Ben’s lids flickered. “Probation officer. I wasn’t aware Robert had a criminal record. If he’s violating the conditions of his parole—”
“I said sort of. I help keep him in line, let him know when he’s close to slipping. And I’m there to jerk him back in line if he thinks he might slip, or if I see it happening.” Something dark moved through Toronto’s eyes as he watched Ben. “You know what happens when somebody with the wrong kind of hungers slips, don’t you, Benito?”
At that, the man went white.
“Get out,” he snarled, shoving upward. But the cool, collected man was gone.
In his place stood a man who was scared and pissed. And there was hell in his eyes. Glaring at Toronto, he said again, “Get out now.”
“I can’t.” He continued to watch Ben, his eyes unreadable. “They slip sometimes. Even those who try not to, don’t they?”
Ben swallowed.
Sylvia felt sick to her stomach. She could hear the poor guy’s heartbeat, all but taste his terror… and his humiliation. “Tor…”
He ignored her.
“Sometimes, they don’t care if they slip, though.”
“I don’t let those in my house,” Ben said, his voice raspy and low. He leaned forward, desperation and defiance in his eyes. “I made this place to help, you stupid son of a bitch, don’t you get it?”
“I think I do.” Toronto rose from the chair, slid his hands into his pockets, and the menace in the air faded.
Sylvia didn’t even know how he did that— sucked all of that back inside him. It shouldn’t be possible, but he did it and he managed to stand there like some easygoing dude who didn’t have the ability to turn deadly in a microsecond.
“I think I get it better than you realize. And I just realized something… you hate them.” Toronto glanced around that sleek, sexy office and then looked back at the man with pity in his eyes. “You hate this place, you hate this job, you hate what you do and you hate those ‘customers’ out there more than I do. You just hide it.”
Ben stilled. Then, he closed his eyes and turned away. “Who in the fuck are you? What in the hell do you want?”
“I’m looking for somebody.” Toronto glanced at Sylvia.
She reached into her pocket and drew out Pulaski’s picture, rising from her chair. Like she was approaching a wounded animal, she eased up to the desk. When Ben tensed, she simply waited until he turned to face her. “This man. Do you know him?”
Ben’s face darkened. “Alan Pulaski. I don’t know him, never have. But his kind wouldn’t have been welcome here.” He took a deep breath and then looked up, studied Sylvia for a long moment before shifting his gaze to Toronto. “There are varying degrees of men who fantasize about children. There are those who will offend, those who will hurt. And then there are those who have the fantasies… but they control the urge, never cross the line. I opened this place to give them a safe place to indulge in those fantasies.”
“What if indulging them here tempted them to go over the line?”
A dark smile slanted the mortal’s face. “I’m good at recognizing that, too.”
Violence had a scent. She wondered what had inspired the rage she sensed within him. But they’d intruded on enough of his secrets. Let him keep this one. “So you’ve never had him in here.”
“He wouldn’t have been welcome. I would have made sure he realized it, too, should he ever try to come in.” He gave them a cold smile and Sylvia decided that the mortal had a pretty decent freaky thing of his own— if she’d been human, that look in his eyes might have scared her. Just what do you do, she wondered, about those who cross the line?
Ben reached up and straightened his tie, smoothed the lapels of his already impeccable suit. “Was that all?”
“No.” Toronto took the picture and handed it back to Sylvia and as easy as that, nudged her back into the passenger seat. “There is a… group of people who are getting a little heavy into their fantasy shit. I don’t think it’s fantasy anymore. Getting into hurting their partners and most of the partners are kids. I don’t know if the kids are volunteering in exchange for money, if they are being forced into it or what. The only name I have is Kit, and it was happening at a house in Cordova. It’s been shut down now, or maybe moved. Do you know anything about it?”
Ben looked away. “I can’t say if I’ve heard the name Kit or not— you hear a lot of names in this business and it’s best if you just forget them. But I did have somebody ask me if any of my boys would be interested in making extra money— they said ‘anything goes’ and I won’t let my boys do that. If they go into it on their free time, I can’t stop them, but I won’t tell them, I won’t mention it to them and I won’t let them be approached on my property.” He shrugged restlessly and moved over to the bar. “I hope you don’t mind— actually, I don’t care if you mind or not. I’m having a drink. I’m not offering you one.” He splashed something into a glass— judging by the smell, it was whiskey, potent and expensive.
As he turned, he lifted it to his lips and sipped. “I can’t say if any of them were approached off property. But if they went, it must not have been too bad. I would have heard.”
“Are you sure?”
He glanced at Sylvia and then nodded. “Yes. The men here… they trust me. I make sure of it. And none of them have been hurt. That’s another thing I watch for. I take care of them. It’s my job.”
Those last words were spoken with deep, intense passion. Sylvia felt an unexpected lurch in her heart. This man had been through hell. She had a bad suspicion about just what had happened, but it was his private hell. She understood all about private hells, too.
“Is that all?” he asked, his voice dismissive.
“Yes.” Toronto reached into his pocket.
“If you pull money out of that pocket, I’m going to cut your hand off,” Ben said, his voice neutral. Cool.
Sylvia smiled. She hadn’t expected to like anybody she met in this place. But she decided she might like Ben. He had balls.
Toronto laughed. “Okay. I won’t pull out money. How about a card, though? If you see or hear anything about more of these parties, I’d appreciate if you’d let me know.”
Ben watched with impassive eyes as Toronto approached the desk and laid the card down.
Hunters. Carrying business cards. Handing them out to unsuspecting mortals. Shit, the world was a weird place, Sylvia mused.
“Why should I?” Ben asked after staring at the card for a long, silent moment.
“Because I think you have a good idea what happens when ‘anything goes,’” Toronto said, his voice gruff. Too gruff.
Sylvia tensed and chanced a look into his eyes. But they were perfectly normal. A little too intense and that in and of itself was spooky, but they weren’t all glow-y and that was good.
“Once I find out who is responsible for these… parties,” Toronto continued. “I’m going to stop them. And I’m going to hurt the people responsible.”
Ben picked up the card, studied it. Then he tucked it inside his pocket and nodded. “I’ll think about it. If I hear anything.”
CHAPTER 15
“H
OW did you get all that dirt about him?” Sylvia asked once they’d hit Beale Street. It was quieter now, and she knew what that meant. She didn’t have much time.
“I’ve had it for quite a while.” He slid her a look and shook his head. “And no, I’m not telling you. He had a hellish time when he was a kid. Leave him alone.”
She made a face at him. “I wasn’t going to go give him the third degree or anything.” Sympathy twisted in her heart, but she shoved it aside. No time for it now, no room for it. “You can tell he’s got hell trapped inside him. If it was that bad, maybe somebody needs to pay.”
“The guy did pay. Little Benito snapped when he was fifteen and killed him. It was his mom’s little brother. Nobody knew. But Mom and Dad stood by him, even after the rest of his family tried to blame the kid.”
“Everybody tries to blame the victim,” Sylvia whispered.
“Sometimes even the victim.” Toronto stared off into the night. “I’ve known about it since he started running the place. He’s not doing anything illegal— the men who strip there are of age. They just don’t look it. If it makes it easier for some to control whatever fucked-up fantasies they have? Fine. And it makes it easier for me to keep an eye on a problem of mine.”
“A problem?”
“Yeah.” He sighed grimly. “The were I was talking to the other night— weak-ass son of a bitch. The Change does bad things to people. Can warp the hell out of them. He’d always liked them young— the pretty-boy college type was his favorite. But the Change made it worse, twisted him.”
“The Change usually doesn’t make them want things they didn’t already want.” She stared off into the night.
“It can warp the mind something awful, though. Especially if it’s somebody who never should have been turned to begin with— Bobby shouldn’t have been. But feral wolves don’t care. They just attack. That’s a different problem, for a different night. We need to talk to some of Ben’s dancers. See if any of them were approached. By who. Where. See if they have names.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ve got a list of them actually. Although it will be easier to hit them tonight. You can do the whammy on them. I’ll just make them piss their pants. Both can make them talk, but I’d prefer the subtle approach.”
Sylvia glanced at the sky. “No time tonight. I need to get back to my place.”
He watched her for a second and then said, “And that’s… close?”
Sylvia just stared at him. He smiled. “I didn’t think so. I’ve got a better idea. I know a place— we use it sometimes when we have… guests.”
“I don’t want sanctuary with the fucking Master,” she said, curling her lip at him. She needed to be away from him. Very desperately. “I have a place.”
“I’m sure you do. But if it’s outside the city… and I bet it is… then you’re wasting time traveling that we could be using to investigate.” He shrugged and said, “And it’s not sanctuary at the Enclave. This is neutral ground— Rafe doesn’t own it, but it’s vamp-outfitted. You can sleep safe from the sun, and it’s only three miles from here. So as soon as you’re able to be out tomorrow night, we can hit the streets.”
Shit. Shifting her eyes away from him to the dark streets, she scowled and resisted, barely, the urge to kick at the ground. He wasn’t lying— she’d know if he was. And shit, she’d already figured there was a vamp-safe haven somewhere around here. Most decent-sized towns had them, and if there was an established Hunter presence, it was pretty much a given.
It made sense— of course, that was part of the problem. He was making sense, he was easy, or easy enough, to work with. And damn it, they were spinning their wheels.
“Fine,” she muttered. “But it’s just for tonight.”
He smiled at her. The light glinted off his eyes, making them impossible to read. But still, it was enough to send a shiver down her spine.
“S
HIT. How many dancers does he have?”
Sylvia was tired. Vamps weren’t prone to headaches but she felt like her head was about to split into a hundred pieces.
A hand came up, brushed against the nape of her neck. “He rotates between twenty or so. Most of them are going to school and shit and he watches their hours. We’ve only got one more.”
“Twenty?” She frowned at him. “I’ve only seen thirteen.” Thirteen— had to pry open thirteen minds, hold them steady and then release them. No wonder her head was killing her. This was more mind-twisting shit than she was used to.
“I talked to some earlier while you slept.” He shrugged as they jogged down the steps and headed north.
“You talked to some earlier.” Narrowing her eyes, she caught his arm and glared at him. “I thought we were working this together.”
“We are.” Toronto crossed his arms over his chest, his blue eyes glinting with something that just might have been the edge of temper.
She stared right back. Come on, wolf.
“You had to sleep. I rested for two hours— that’s all I needed. Did you want me to twiddle my thumbs and pretend we’re not trying to find a killer?”
“Smart-ass.” She started to walk once more, long angry strides. What if he’d found him? Would he have…
“I would have tied his sick ass up and delivered him to you,” Toronto said quietly. “I made you a promise. I don’t plan on breaking it if I can help it.”
“Wow.” She rolled her eyes and muttered, “That is reassuring.”
“You want guarantees, and I can’t promise them. For all we know, the bastard is dead in a ditch somewhere— and if he is, I hope something ripped his dick off and choked him with it first. But if we find him alive, I plan on keeping my end of the deal.”
Stopping on the sidewalk to look at him, she studied his face. That pretty, pretty face with those impossibly blue eyes. “Okay, then. Let’s finish this up.”
“Y
OU.” The boy was the last one on Toronto’s list, and the minute Toronto had appeared on his step, he looked nervous. “I’ve seen you.”
Toronto lifted a brow. “Yeah? I hear that. Maybe I got a familiar-looking face.”
Sylvia bit back a snort at that. He had the most unfamiliar face she’d ever seen. When the dancer looked at her, she smiled.
He didn’t bother smiling in return, just shifted his gaze back to Toronto. “No. You’ve been at the club. I’ve seen you talking to one of the guys there. He’s scared of you.”
This isn’t going well. Sylvia had no doubt Toronto was picking up on the kid’s fear the same as she was— if he had too much fear, she’d never be able to grab his mind without damaging him. Fear left marks. Pushing in front of the were, she caught the kid’s eyes— shit. He wasn’t a kid, not really. But she had a hard time looking at him and thinking adult.
Especially as that fear grew larger, and larger…
“Hey, we’re not here to cause you any problems. We just need to find somebody,” she said. When he looked back at her, she reached out, caught his mind, but gently. Calm down… we’re not going to hurt you. Calm down…
Just a little of the fear receded. Somebody had done a number on him.
Reaching inside her pocket, she pulled out the picture of Pulaski. “We need to find this guy. Do you know him?”
At the very first look, his face went white. And he started to scream.
“S
HIT.”
“Yeah.” They stood outside, watching as an ambulance drove away.
The man had shattered. One look at Pulaski’s picture and he had broken. Now he was being taken away, his mother in the ambulance with him as he lay there, all but catatonic.
“Any idea what was done to him?” Toronto asked quietly.
“No. I can’t pick up on thoughts well. All I could tell was that he was afraid, and he has been for a while. Somebody hurt him.” She tugged the picture out of her pocket, staring at it with distaste. One more sin to lay at this bastard’s feet. “I don’t know if it was him or not.”
“He’s too old for Pulaski. I’ve got him at twenty-two.”
Sylvia sighed. “He barely looks old enough to shave.” Her heart hurt for him and she wanted to kick herself… she’d done that. One look at this picture and she’d reduced that kid to a screaming, terrified mess.
“You didn’t do it.”
Through her lashes, she stared at Toronto. “Didn’t I?”
“No. You didn’t.” He took the picture from her, tucked it back into her pocket. Curling his fingers in the lapels of her jacket, he tugged her closer.
She thought about pulling back, but instead, she let him, until they were standing just a breath away. “You didn’t,” he said again. “Maybe it brought the memories to the fore, but they were already there and it looks like they were choking him.”
“If he wanted to hi
de from it, he had that right.” Her own memories sought to choke her often enough, rising out of the dark at the worst moments. She could understand the need to hide away from them.
“As broken as he is, if he doesn’t deal with them, he’ll do something desperate… you can see it in his eyes, all but smell it on him.”
Troubled, she stared down the street. They were lost in the shadows, hiding away while they watched over the boy they’d just terrified. It bothered her, she realized. A hell of a lot more than she wanted to admit.
“We can try to rationalize it all we want,” she finally said, shaking her head. “But we hurt him. Maybe the memories were already there, but we were the ones who cut him open and forced them out.”
Pulling away, she started down the street. “And it was all for nothing, too. Not that it would be any easier if we’d found out anything, but if we’d learned something…” Shit. She didn’t know if it would have helped or not. The one thing she did know— those screams would haunt her. For a long, long while.
A
S she mounted her bike, Toronto caught up with her. He looked as grim-eyed as she felt. “We lost the night,” he said.
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Shit, her head was killing her. A wave of weakness swamped her as she swung her leg over the bike, but she ignored it. Nothing that wouldn’t ease after a decent feeding; there was bagged blood at the safe house. Yum.
A hand came around her arm, steadying her. “You’re beat. You pushed yourself too hard with the mind thing, didn’t you?”
“No.” Yes. Jerking her head toward the bike, she said, “Get on. We need to move. I want to feed before I crash for the day.”
“I think you should crash with me.”
“No.” She clenched her jaw, ignoring the feel of him along her back. “I don’t think I should. The vamp safe house worked fine.” It had been fine— technically. A room the size of a small bathroom, a small cot. It had been like a damn cell, but it did the job.
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