and Archer had been able to acquire for us, the last time it had been used was over three months ago. It was dark, save for the one light softly illuminating a single spot on the floor. Smirking, I set the chair there along with the rope I’d had coiled over my arm.
One benefit to conducting business in a sex club is that no one finds it even remotely odd when someone carries duct tape, rope, and a chair into a soundproofed room.
Once I had everything set up, I retraced my steps in search of the bastard whose name was practically etched on the side of my syringe. Jaxson Norrison, an all-around piece of fucking shit, and I had plenty in mind to take care of him. I just had to find him first. The syringe clutched in my hand was hard and slim, my fingers brushing over the smooth side and ridged cap. The pants I wore helped keep the item concealed with enough space for me to keep a good grip on it for whenever I needed to use it. I had some time before I had to have him in our designated location, but the sooner I got him there, the sooner I could have my fun.
After counting to a hundred, I reached the main floor once again and walked through the same hallway Wolf and Scarlett had disappeared into earlier. I had expected Jaxson to be harder to locate, sitting in a darkened booth or alcove until he found what he was looking for, but at the end of another hall, stood my target.
Tall, lean, wearing a pair of tight pants and a black silk shirt, his eyes were trained on something I couldn’t see. Taking a steadying breath, I uncapped the syringe hidden in my pocket and started to stumble down the hall, taking a cue from Scarlett’s previous play at the hotel.
“Oh fuck, dude! So-o sorry,” I hiccupped when I rammed into him mid-trip.
“It’s fine,” he tried to say, cringing as I clutched tightly to his bicep as if I really was drunk and going to fall, but before he could shove me off or say anything more, I stabbed the syringe into the side of his neck. He got one good hit in, a pained groan leaving me at the sharp sting from his fist as it hit me in the gut, but the tranquilizer worked too fast for him to do anything else.
“Nighty-night, asshole,” I muttered under my breath, holding him up when he slumped. Glancing over, I found a woman strung up on a St. Andrews cross, her face covered in a leather mask. At least it wasn’t Scarlett and Wolf, I thought, shuddering at the thought of how Scarlett would have felt being watched by her psychotic ex. Heaving him down the hall, I left the Dom and his sub to their fun and headed to our predetermined room—one I’d requested under Jaxson’s name with one of the monitors beforehand. If anything came back on us for this room—it would all be recorded under him.
It took a bit of work to get him into the room and I was out of breath by the time I had him bound and gagged on the chair. I searched, finding only a single knife cleverly hidden in the waistband of his pants, so I tucked it away in my pocket next to the used syringe. Now all I had to do was wait for the light sedative to wear off. Gauging his weight and height and muscle mass, I expected it would be within the next thirty minutes or so. Just enough time for me to get in my own brand of vengeance. I scowled, a burning rage building within me the longer I stared at the man.
There was nothing particularly special about him. Nothing that screamed “monster.” He looked just like any other man. Except I knew that not all things were as they appeared. Most people assumed that because I preferred to work behind the scenes—pulling the strings so to speak—that I wasn’t capable of true wickedness. They were wrong, of course, I thought as I rolled up my sleeves. I was capable of things and I certainly didn’t wear my sins pasted on my skin.
This man, however, I wanted him to. I wanted him to bear scars on his body, like the scars that he had put inside of my girl. There was nothing I’d learned in my searches when