Trixsters Anonymous

by Ahren Sanders

“It would seem so. You look murderous.”

  “I am. Emi’s here with her best friend. They just entered a viewing room.”

  He jerks, looking at me with shock. “I thought you weren’t into this.”

  “I’m not! We’re not!” I yell a little too loudly, then drop my head to my chest, focusing on the floor below. “Something’s not right. Emi would never be in a place like this.”

  “Listen, Scott, we don’t know each other very well, but—”

  “Whatever you’re about to say, I suggest you swallow the words. I need you to cover me for a few minutes.”

  “Are you about to blow this?”

  I snap my head to him with such ferocity my neck cracks. He throws up a hand and steps back. “Man, I’m only asking.”

  “I’ll handle this.”

  “Can you promise me you’ll keep your head straight?”

  “I can promise you I won’t fuck this up. But I can also promise you Emi’s ass is going to be red before the night’s over.”

  A slow smile spreads across his lips as he nods. “Captain Corny warned me you were a hothead, but even more, he told me to watch out when it came to her. He said, at some point, fireworks were going to explode.”

  “Jesus Christ, that man’s a gossip.” I take off, not caring what else he has to say.

  I get to the hallway, slink back in a corner, and take out my phone. I think back to the video Kelly showed me a few weeks ago of the coverage of the bar. I wasn’t crazy; that was her.

  What the hell is she up to?

  I Google the names Carrie + Miranda and hundreds of results for Sex and the City pop up. I may not have watched the show, but my mom loved it.

  “What’s happening in there?” I ask the employee manning the door.

  “It’s an exhibition.”

  I nod, pushing off the wall and going into the room. The entire viewing area is darkened, but I spot Emi and Maren in the middle row easily.

  The bland room from earlier has come alive as two sets of men and women are into the act. One woman is naked and cuffed to a wall, her whole body spread out, while a man clamps a chain to each of her nipples until she whimpers. Slowly, he runs a crop along her body, teasing her until she begs, then spanks her on one nipple until she whines. He then positions the crop between her legs and starts to twist it. Each time she moans in ecstasy, he yanks on the chain until she yelps.

  Emi’s hand crosses her chest as she grimaces then adjusts the glasses.

  The other man in the exhibition talks lowly into his woman’s ear and slides her dress off, leaving her naked except for her heels. She willingly bends across the bed with her ass in the air. He runs his hands along her back, across her shoulders, and down her arms, then locks her wrists in the restraints on the bed posts. He then trails his hands back over her body until he reaches her ass, caressing each cheek. There’s an object on the bedside table, which he takes and slides slowly along her crack and into her ass. She whimpers, bucking into his hand as he then slips his fingers inside, playing with her.

  I watch as one man uses light pain and the other uses gentleness to bring each woman to climax.

  No words are spoken as the men switch places, grabbing more items out of the chest in the corner.

  At the sight of the two men changing partners, Emi and Maren both readjust their glasses, drawing my attention to the frames.

  Then I see it. Standard issued camera glasses. It all starts to click into place: the disguises, the anonymous references, the look on Emi’s face this morning.

  Fuck me, she and Maren are the anonymous source.

  I let the show in front of us go on for a few more minutes, knowing I’m skating a line with Kelly, then exit quietly. When I pass the bar, I jot down a note, hand it to Sam, and head back upstairs.

  Kelly is in the same position I left him and gives me a shit eating grin. “You handle it?”

  I replace my ear piece, knowing the others can hear us, so I give a curt nod and respond vaguely. “Not yet, but I will.”

  “Don’t know what you two are referring to, but we’ve got activity. It’s them. They just started talking about transport. Looks like the car theft ring is dead. I’ve got recognition on four of the men so far,” Oliver tells us.

  “Ross got make, models, and plates on the vehicles they arrived in,” Collins adds.

  “We’ve got everything we came to get.

  “Oh, shit,” Oliver yells. “We’ve lost sound. Can one of you get a look and see where the waitress went?”

  Kelly turns and casually leans his back to the railing, sipping his drink. “Waitress is there. But she’s wiping at her dress, looks like there was a spill.”

  “Without sound, we don’t have much.”

  “We have a hell of a lot more than we started with. Scott and I will take a few more pictures then we’re out of here,” Kelly decides, eyeing me for approval.

  I nod and go back to our table, ordering another drink from a very sullen waitress. Looks like Kelly turned her down, too. No doubt, she’s disappointed in her VIP guests tonight.

  I do what I need to do, sending shot after shot to Oliver until the party of five starts to break up. The bar below is still packed, but I catch Sam looking at me. He gives a short head jerk in confirmation.

  Kelly takes out a few hundred dollars and slips them into our waitress’s hand. “We’re going down below. You’re done with us for the night.”

  Her eyes light up, earlier mood vanishing as she thanks us and leaves.

  “You ready to get out of here?”

  “Yeah, but we have a quick stop to make on the way out. Ask Ross to pick us up at the back entrance,” I inform him on our way downstairs.

  “Where are we going?”

  Like it or not, I realize my hands are tied when it comes to getting Emi and Maren out of here. Kelly’s going to be involved. “We’re going to our private room.”

  He slices his eyes to me, catching on. “Emi?”

  “I’ll try to save the fireworks for later, but get ready.”

  Chapter 20

  Emi

  “What’s the worst that can happen? Are we going to jail?” I whisper to Maren, scared someone is listening.

  “I don’t know,” Maren answers me just as lowly.

  “We really should have thought this through better.”

  “How were we supposed to know it was a sex club? Stick to our story. Our credentials are flawless. There’s no way anyone here knows who we are or why we’re here.” She starts to pace in a circle.

  I check my watch and try to stop my knees from shaking. It’s been forty-five minutes since we were escorted to this room and locked in. Maren and I kept quiet when the bartender asked us to follow him. We recognized him, but he gave no indication of recognizing us. The only thing he said before leaving was, “Mr. Miles will be here shortly.”

  Neither Maren nor I know a Mr. Miles.

  This was supposed to be easy. Bailey sent us a message that Justin was going out tonight with the guys. Maren and I knew there was a good chance that he was lying. With the information we gathered on Wednesday night, she was able to somehow hack into the ‘Suite’ system and get us on the invitation list.

  Well, technically, she got Carrie and Miranda on the list, and made us corresponding IDs to match. We knew our instincts were right when Justin’s GPS tracker showed him driving into the parking lot. He came in alone and sat at the bar, having a few drinks before a woman approached him. He greeted her as if they knew each other and then followed her to the other side of the dance floor.

  That’s when the two men closed in on Maren and me, offering to buy us a drink and take us to the viewing. I thought viewing meant some sort of strip show. Maybe Justin was actually meeting his friends for a few lap dances.

  What a dumbass. Maren and I realized our mistake when we walked into the room. Justin and the woman from the bar were just getting started, and we had no choice but to watch the two men demonstrate what they referred t
o as an exhibition in women’s pleasure.

  Justin didn’t have sex with his partner, but I can’t imagine Bailey is aware of his secret.

  My head jerks at the sound of the door unlocking. Maren’s at my side gripping my elbow in less than a second.

  All the air leaves my lungs when Walker steps into the room, followed by another man.

  His face is stone cold, his jaw ticking, and a fire scorches in his eyes. He stays planted across the room, pinning me with his glare.

  “Holy fucking shit,” Maren mumbles, squeezing harder.

  My vision grows blurry, my heart thundering in my chest so loud, I’m sure he can hear it. Then my stomach does a dive, and I can’t hold back the shockwave that runs through me.

  The way he’s staring tells me he knows exactly who I am. He’s not fooled by my disguise.

  What’s he doing here?

  “Don’t,” he barks, sending a chill up my spine.

  “I didn’t—”

  “The question is written all over your face.”

  I take a deep breath and try to step forward, but my legs won’t budge. “I can expl—”

  “Oh, you’re going to explain, but first, you’re both coming with us. We’re leaving.” He comes to my side, ungluing me from Maren’s grip and circling his arm around my waist.

  The other man does the same with Maren, and they lead us out of the room, down the hall, and out a back entrance. There’s a limo waiting, and the guy holding the door looks confused as Walker gently guides me inside. I try to scramble to the back of the seats, but he drags me into his lap.

  “Don’t move.”

  Maren gets in with wide eyes, moving far away, and the other man joins her. Finally, my brain starts working, comprehending who he is and what is happening.

  “Agent Kelly?” I presume, and a wide smile spreads across his face.

  “Bryant Kelly,” he confirms, winking at me.

  “You got something in your eye, Kelly?” Walker growls.

  “Nope.” He chuckles, enjoying Walker’s mood.

  The door closes, and the driver climbs into the driver’s seat. For the first time, I notice another guy in the front as well.

  “Someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on?” the driver spews.

  “Where’s your car?” Walker ignores the question and eyes me.

  “Maren drove.”

  “Here’s what’s going to happen. I need Collins to follow us in Maren’s car back to my place. Maren, give him your keys.”

  She grabs them out of her purse and hands them to Bryant, who tosses them up front. Maren helps him find her car, and Collins turns to face us.

  “Would either of you ladies like to ride with me?” He switches his eyes between us.

  “Neither of you fucking move,” Walker commands, which gets a loud snicker from Collins before he closes the door.

  “I’m Ross, by the way,” the driver yells. “I assume you’re Emi?”

  I nod.

  “Not my fucking Emi.” Walker twists me to face him, carefully taking my glasses and setting them aside. Then he gently removes my wig, cap, and barrette holding my hair up. His hands thread though my hair a few times before gripping the back of my head and tugging me into him.

  “That’s better.” He slides his lips over mine.

  My sense of relief is short lived when he pulls back and pins his glare to Maren. “Glasses and purse.” He holds out his hand, and she reluctantly hands them over.

  “How’d you know it was me?” I ask cautiously.

  “Baby, I’d know your ass anywhere. But your ass, your legs, this dress… there was no denying. Spotted you at the bar before you went into that damn room.”

  “It’s not what you think. I m-m-mean, we’re not members of the club,” I stammer, pleading with him to believe me.

  “I know.”

  Something he said clicks in my head. “Wait, you said you spotted me at the bar. You were already there?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought you had to work tonight! What were you doing there?”

  “Working.”

  “Working at a sex club!?!”

  “Yes,” he repeats.

  “Oh my God, was this illegal? Were there drugs in there?”

  “It’s not illegal, and as far as I know, there weren’t drugs.”

  “Well then, why were you there?” I narrow my eyes in frustration.

  Bryant starts to laugh, sitting back and spreading his arms across the back of the seats.

  “Aren’t they cute?” Maren coos.

  Walker’s chest tenses, clearly not as pleased as his friend.

  “You should have seen him when she hurt her crotch. He was so sweet.”

  “I didn’t hurt my crotch! It was my groin,” I argue, heat creeping up my face.

  “Same difference.” She shrugs, uncaring.

  “It’s not, my crotch—”

  “Stop talking about your crotch!” Walker roars, sending Maren into a fit of giggles.

  “Bryant, Walker gets a little testy when it comes to Emi. On their very first date, he scared the waiter away and then pulled a gun on me when I interrupted them making out.” Maren continues to talk, not swayed by the tension filling the air between us.

  “The gig’s up, Maren. I may not be able to spank your ass, but you’ve got some explaining to do, too.”

  “Me? I didn’t do—” she starts, but I interrupt her.

  “You’re not getting anywhere near my ass for a long time if you don’t st—”

  “Don’t finish that statement. Choose your words carefully, Emerson, or should I say Carrie and Miranda?” he says low enough for only me to hear.

  His knowledge of our names causes my stomach to plummet again. I chew on my bottom lip, looking at Maren for help. She’s useless.

  “I see you’re finally getting the picture.”

  He’s right; I see the picture loud and clear.

  We’re busted.

  I stare at the coffee table, which is now littered with the contents of our purses and the items Walker found in Maren’s car. All of it Trixsters gear. He sets his laptop up, facing us, and observes my reaction.

  I know what he’s going to show us before he even hits play, but I still cringe when the video comes to life. Apparently, Maren doesn’t feel the same because she starts giggling.

  “What is wrong with you tonight?” I jab her with my elbow. “You’ve been giggling like a loon. Don’t you understand the gravity of this situation?”

  “There is no gravity. And the reason I’m laughing is because I’m relieved.”

  “Relieved? You realize we’ve been caught, right?”

  “Yes, by Walker, which is perfect.”

  Walker stops the video and stands tall, his hands on his hips, staring at us with displeasure. “How long?”

  “How long what?”

  “Phones, computers, tracking devices, recording devices, fake IDs… All of this,” he sweeps his hands to the table, “tells me you’ve been at this for a while. How long?”

  “We started after the Carlton situation,” Maren answers for me.

  “The Carlton situation? The same one where information on his cheating fell into your lap?”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes slice to me. “So, the information wasn’t truly anonymous. It came from you? You two worked in cahoots?”

  There’s no need to deny it, so I nod.

  “Start from the beginning. I want to hear it all.”

  Maren and I exchange a look, and it’s clear on her face, she expects me to talk.

  “Eyes to me, Emi.”

  “We’re an anonymous duo, hired by people who suspect their significant others are cheating.”

  “You’re moonlighting as vagina vigilantes?” he spews in disgust.

  “We don’t discriminate. Men hire us, too,” Maren adds a little too happily. “Our business plan actually outlines all—”

  “Business plan?”

&nbs
p; “Of course, we may be amateurs, but we’re not dumb.”

  “Do either of you have a private investigator’s license I don’t know about?”

  We both shake our heads.

  “Well, from where I stand, you’re riding a fine line, and have possibly broken about ten laws, that I know of.”

  “Not entirely true. I’ve done extensive research online, and our practices are accepted under the PI statutes.”

  “Yes, for licensed professionals.”

  “Stop goading him,” I say under my breath.

  “Tell me about tonight, Emi.”

  I spill the story of Bailey and Justin, Maren interjecting details as she feels she needs to. When I’m done, Walker’s face is hard, the tick in his jaw returning.

  He stares blankly at us then lets loose. “ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY!?! Hacking? Fake identities? Following two complete strangers into a room without knowing what was behind the door? Have you lost your minds?”

  His words sink in, and while I think he’s being a bit dramatic, he has a point.

  “Sweetie, we watched the crowd. We knew we were safe.”

  He clenches his fists, dropping his chin to his chest and exhaling loudly. “Maybe not tonight, but crawling through backyards? What about the night at the hotel? Ten minutes later, you could have been involved in a gambling bust.”

  My eyes bulge, knowing he’s aware we were there. “You know it was us?”

  “I didn’t at the time, but I saw the video a few weeks ago and had a gut feeling something wasn’t right. Then Marcus sent me this video. Everything started falling into place.”

  “You can’t tell Marcus it’s us,” I stupidly respond.

  “Marcus is the least of my worries. Right now, I’m trying to wrap my head around the fact that you’d put yourself in these situations, and that you’ve been keeping this from me. I don’t tolerate liars.”

  “I’m not a liar. Just because I didn’t tell you doesn’t mean—”

  Any control he was holding on to breaks, and he throws his hands in the air. “I’m a cop, Emi, a cop! I can’t have a girlfriend who breaks the law and puts herself in danger for whatever the fuck’s sake. How can I trust you? What the hell else are you keeping from ME?” He screams so loud I jerk back on the sofa and curl in a ball.