If you're looking for an adventure in the morally grey, and a crash course of the human condition, this is the story for you! What is good and evil? Where is that line drawn, and who decides that? Packed with humor, danger, feels, and awkward relati...
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It had been impossible to reach Tanner for almost a week now, and she was out of other options. There was no way to ask Nathan to talk to him. That would piss Tanner off worse than anything, and she couldn't just waltz up to the pen's door. She was desperate, enough so to be at one of Oliver's establishments. It was a larger compound on the other side of town and the third place she'd hit in her search of the deranged Italian crime head. Even here, they had been about to throw her out the door until one of them recognized her. Whether it was because of her father or Tanner, she had no idea, but it had gotten her foot in the door.
It hadn't been hard to beat the details of the Moceri crime syndicate's territory out of her father under the pretense of discussing crime in the city. The moron had taken that as political interest and had provided the information willingly, so she knew where the less street known heart of it was. Right where she was standing.
Two men escorted her to the back, but they were silent. It might have been because they were thugs, or because they didn't speak anything but Italian. A lot of the muscle that the enforcers used didn't speak more English than stop, die, and beg. The chatter of the active bar dulled to a hum as they went further back than she expected the building to go. It was much larger than just one establishment on the end of the corner; it was a whole complex hidden within alley store fronts and warehouses, all inter connected.
Their adventure ended in a dead end hallway with two huge doors to one side, and her shoulder guards knocked as they arrived. The sound was hollow and echoed as if it were a metal dungeon door that had been carved out to hide contraband in. At least in this section of the place, the air was fresher and the smell of smoke was muted. That was all that it had going, because the lights over head buzzed like a swarm of wasps coming for her, and she swallowed a lump in her throat as a voice echoed back through the door.
"Enter."
Rachel knew that grim rumble. Oliver was here. The men didn't walk her in, but instead opened the door and ushered for her to go herself. That was so much worse, willingly walking to her grave. It would have been better if they'd thrown her at his feet. There was no other way to reach Tanner though, so she walked through the threshold into Oliver's dungeon, and the doors screeched shut behind her, the hinges needed a serious workup.
It didn't take long for her to regret it.
Before she could even look at Oliver, her eyes were drawn to the wall, and she swallowed down her weak stomach contents. All matter of things hung from hooks on the wall; harnesses, gags, collars, cuffs, hoods, restraints, and a variety of whip like accessories. This was a sex room. Well, more like a bdsm play room.
The damn room was like a throne room for a king, which she doubted was accidental. The expanse of floor was concrete, and she didn't need to look to know there were manacles in places to hold people up in to the wall and tables in the corners to tie people down. The only thing it didn't have was a bed, which seemed counterproductive to the whole act, but what did she know?.
