Page 26 of Morgue
“Um, well, first of all, do you still mean it when you told me you were mine as long as I wanted you?”
He pulled back, frowning at me. “Yeah. I meant it.” He looked like he was sensing a trap, but also like he was pissed I’d make him repeat his promise.
“I only ask because I never want you to not be mine. And I want to never not be yours either.”
His frown deepened. “Neither of those things will happen. I’m yours. You’re mine. End of story.” Yeah, that was kind of cute. Not that I’d ever tell him.
“Well, you see, if that’s the case, I mean, do you believe in getting married and stuff?”
“Yeah, Dorothy,” he said. His frown not showing any signs of letting up. “I do. And you will absolutely marry me. You get me? Also, you need to know being my old lady makes you part of Iron Tzars. You ain’t a member, but you’re a permanent part of this club. We don’t divorce. I keep you happy, you stay with me. Forever. Not up for negotiation. No one leaves the Tzars.”
I had to hold back a grin and barely managed. I didn’t figure this was a good time for him to feel like I was laughing at him. I wasn’t. It was just so cute the way he thought I’d balk and not want to stay with him.
“Yeah. I get you. And if you’re good to me -- which I know you will be -- then I won’t want to leave.” I bit my lip then. “Which brings me to the second question.”
He lifted his chin. “What.”
“Well, I’d kind of like to know, um, your name?”
There was silence. Morgue’s lips parted, then he closed them again. With a sigh, he lay back on top of me and kissed me again. This time it was slow and languid. He didn’t stop for a long time. When he did, he put his lips by my ear and whispered, “My name’s Max,” he said. “Max Grimwood.”
Then Max “Morgue” Grimwood, the most deadly man in a club full of deadly men, gave me the most wonderful, lust-filled ride of my life.
Several times.
And I loved every blistering second of it!
Chapter Ten
Morgue
The plan was simple. It was Friday night. The women I was looking for always went to the same club. Wylde confirmed they were still on for the evening by hacking into their phones and monitoring their phone calls and texts. There were three of them. I had Stitches, Deacon, Blaze, and Ace with me to remove the women from the club, and Clutch driving the cage to take us out of the city.
Once again, Deke from Bones was waiting in a secluded area an hour outside of Lawrence, Kansas. He’d fly us back to a point just outside of Evansville, to an abandoned farm that just happened to be owned by someone who didn’t exist but which had advanced security protecting it from prying eyes. And the occasional hunter. Sting and the rest of the officers would meet us there. We had a barn with a basement specially made for situations like this. Because these women were going to die. Just not right away, because we needed more information from them.
The club the women frequented was small but loud. It worked in our favor in that no one would care if they screamed. Hell, everyone was screaming. The bass thumped, and partiers jumped around in what I assumed was dancing. The only thing I really cared about was getting the three women out of here without anyone noticing anything was wrong. Wylde was on the cameras and all of us who’d gone inside the club had covered up our tattoos just in case. Nothing was foolproof.
It was kind of fitting. They’d brought Dorothy to a club and let her be drugged and kidnapped. So, when I watched as Deacon slipped a Molly in the drink of the woman he was flirting with, I couldn’t help but smirk. What was that movie line? Life’s a bitch, and her stripper name is Karma. Yeah. I didn’t feel sorry for the bitch. None of them.
The same scene was playing out with Ace and Blaze. All three men plied the women with booze and Ecstasy. One of them started feeling the effects pretty quickly, though it seemed to make her more compliant and happy rather than energetic. She was easily gotten to the cage. The other two took an hour before they were flying so high they were agreeable to anything. Once we were all in the cage, Clutch took off for the rendezvous point with Deke.
“I can make you feel realmente bueno, el cariño.” This was the woman with the residence on the outskirts of Cancún. Since we’d been in the SUV, she’d slipped from English to Spanish and back several times. She was currently all over Deacon.
“Sure you could.” Deacon looked disgusted, his nose wrinkling as if smelling something decidedly unpleasant. “How about you take a nice nap.” He tried to unwrap her hands from around his neck but, honestly, the woman was like an octopus.
“You taking us to tu casa?”
Ace snorted. “You could say that.”
The woman with Ace had her head in his lap. She was nosing his crotch, but Ace had managed to keep his fly zipped. He stroked her hair absently with an amused grin on his face. I was pretty sure she thought she was giving him a blow job. Stitches looked to be in a similar situation while Blaze’s charge was out cold.
“All right, that’s enough.” Stitches shoved the woman with her head in his lap upright. She screeched but said nothing intelligible. Stitches zip-tied her hands behind her back and her legs at the ankles. When she continued to scream, he shoved a rag in her mouth and used a strip of duct tape to cover it. “This is fuckin’ ridiculous,” he snapped. “Tie and gag the other two.” Stitches was the ranking club officer on this trip, but he rarely gave orders. Not like this.
“Thank Christ,” Deacon said.
“Oh! Papá likes a little kink.” I thought her name was Maria, but I didn’t really care. What I did care about was the fact this woman was the ringleader, according to Wylde. And Wylde would never have made that kind of accusation unless he knew for sure.
“Yeah, Papa likes kink,” Deacon muttered. “Just not with skanky cunts like you.”