Conor Thames 2

by R. J. Lewis

  This place was hidden for a reason. It wasn’t illegal or anything. It was just not obvious to the public. He guessed it was a strip club.

  Was Charlotte stripping right that very moment? Baring her body to these finely dressed men? The thought tasted sour. Thames was certainly being tested.

  “Violence doesn’t solve shit,” Dominic said, looking across the laundry table at Thames. “You choose your actions, man. When you get out, don’t fuck it up again.”

  But Thames had left the car, pushing Dom’s words to the back of his mind. He wasn’t going to start trouble, but he couldn’t wait around in that fucking car and not do something. Charlotte was in there and he was out here. And god-fucking-dammit, she wasn’t his, she might have been someone else’s, and maybe this was all for nothing, but he couldn’t sit in the dark and not know for certain.

  As he approached the black solid door, his eyes shot up to the camera overlooking the entrance. He didn’t even have to knock. Whoever was watching made sure to deliver the news of arrivals quickly.

  The door opened and a solid man appeared. He looked like your typical bouncer. Hairless, all muscle, dressed in black well-fitted clothes. He almost looked too well-dressed to be a bouncer. He stared expressionless at Thames, growling out, “Card.”

  Thames eyed the man for a moment, aware he could get past him if he really wanted to. He’d fought bigger men in prison before, and while he’d gotten his ass kicked in the beatings, he never stayed down long.

  No. More. Trouble.

  “No card,” he stated, finding his eyes looking over the giant’s shoulder, curious more than ever of what lurked beyond him.

  The muscle didn’t twitch. “Name then.”

  “Conor Thames.”

  If he recognized that notorious name, he didn’t show it. Thames was certain a rock held more emotion than this guy.

  “One moment,” he said, closing the door on Thames’ face before he could respond.

  Thames looked back up at the camera, curious who was looking back. Also hoping beyond hope the person would give him access, though there was logically no reason for that to happen. He’d have to wait in his car and hope to catch her leaving.

  The door opened, and the muscle reappeared. “Come in.”

  What the fuck?

  Hiding his immense surprise, Thames took a moment. Access should not have been this easy, but…it didn’t matter. He walked past him and entered. Feeling wary, he made sure to keep his guard up. There was an entry room, a small little area where two other men sat behind a desk in front of a laptop screen. Upon entering they stood up and looked him over. He was grossly underdressed, even these men were in nice suits. As they approached him, one said, “Empty your pockets.”

  Thames removed the car keys and some cash and set them down on the desk. He didn’t have to ask what followed. He raised his arms wide as the second man walked behind him and gave him a quick yet nosy pat-down. Thames scanned the little windowless room. Impressive little area, done up well with a dangling chandelier overhead, red walls and high-end black furnishings. The men were armed with guns, but they weren’t wary of Thames as they surrounded him. He might have guessed they had expected him, and now he wondered whether Jem had informed someone of his arrival.

  One spoke once the pat down was over. “Like always, keep your hands to yourself unless given permission to do otherwise. There will be no obscene gestures, no name-calling, no harassment of the staff, and do not catcall. You are to be respectful at all times, or you will be swiftly removed from the grounds. Is that understood?”

  Thames nodded, feeling suddenly edgy, not knowing what he would find beyond that next steel door directly ahead of him. The bouncer that opened the door to him went to the next door and pounded on it several times. Thames heard a lock unlatching and then it opened wide. All three men turned and watched Thames as he approached carefully. He stepped through the threshold and into a massive dimly lit, lavish black room. There were sleek tables everywhere, all filled with gentlemen conversing, drinking, or otherwise sitting back, entertained by the stage where a woman danced erotically to a slow, sexy song.

  Topless ladies past him, delivering drinks to the patrons. Thames stood by the bar area, looking at every woman, searching for Charlotte in their faces. He felt like there was hardly any oxygen in the room. He took measured breaths, scanning the area, searching and searching, even staring for a moment at the dancer, making sure it wasn’t her.

  His mind was dead quiet.

  He didn’t ask himself why she was in a place like this.

  Frankly, he didn’t care in that moment. He just wanted to fucking see her.

  God, he just wanted to see his dove.

  “Looking for someone, honey?” asked a voice.

  He turned to a petite woman with a full tray balanced on one hand. Not topless, she had an elegant red corset on that helped accentuate her cleavage. Like the other girls, her bottom half was dressed in a black short skirt. She smiled up at him with a curious expression.

  He nodded slowly. “Charlotte Miles.”

  He didn’t care if they had to get her to him. He wasn’t trying to surprise her or anything. He was just hoping to find her in her natural routine.

  The girl knew the name. The look of recognition shone on her face as she nodded slowly, keeping that smile intact. She looked past him and to a dark corridor on the other side of the grand room.

  “Charlotte’s in one of the backrooms occupied at the moment,” she explained. “When she’s done, I can let her know you’re here waiting.”

  He felt a fissure in his apathy. Heat spread throughout his body, melting the ice in his veins as he comprehended Charlotte in a backroom with a stranger. He had to make sure, though.

  “What’s done back there?” he asked, hiding any emotion from his tone.

  The girl’s smile slipped just a little. She looked him over now, perplexed. “What do you think is done back there, big guy?”

  He fought the twitch in his lips. He could almost feel his teeth grind together, but still he kept his feelings at bay. His eyes flashed to the corridor he could hardly see from where he stood. Tinkering in the recesses of his mind was an animalistic urge to tear through the bar and break the doors down to find her.

  What do you think is done back there? Asked in such a blasé way, almost to laugh at the absurdity in his question. This little sweetheart didn’t know it, but she had nailed him where it hurt. The smile in her eyes told him she had little clue of it, too.

  Only Charlotte with another man could undo years of behavioural change, and a curious girl like this one before him was like a hammer on its head. He was going to shake again, and this time it would be noticeable to anyone looking at him.

  Charlotte in the backroom.

  Charlotte in the backroom.

  He felt the earthquake begin at the centre of his being. That same visceral need to possess her emerged, and now he was close to erupting.

  No, but he wouldn’t allow it!

  He regained his composure quickly – though it wrecked him inside to do so – and stared back at the girl with a calm smile.

  “How do I get a meeting with her?” he asked now.

  The girl looked him over, cocking her head to the side. “Charlotte has an exclusive clientele.”

  “I’m sure when she sees me, she’ll find I’ll be on it.”

  Her smile brightened. “Is that so?”

  “It is.”

  “Well, give me a few minutes and I’ll find you a room then.”

  His lips fell into a line as she left him to serve a table nearby. He watched her bend over to one of the men, whispering something seductive in his ear while he slowly ran his hand up her leg, stopping just below her ass. The men here had boundaries. More so than that, they actually behaved.

  Thames knew straightaway where he was.

  This was a gentleman’s club. Exclusive, expensive, and very difficult to find. And he had somehow been allowed to just blaz
e in. He looked around the club, catching sight of more cameras in odd little locations. High end surveillance from within the club, a sign that nothing illegal was to be conducted. Some rich bastard was kicking back on this goldmine, and he had employed Charlotte to take part in its sordid activities.

  Slowly, slowly, it was sinking in. Charlotte alone with a man. Alone in a backroom. Alone doing who knows what for god knows how long.

  Thames stuck out like a sore thumb, yet no one stopped to ask him who he was. No one cared. He edged to where the bar was and took a seat on a stool. His eyes were fixed on the damn corridor, the urge to go to it pulsing through him worse by the second.

  Was this his doing?

  Had she turned to this out of desperation?

  But how could that be? He left behind an obscene amount of currency in the basement.

  What in the fuck was going on exactly?

  Laughter came from his right. A group of men passed him from his left. He vaguely heard the bartender ask him if he wanted a drink. The music that was low and sexy suddenly pounded into his skull and the dancer morphed into a wavy blur. He shut his eyes, breathing through yet another sensory overload of images and sounds.

  “I win when he’s down?”

  “You win when he’s dead.”

  He felt a tap on his shoulder. He opened his eyes to find the little thing standing in front of him. “You still want that room, big boy?”

  The Hole

  “Now, you listen to me,” Conor said to Max as Dom and Jem fell into a conversation before the game started. “You don’t need to prove yourself, alright?”

  Max looked past Conor and at the boys. “They think I’m a wussy.”

  “Who cares what they think?”

  “I just want them to like me.”

  “Why does it even matter?” Conor shrugged like it was no big deal if they liked Max or not. “Between you and me, they have things they’re scared of, too.”

  Max returned his gaze to Conor, and the expression on his face was one that made Conor’s belly tighten and his heart skip a beat.

  “You don’t know what it’s like,” Max whispered, eyes wide. “When you have no one. When everyone laughs at you. When the teachers don’t even want anything to do with you. It hurts, and I’m lonely, and I get scared, and maybe I’m a wuss and everyone’s right. I don’t even know why you let me hang around. I keep waiting for you to tell me it was all a lie, and this is some big joke you’re all playing on me.”

  Conor was taken aback. He frowned at Max because that was far from the truth. “Have I ever laughed at you, Max?”

  Max slowly shook his head, looking down at his sad looking shoes. “No…”

  “I’m not tricking you.”

  “But Jem’s always saying things, like you’ll lose interest…”

  “Jem’s being a bully. He’s probably just upset I talk you up all the time.”

  Max’s eyes shot back up to Conor in surprise. “You do?”

  Conor gave him a lopsided smile. “I sure do. I think Jem’s a little jealous.”

  “He is?”

  “Jealous Jem, doesn’t that have a ring to it?”

  Max’s lips flickered up. “Yeah…”

  “Ignore him. He’ll probably stop pestering you when he realizes it’s not getting to you. He just wants a reaction, Max. Stop giving him one.”

  He looked thoughtful. “I let him get to me.”

  “That’s right, and Jealous Jem sees that.”

  Max cracked a smile at the name.

  “We playing yet?” Dominic called out, interrupting them.

  Conor raised a hand, his eyes still fixed on Max. “We’ll talk about this later, Max, after the game is done, okay?”

  Max nodded, still looking a bit off despite the faint smile. “Okay.”

  “Like I said before, you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, alright? Hide behind the car if you have to. I’ll look there last so you can really hide yourself in there.”

  Taking a deep breath, Max nodded again. “I’ll think of a better spot.”

  Conor doubted that.

  With a playful push, he walked past Max and to a stump on the ground. Sitting down, he covered his eyes, and shouted, “Alright, get ready. I’m going to count to a hundred, and then I’m going to find your ugly faces! Ready? ONE, TWO, THREE…”

  He heard a series of excited footsteps running in all directions, growing fainter and fainter.

  Chapter Four

  Charlotte

  “Tell me, are you Locke’s girl? Is that why I never see you in a tiny little corset, fluttering about?”

  Despite the ice in my blood, my smile was painfully bright as I chimed, “Never took you to be so nosy, Mr Crane.”

  Crane’s eyes lapped over me from across the table. “Only curious.”

  “Ah, well, as Locke would say, curiosity is a dangerous thing.”

  “So, you do belong to him then.”

  “If you check the calendar, you’ll notice we’ve been in the twenty first century for kind of a while now.”

  He gave me a blank look. He wasn’t getting it.

  My smile faltered. “So…I don’t belong to anyone, Mr Crane.”

  His expression relaxed. “What’s your price then, Miss Miles? What number would get you belonging to someone like me?”

  I lifted a finger. I needed a minute to stop myself from gagging. The guy was old. Like, as in, his skin was pale and thin, and his face looked saggy and sunken in. He was halfway to the grave, and I was tempted to tell him to hurry up and repent for all his fucked-up sins.

  Instead, I trained my gaze on the paperwork before me and tapped my pen on the table.

  “Is there anything else you’d like me to do?” I asked, redirecting the conversation before it got out of hand. When I saw his eyes sparkle, I quickly added, “Regarding your recent business negotiations with Mr Locke.”

  The blatant rejection made him narrow his cloudy-looking eyes at me. “Well, did you take care of my earnings?”

  I ignored his hard tone. “I did.”

  “Then I guess I don’t need you anymore, do I?”

  “You do not.”

  Now he kicked back in his chair and looked around the clinical room with an air of smugness. “I wasn’t serious, just so you know. Prude little bitches like you do nothing for me.”

  For some bizarre reason it was always an adjustment hearing the elderly, who looked adorably old and fragile, swear at you like you were the filth beneath their shoe. I’d have thought this old man was adorable and delicate with his suit all done up and his white hair in place, and don’t get me started on those pearly white dentures that made him look extra cute when he smiled with those wrinkles crinkling the corners of his eyes.

  Goddammit.

  I was such a sucker.

  I took a moment to absorb his words, and he seemed chuffed to have knocked me speechless, this old, fragile, adorable man with his suit all done up and hair in place.

  “I’d watch who you’re calling a bitch, Mr Crane.” I said sweetly as I collected the paperwork. “I have the tendency to often though infrequently, intentionally though accidentally, inform the local authorities of dirty old men with questionable off-shore accounts.”

  “Your threats are hollow.”

  “Do you want to take that risk?”

  He ignored my question and scowled at me. “You’re just a woman.”

  “Okay.”

  “You belong in the kitchen.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You’re only lucky that in today’s world gender equality is even a thing.”

  Goodness. What a guy.

  “You know, you should be nicer to people, Mr Crane. You sound like a bitter old asshole.”

  He looked unbothered, giving me a filthy once-over. “Look at the world I have to share it with.”

  “Not even,” I stated dryly. “You’ve got a foot in the grave as it is.”

  He stared evenly a
t me. “I look forward to dying.”

  My eyes lit up. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, I’m tired of being surrounded by women who think they’ve got an equal place as me –”

  “Jeez –”

  “You’re just good for making babies –”

  “You are such an asshole –”

  “And making sure your house is in order –”

  “Misogynist to the extreme, but you hid it so well in the start –”

  “And hoping your man is even still interested in you when he gets home because he can have the pick of the litter –”

  “I really hope you die soon, Mr Crane, and nobody shows up at your funeral –”

  “You’re ugly by my standards. There are better women, easier to find, who’d beg for my attention. Oh, they would beg!”

  “Rejection doesn’t suit you –”

  “I wasn’t even seriously considering you, it was pity.”

  We talked over one another; he hurled insults, and I wished him a good death, and then I gave up. I let him continue for a while longer and promised myself never to judge a book by its cover. You’d think I’d learn after meeting with countless strange clients. Locke really needed to up his standards.

  I collected the paperwork and carefully placed it in my messenger bag. “Good to know, Mr Crane,” I said with another bright smile because fuck his shit. “I’ll see you again this time next month?”

  “Maybe,” he retorted, standing up and taking an absurdly long time to straighten his suit jacket. “But maybe not, Miss Miles.”

  I looked up at him with a dry look. “So, you won’t continue business with Locke going forward?”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “You will, then?”

  “That’s not what I said, either.”