The Wild Side: Urban Fantasy with an Erotic Edge (32 page)

Before he headed to the main floor, Chan even checked the two unisex restrooms, but each was only a tiny utilitarian space with a toilet, a sink, a paper towel dispenser, a wicker trash can, and a large box of condoms.

Chan headed down the left-wall balcony and onto the stage. It was reasonably deep, about twenty feet, and ended in an exposed brick wall. There was no backstage area. He checked above him, to where lights once would have hung, but all that remained was a lot of empty black-metal rigging.

Four women now shared the stage. He ignored them as he walked slowly along the back wall, thumping gently on the brick with the heavily calloused knuckles of his left hand. No hidden doorway.

Chan made his way to the room ahead of him that housed the raised dirt pit, the one where the vampire woman had been drinking from the large hairless man. As he rounded the corner of the room, he saw through the large window that the two of them were still there, though she was now sitting in a chair with the man curled at her feet. The onlookers had dispersed, the show over. Chan opened the door and entered the room.

The vampire smiled at him. “I’m full right now. Sorry.”

Chan said nothing but kept an eye on her as he checked the dirt as he had the pit upstairs.

Her expression changed from sated to nervous as he poked around in the dirt.

That raised his hopes, but he found nothing.

As he wiped his sleeve clean, she crooked a finger at him. “We could always play later,” she said.

He stepped toward the door.

“Come here,” she said, “and I’ll tell you just how much fun we could have.”

Chan shook his head and took another step.

She looked down and whispered, so softly he barely heard her, “Sam.”

He stopped, turned, and reached for her throat. “What—”

She grabbed his outstretched arm and yanked him toward her. “Like to play rough, do you?” As his head neared hers and his other arm grabbed her throat, she whispered, “They’re watching. Act as if you’re pulling back.” She laughed and in a normal tone said, “Not as strong as you look.” She licked his cheek and then his ear. She paused there and continued in a rushed whisper interrupted every few words by another lick, “Matt turned Sam and put him in the little park near the Hyatt across from the Ferry Building. There are three guards. Finish searching here so Matt doesn’t know I spoke to you. Then go get Sam. I liked him. He didn’t deserve this.”

Chan turned his head so he could look her in the eyes. Her fear was clear.

“Too good to play with me?” she said. “Even after all that?” She pushed him away. “Fine. Go.” Under her breath, she added, “Threaten me.”

Chan nodded. He pushed on the wall to clear space between him and then grabbed her throat. “Don’t ever touch me again,” he said.

She smiled. “Whatever.”

Chan walked out of the room and toward its counterpart on the other side of the big space. That one was empty, but he’d planned to check its dirt pit, so he maintained his route. He could leave now for that park and give himself more time there to handle the guards. If she was lying, however, he could end up spending so much time getting there and dealing with the guards that he’d miss Sam back here. On the other hand, if Sam was here, it would make no sense for her to encourage him to continue his search. She hadn’t appeared to be lying, but vampires were notoriously good at deceit.

Quickly finishing the search here was as good a choice as he could make. If she was telling the truth, he’d waste a minimum amount of time, and he might give her a chance to get away from Matt and to safety. If she was lying and Sam was here, he had a chance to find him.

Chan headed back to the front of the main floor and from there to the stairs that ran along the right wall and down to the basement.

Where the main floor was high ceilings and spaces open for easy viewing, this level was a warren of small, dark rooms with limited access. He walked the perimeter first to get a sense of the area. Draped rooms barely large enough for two occupants lined the right, rear, and left walls. Most were open. He briefly pushed aside the drapes of those with occupants, most of whom were engaged in various kinds of sex and didn’t let his interruption stop them. All of these rooms, like the hallways, had concrete floors.

A single wide room ran across the front portion of the basement. In its center stood a three-foot-tall faux stone altar made of wood and paint. It looked like it had started life as a giant wooden box, the sort of thing that might have held a piece of heavy machinery before someone turned it on its side, painted it so it resembled an ancient stone altar, and slapped a four-by-eight piece of three-quarter-inch plywood on top of it. A short, fat man was tied spread-eagle to four eyelets in the altar top, whose edges hung half a foot on each side over the base. Two women stood on either side of him and swatted him gently with small whips. Another dozen people ringed the altar and egged them on, urging them to hit him harder, to see what he could take. Matt stood in the far corner of the room watching the scene; three large male staffers filled the other corners.

Chan raised an eyebrow at Matt.

Matt shrugged.

Chan eased around the crowd and over to Matt. “What makes this worth your time?”

A large smacking sound caught Chan’s attention. One of the women had switched to a heavier whip and was using it on the man’s thighs. He grunted with obvious pain each time she hit him.

Matt leaned closer to Chan. “If anyone’s going to get carried away and do something stupid, they’re usually going to do it here. Those women are regulars; the guy’s a newbie. He thinks he can take a lot, but he can’t take what they can give him. The one with the big whip has a tendency to become . . . enthusiastic. We’re down a few staffers tonight, so I’m helping make sure everyone exits gracefully when he says he’s had enough.”

Chan shook his head. “What a way to make money.”

“It’s a way to make a lot of money,” Matt said.

“Enjoy your games. If Sam’s here, I’ll find him.”

“I already told you,” Matt said. “He’s not.”

Chan headed out of there to the rows of play spaces, four on a side, that formed the center of the basement. The corner rooms all offered dirt play areas. The rest held beds and slings and metal crosses and other stuff Chan didn’t recognize, all of it on concrete floors. None of the corners was occupied, so Chan was able to search them quickly. He picked up his pace, time slipping away from him. The two staffers patrolling these spaces shook their heads as he poked the dirt holes but left him alone.

He found nothing.

The woman vampire had been right, and now he’d wasted more precious time. It was nearly one, so he had only an hour left, maybe two, but maybe even less.

He took the stairs two at a time to the main level and pushed his way through the crowded bar and out the main doors.

No cabs were in sight.

He pulled out his phone to look up the number of a cab company and order one, but before he could complete the search, a white and green taxi pulled to the curb in front of the club. Two men and a woman climbed out of the back seat.

As they were paying the cabbie, Chan cut in front of the two men who were about to get into the vehicle.

“I need this cab,” he said.

“So do we,” the nearer one said. He pointed at half a dozen other people who were waiting behind him. “And so do all those people.”

Chan stepped between him and the car. “Not as much as I do.” He pulled his money clip from his right front pants pocket and peeled off a bunch of twenties. “For your ride and theirs.” He swung into the cab and flashed a hundred at the driver. “Ignore them. Take me to the garden behind the Hyatt across from the Ferry Building. Get me there as fast as you can, and this is yours.”

The woman nodded and gunned the car forward. “What’s so important there?”

Chan stared at the rearview mirror until she caught his eye.

“No problem,” she said. “Do you mind if I play music?”

“Yes,” he said.

She shrugged. “Your money, your ride.”

He nodded, partly in agreement with her, partly by reflex, most of his attention directed inward. He would search for signs of recent digging. There should be guards, probably near the grave. Matt would have to make an appearance for Sam to finish, but until he did he would have men in place. He’d hate losing that control over the process, but it was the only way he could run the club as usual—and misdirect Chan with his presence there.

It had almost worked. If the vampire hadn’t tipped him, Chan would still be there, growing ever more frantic because he’d searched everywhere there was any dirt at all, everywhere there even might be dirt.

Chan took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and rolled his neck on his shoulders.

The cab sped down the wide street toward the bay.

He’d be there soon enough. There was time. He might be cutting it close, but the tip had saved him. If the two teams in the alley were any indication at all of the quality of Matt’s people, handling the guards would neither be much trouble nor take much time.

Matt’s people.

Something about them bothered him.

He’d seen only two upstairs, another four on the main floor, two more walking the basement halls.

And three more, plus Matt, in that one room.

Four of them, a dozen onlookers watching two women whip a man tied to a raised wooden altar.

Raised.

Raised three feet off the ground.

With a four-by-eight plywood top.

A three-foot-deep, three-foot-wide, seven-foot-long container, plenty big enough to hold a shallow grave’s worth of dirt.

And a body.

Damn.

“Take me back to Changes,” Chan said, “as fast as you can.”

“We’re almost at the Hyatt.”

He peeled off another hundred and handed it to her. “For this part of the trip. Another when we get back.”

“Mister, are you okay?” she said. “I mean, I appreciate it, but if you’re sick—”

He leaned forward and cut her off. “Drive! I’m fine, but I have to get back there. Now!”

“Okay,” she said. “It’s your money.”

Chan clenched his fists and pounded them hard onto his thighs. Stupid. He’d bought the vampire’s story. He’d bought Matt’s safety explanation. Matt had played him perfectly.

He had to hope his original estimates were right and he still had time.

To focus himself, he visualized each step. Get there. Pay the cab. In the front door. To the stairs on the right. Down them. Back to the room. Deal with whatever he found there.

He couldn’t see past that, because he didn’t know what he’d find.

He didn’t even know if he could take four of them in that small a space. Matt would close the area, and Chan would be alone in it with all four of them.

He’d have to figure it out.

The driver pushed the car faster through the streets.

He’d be there soon.

He hoped it would be soon enough.

* * *

He dropped the second hundred on the seat next to the cabbie and was out of the car before she could pick it up. He wanted to sprint for the door but made himself walk instead. Matt could have alerted his staff, so they’d be looking for any excuse to throw him out—any excuse that the other people in the club would buy. Matt wouldn’t risk a scene in front of all those customers.

At the front door, Chan showed his wristband to the man by the door and said, “Forgot to say goodbye.”

The guy made a show of inspecting the band but finally waved in Chan when the people behind him in line started to complain.

Chan headed for a group of three men and three women crowded in a corner, drinking and laughing. As he approached them, he pulled out his money clip. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but I could really use your help.”

Their conversation stopped. They all stared at him as if he had pissed on their shoes.

He held up his money clip so they could easily see the thick wad of hundreds. “I’ve giving a friend of mine a special show in the basement,” he said. “He loves an audience, and I want to make this great for him. Would you be willing to come watch?”

“Just watch?” the woman nearest him on his right said. In her incredibly tall, see-through heels she stood almost eye to eye with him. “We don’t play outside our group.”

Chan nodded. “Just watch.” He cleared his throat. “Look, this is really important to me, so I’m willing to give a hundred each to the first dozen people who come with me. No obligation. I’m not soliciting anything. I just want an audience.” He peeled off six of the bills. “That’s it.”

“Are you some kind of cop?” the woman said. “We don’t need that shit here. We’re not doing anything wrong. You’re not going to entrap us.”

Chan couldn’t afford to invest more time. He stuffed the money in his pants and held up his hands. “No, I’m not,” he said. “Forget the money if it bothers you. I want an audience. That’s it.”

The woman made eye contact with each of the others in turn and then shrugged. “Sure, we’re game. If it turns out to be fun, you can buy us drinks later. If you’re bullshitting us, though, we’ll tell everyone we know about you, and you’ll find this place a whole lot colder the next time you visit.”

“Thanks,” he said. He wasn’t willing to spend more time finding others. Six would have to do. “Follow me.”

He led them down the stairs into the basement and straight to the large room. Floor-to-ceiling faded black drapes had been pulled from each side to cover it completely. A closed for cleaning sign hung from the ties that held the two drapes together in the center. One of the men in a Changes shirt stood, arms crossed and legs spread, beside the sign. His eyes flickered in recognition when he saw Chan, but he otherwise did not react.

“I thought you said—” the tall woman said to Chan.

He cut her off. “It’s invitation-only.” He picked up speed, feinted toward the man, and then walked into the room in the gap between the left side of the drapes and the wall. “Come on in.”

“You can’t—” the staffer by the center of the drapes began.

Chan didn’t hear the rest because he was inside, holding the curtain aside, yelling “Follow me,” to the people with him, turning his head, and seeing in an instant—