happy about it was an understatement. The shit pretty much hit the fan after that.