“Have a good night, Josie,” I say, extracting a wad of cash from my pocket and tucking it into the waist band of her tight, red lace panties.
A flush of pink rises to her cheeks, even under this dim light I see it, but I leave her still and head towards the elevators on the other side that’ll take me up to the balcony that overlooks the revelers in the club.
My key card opens the door and muffled noise greets me inside the metal cart. A mixture of the low, erotic music of the underground club and the heavy bass of Club Silver above. The elevator is slow, but I don’t mind as it takes me back up.
In the time it takes to move up levels, I remember the faces I saw, the Mayor and police chief were here tonight, that’s good, buried in the lines of coke offered to them and the girls perched in their laps. The hidden cameras will be enough should they ever step out of line. A couple of high-ranking corporate bodies were there too, a few government officials.
Of course these people would never enter through the main doors, they would slip in behind, down a back alley that would take them through the back entrance and then further down to the club below. Club Silver offered them anonymity, something they’d never get anywhere else. Everyone had a darkness to them though they were never given the opportunity for it to come out. That’s where I come in. I give them what they crave and in return, I get what I need.
When I set up the club this was exactly what I had in mind.
My father was a ruthless leader, but he didn’t have it all planned out.
He went forward on brutality and bloodshed, fear that would stop even the fiercest of men, but I would be smarter. I willstayking, because of my reputation people knew, like a deep-rooted instinct that in this city, they were the prey and me, I was the predator. I didn’t fear that these men would cross me and even if they did, I had plenty of back up to ensure they stayed in line. Images. Transactions. Videos. All of which could be shared to the entire city, to the entire world in fact in a matter of seconds. It is that knowledge that keeps them in my pocket and me on top.
Blackmail.
Every man in this city was riding on power and if you threatened to take that away you could guarantee they’d be on their knees begging. Every damn time.
It makes life a whole lot easier when the cops aren’t breathing down your neck and the mayor is backing your every move without a single question.
And if that didn’t work, well there are other methods of keeping people quiet and in line. Something a lot bloodier. There wasn’t much I wouldn’t do, blood to me was as normal as turning on a tap. A little messier but a whole lot more fun.
The elevator doors slide open though now the clock has struck eleven, the music and atmosphere of the club has changed. The playlist is now blasting out more modern music, hip hop, garage, and the bodies on the dance floor continue to grind. There is no need to grab a drink, one is waiting for me as I exit the elevator and I lift it from the tray, continuing my way forward until I’m at the glass railing and looking down at the floor below.
Ry steps up beside me, “it’s all set, boss.”
He’d started calling me boss about a month after my mother’s death and coming from my closest and longest friend, it took some getting used to. In closed quarters, we were still that, but here, in the open, he was nothing more than a loyal dog, he knew it, I knew it.
I dip my chin in acknowledgment and sip at the scotch in my hand. Behind me a few guys take the affection a couple of the wait staff give them and for now, I allow it. Untilsheshows, they can do whatever the fuck they want.
They’ve earned it after all.
It’s a little past midnight when a security guard steps into my space, “She’s here, Mr Silver,” he whispers close to my ear so only I can hear.
I nod and continue to watch.
She’s a presence to be known. A goddess amongst the mundane. Her unruly copper hair and tight curves draw attention but it’s the look in her eyes that has people stepping away to create a path. Her friend tags along behind, following the tempest that is Wren Valentine.
“Damn,” Ryker chuckles.
I risk a glance his way, taking my eyes off her for a second, “What?”
“I mean, Wren is,” he presses his fingers to his lips and blows a kiss, “but her friend, I’d drop to my knees and promise her the world if I could.”
“You always did like the blondes,” I grumble, turning my attention back to the girl in question.
She makes it to the bar and leans forward, no doubt showing the deep cut of her dress to draw attention. She was beautiful and she knew exactly how to use it. I liked a woman unafraid of using her strengths to her advantage, but I also wasn’t stupid enough to believe that it was only her body she could use to win over the enemy. Her smarts were impressive and if I were any other man, I may even congratulate her on her achievements. But I am not any other man and that girl, leaning over the bar to get what she wanted, was exactly where I needed her to be because I deemed it so.
It’s a matter of moments before she’s served and then she’s passing back a cocktail of some sort to her friend and a simple drink for herself, a beverage with cola I assume judging from the dark colour of it.
With a grin they weave back through the crowd to the dance floor.
I need information from the girl and yet my mind can’t help but snag on the way she moves to the music, the hypnotic way her hips sway and her body curls. She brings her arms up, her hands tucking into the under layers of her hair as she sensually sways to the beat. I’d call it magic if didn’t know any better. She was a fucking siren.
“Fuck,” I hear a guy say behind me, “I’d fucking destroy that.”
I follow his gaze and, low and behold, it’s Wren he’s talking about.