Page 47 of Desperate Victory

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Page 47 of Desperate Victory

“Last week,” I told him.

“I’ll take care of it.” Then he grinned as he held out his hand. I gripped it. The smile was utterly at odds with the reason for us being here. “Hamilton is gonna be over here in seconds after you leave. So don’t mind me, I’m going to wander off and make him craz—ier. Make him crazier.”

With that, Jason turned and strode away like he didn’t have a care in the world and a huff of laughter escaped me. Who knew? The man had a bit of a twisted sense of humor. Kind of wished I’d known this about him all along.

“Can we trust him?” Bodhi asked.

“Not sure,” I admitted. “But I’m willing to find out. Whether he can find out anything for us, it’s no harm if he can’t.”

“True.” Bodhi said. A moment later, Hamilton was stalking across the room in the direction that Jason had disappeared. “He does know his brother.”

That he did.

“Let’s find our girl and her grandfather and get out of here. I’ve had enough of this ass kissing contest. No one here really liked Harper.” I didn’t want them kissing my ass. Everyone would be figuring out things had changed soon enough.

Chapter

Fifteen

LAINEY

We’d barely returned to the city after Harper’s “memorial service” when the Vandals arrived at Bodhi’s place. Em was with them and it was time to put our heads together for the plan. We were going to be using private jets to get to Europe and not one of ours directly—we were borrowing from friends.

As much as I wanted to stay and catch up with Em, Bodhi murmured in my ear that Hans had called. It was an offer for me to go with him and since it had everything to do with his potential sibling as well as Em and Pretty Boy’s, I agreed.

“We’ll be back soon,” I promised Pretty Boy with a light kiss. He gave me a steady look then glanced at Bodhi before he nodded.

“Go armed, Mayhem. Watch Bodhi’s back.”

“Good thing he has a nice ass.” The light comment had Em whipping around to stare at me as Pretty Boy grinned.

While Ezra and Adam both looked like they wanted to go, they refrained from insisting. I left them each with a kiss. They’d work out the finer points while we went to get information.

I was still dressed in unrelieved black, but it was slacks, a tucked in turtleneck, and a jacket that hid my gun holster neatly. The boots had room for knife sheathes in them. Apparently, Bodhi hadn’t been kidding about wardrobe additions. My baton was in my purse, which made it readily accessible.

Bodhi studied me in the elevator on the way down and when I raised my brows, he shook his head. “Just planning, Buttercup.”

“Should I be intrigued or worried?”

He merely grinned. “Yes.”

Fortunately, our meeting with Hans was not in a sex club. As titillating as our adventure to The Underground had been, I didn’t want to spend time on the distractions. There was too much happening, and we were too close to leaving to find Andrea.

Instead, Bodhi drove us to an elegant, Romanesque Revival-style home located in a quiet Sugar Hill neighborhood. The architecture heralded to a more elegant time. It even still had a carriage house, and a receiving door.

Now, it was used by valets who took vehicles to park. Bodhi circled the car to open my door before he handed over the keys. We were not the only arrivals. The couple arriving behind us were dressed a little more formally, his suit and her dress more than acceptable for a business dinner, but maybe not a night out at the opera.

“Are we underdressed?” I asked as Bodhi guided me toward the doors.

“Not at all,” he murmured with just a hint of a smile. A doorman admitted us and offered to take our coats. Since I just had the light jacket, I declined and Bodhi hadn’t bothered with one at all.

Once we were passed the foyer though, I understood that we were far from underdressed. If anything, we were a tad overdressed in a very clothing optional atmosphere.

“It’s a museum,” I murmured, more to myself. One I hadn’t heard of before.

Erotic art decorated the walls, with statues and other objects placed around the room. In the corners, there was living art. A woman on her knees, performing fellatio quite eagerly to a man who seemed on the edge of orgasm.

In another corner, it was a woman who sat in an old style chair, legs spread with a man’s head poking up through the hole. It gave him the perfect access to her cunt, which he was devouring with a singular intent. Very well, based on the noises she was making.




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