Page 43 of Taint My Soul

It’s what I was taught. Once something’s yours, don’t let it go. You go after it with a certain type of conviction sown into your skin.

I’m not saying that the young man is in any way mine, but—

He works for me. He deserves protection just like every other member of my company.

Kurt’s plea turns muffled as I plow in more and more dirt until the ground is level. Then I retreat and take a look at what I’d done.

Perfect.

I pick up the shovel and rope and trek over to where I’d parked my car. I put everything in the trunk and get in, wrapping my hand around the steering wheel. The engine rumbles as it comes to life, and I press on the gas and peel off the road. Hands wrapped tight around the steering, I keep my gaze ahead as I pull out my phone and dial Bernard’s phone number.

“Boss.” His voice crackles through the speaker when he answers the call.

“I need you to do something for me.”

MASON

It’s been two days since I left my room. Two days watching the sun rise and set from the blinds of my window because I couldn’t get myself out of bed. I have had days like this before. Days when I locked myself in my bedroom. No food. No water. Just me curled up on my bed, like lying still will make the drowning feeling in my chest disappear.

I know sooner or later that Vincent will come again.

The last credible information I gave him was when I ran into Saint at the docks.

Speaking of Saint, I didn’t leave a request for a day off or even call in sick. I’m sure I don’t even have a job anymore. He must have replaced me with someone else, but at least my replacement wouldn’t be someone who has it out for him, or someone who’s a spy targeting everything he’s built.

That’s me.

The pawn.

The deception.

All of fucking it.

When my phone buzzes on my nightstand on Thursday night, I don’t even look at my message or bother reaching out. If it were Vincent, he’d be here eventually, so I’ll stay here and wait anyway.

But no one comes.

Through the darkness of the night, and even as the sun rises. No one comes. Not until Friday night.

I hear a consistent bang against the door. It’s enough to compel me to leave my bed to know who’s on the other side. Neo would have kicked the door down if it were him. I stalk down the hall, body wrapped in the bedsheet. I cross into the living room and head to the door, yanking it open and staring at two hefty men in all-black outfits.

I see the Red Horn Club emblem on their T-shirt, and an exhausting sigh escapes me. “Didn’t you get Madame’s message? She wants you at the fucking club.” The man on the left says.

“Can I at least have a shower?”

“No.” He insists.

“Five minutes,” the other man grits. “That’s all you fucking get.”

It doesn’t take long, and we are driving to the Red Horn Club. The city rises around me in neon and golden lights. For some reason, it seems different tonight. Maybe because I’ve been locked up in my apartment for the past two days.

When we get to the club, the two security men take me straight to the next floor. The lift opens into the opaque hallway. The music from the underground club fades to a low thrum beneath the floor. The two bodyguards hover behind me as we walk into the hall.

Sex workers and pole dancers parade through the space, holding low hums of conversation. I see the two workers I met on my first night. Cash and Tiff, if I remember correctly. Tiff stands in front of the large mirror with Cash; he’s helping her adjust the laces of her corset. When he sees me, his eyes shine with familiarity as his lips lift into a smile.

Another worker sprawls opposite the makeup table and tilts their chin toward the mirror, applying lipstick with the focus of a marksman.

Perfume hangs in the air. Rich, intoxicating, and dark. Laughter flares from one corner, quick, bright, and disappears just as fast as it came.