Tonight, Nathan and his squad had been tasked with bringing the mysterious club owner in to the Order’s Boston command center for questioning.
“Come on. Let’s go find the bastard.” Ignoring the sharp spike of adrenaline and anxious perspiration injected into the general mélange of stale liquor, smoke, and perfume that hung like a fog in the club, Nathan gestured for his team to follow him deeper inside. “Eli, you and Jax search the public rooms. Rafe and I will take the offices in back.”
With the two warriors heading off on his instructions, Rafe fell in alongside Nathan to cut a path through the crowds on their way to La Notte’s owner’s quarters. There was no security to stop them once they reached Cass’s office, suggesting the man was either working the floor of his club as he so enjoyed or not in the building at all.
Nathan hoped it was the former. If not, this unannounced visit was sure to get back to Cass one way or another, and the Order didn’t want to give the son of a bitch any cause for alarm. They wanted nothing to send him to ground before they could interrogate him about who—or, rather, what—he truly was.
Nathan stalked up to the black-painted steel door with the word PRIVATE scratched into it from the tip of a serrated blade. The dead bolt and secondary lock were no trouble at all for the power of his Breed mind. Nathan freed the bolt and the other tumbled open with little more than a second’s concentration.
He pushed the door wide and Rafe followed him into the darkened office. Neither of them needed artificial light; Breed eyesight was flawless, all the more so in the dark.
Nathan made a quick visual scan of the empty room and cursed. “He’s already gone.”
No sign of Cassian Gray at all. The desk was cleared of all papers and personal effects. No computer tablet lying conveniently in the open for them to confiscate. Nothing but a carefully vacated office.
If Nathan had to guess, he figured Cass had been gone for several hours at least. Maybe a full day or more.
“Dammit,” he gritted through clenched teeth.
Rafe meanwhile had broken into a cabinet of paper files and ledgers on the other side of the room. “Just a bunch of accounting records and supply receipts in here. Bar equipment, liquor invoices, band contracts for the club.” The blond vampire shot Nathan a wry look. “Where do you suppose Cass keeps the books for the real moneymaking parts of this operation? Nothing in here at all that mentions the fight arena downstairs or the gambling, pimping, and blood trading. Nothing in here about the other pursuits La Notte caters to either.”
Nathan grunted. Cass’s illegal and other unconventional activities provided in the restricted-access lower level of his club were no secret, but criminal or not, he was careful to protect the interests of himself and his clientele. The records for those parts of his business were surely kept somewhere far more secure than his office at the club.
No, Cassian Gray was a man who knew when and how to keep his secrets.
Rafe had now abandoned the file cabinets to move farther into the gloomy office space. “Hey, check it out,” he called over his shoulder to Nathan. “There’s another door over here.”
The warrior opened it and blew out a whistle. “You gotta see this, man.”
Nathan walked over to find a bedroom on the other side of the door. A king-size four-poster bed draped in black satin sheets dominated the room. The rails between the posters dripped with leather straps and an assortment of manacles and buckled restraints, a few bearing sharp metal spikes.
Rafe barked out a laugh. “Whoever Cassian Gray is, he’s one twisted fuck.”
Nathan stared at the accoutrements of sexual deviance and torture while his friend and comrade stepped inside to jingle one of the studded harnesses. “Leave it alone, Rafe. We’re wasting time. Cass isn’t here, obviously. Let’s go find the others and get out of here.”
As Rafe dropped the leather strap and they prepared to leave, Jax rushed in to meet them. His face was drawn and grave. “We’ve got a problem.”
“You find Cass?” Nathan asked.
Jax shook his head. “Apparently, we just missed him, if you can believe any of the club staff. The problem is Aric Chase. He’s downstairs at the cages. With Rune.”
“Jesus Christ,” Rafe hissed, coming up beside Nathan.
“Eli’s trying to break it up,” Jax said. “But Aric won’t stand down. Shit’s about to get ugly.”
Nathan growled a curse. “Is Carys here too?”
“Not tonight,” Rafe said. “She’s at the art museum with Jordana Gates. The two of them are hosting a patrons’ reception. They’ve been planning it for months.”
Nathan gave a tight nod, grateful for that small mercy. The last thing Carys Chase needed was to see her twin brother take a beating from the cage-fighting killer who’d recently begun sharing her bed.
If the Breed fighter and the daywalking female had shared anything else—namely a blood bond—Aric wouldn’t be the only member of the Chase family determined to kick Rune’s swarthy ass. Hell, Nathan would likely be willing to join that fight himself too.
He took off at a dead run, heading with Rafe and Jax for the cage arena in the lower level of La Notte. Shouts and roars and bloodthirsty applause thundered from the bowels of the former church.
And no sooner had he descended into the illegal sporting den than Nathan spotted Aric and Rune. They stood in front of the cages, Eli positioned in between them, mostly holding Aric back. Both Breed males were flashing fangs, eyes glowing bright amber in the dim light of the arena.
Nathan scowled at Jax. “What the fuck’s going on?”