Shared: A Dark MFM Menage Romance

by Lauren Landish

  “My fault,” Daniel whispered, his eyes flicking left and right before focusing on me, their icy blueness softening to angelic warmth. “Good night, beautiful lady.”

  Chapter 14

  Daniel

  Three days later, I was still walking in heaven, but I was also seriously pissed off. I was in heaven because I'd never had such a sensual, exciting time before in my life. Every moment with Adriana was pure, agonizing bliss. We found little ways to sneak in shared contact and moments, like her resting her hand on the console of my car while I drove her anywhere. When I could, I'd reach over and lay my right hand on hers, just resting there until I had to make a turn.

  Adriana started coming to the house gym not once or twice a week, but each of the past three days. It was motivating and sexy to work out in front of her, something I'd never experienced before. Exercise was for fitness and performance, not foreplay. At least, that's what I'd thought until Adriana started doing hip bridges in short, tight shorts—supposedly to tighten her backside, but in the meantime, giving me one hell of a show.

  Mostly though, we found private places around campus in the form of closed classrooms or private nooks in the library where we could hold each other. In those spaces, there was no Bertoli or Neiman, and there was no danger. It was our own private little world, where I was able to feast on her kisses, to run my fingers through her hair, and even when we were feeling super frisky, caress the soft weight of her breast through her shirt while she cupped my balls through my shorts. Teenager stuff, but I was still enthralled.

  The second night I'd gone into Adriana's room, just after two in the morning, I found her sitting up, nervous. “I was afraid you wouldn't come,” she whispered, climbing out of bed and walking over to me. “I was going crazy in here.”

  We didn't just fuck, but instead we made love, even if it was hasty. Each night, Adriana gave herself to me while I taught her what her body was really capable of feeling.

  “I'm drunk from our time together, and I want to explore more with you.”

  I was drunk too, knowing the risks each night when I opened her door, and each night, not caring as she kissed me for the first time. I needed Adriana like I needed air and water. I couldn't stop.

  I was happy in a way I'd never felt before. But, three days later, I was seriously pissed off. Not at Adriana, but at Adam. He hadn't messaged me in two days, not even his normal message of 'nothing new.' With Drake still out there, I was getting annoyed.

  That morning, as we drove to school, Adriana noticed. “What's wrong?” she asked, her hand resting on mine. While we couldn't be sure my car wasn't bugged by Don Bertoli himself—after all, it had been his men who'd secured my car—we could still talk about other things. “You're looking more tense than normal today.”

  “Haven't heard from Adam in a few days. I hope he isn't slacking off,” I growled, pulling my hand away to make a right turn. “I need his help.”

  “I'm sure he's doing his best,” she replied, trying to reassure me. “Have you tried calling his office?”

  I shook my head. “He's kind of a one-man operation. He says he has assistants, but what he means is that he has people he sometimes shops out work to. Your case, though, he was handling personally. And the only contacts I have for him are his cellphone and email.”

  “Well then, have you tried calling him?” Adriana asked with a chuckle. “I mean, that's what I'd do.”

  “Of course, but he's not picking up. I left him a message. I was going to give some other people a call this afternoon and see if he'd been by. He was giving the girl at that Starlight Club quite the look when I last saw him. Knowing Adam, he's gone back at least once.”

  “She's that hot, huh?”

  “Men will do stupid and dangerous things for women they're attracted to,” I replied, giving her a meaningful look, which she returned with a smile. It was the closest we came to saying how we felt in the car. “So I'll wait until the club is open, then give them a call.”

  After lunch, I did just that, sitting next to Adriana in the cafeteria while I dialed. The phone rang a few times, and I was just getting ready to leave a message when Terry, the manager, picked up, sounding out of breath. “Starlight Club, what can I do for you?”

  “Terry, it's Daniel Neiman,” I said, giving him a second to adjust. “How's it going?”

  As usual, Terry semi-freaked out when he heard my voice. I didn't know why. Other than the incident with Carmen, I'd never even had to threaten the man. He was always on time with his payments and had never given the Bertolis any reason to be concerned about him. He even threw in some free extras to Bertoli men from time to time, but he still acted like we were about to burn the place down whenever we even talked. “Good afternoon, sir. What can I do for you today, sir?”

  I rolled my eyes, letting Adriana listen in some, and she covered her mouth, laughing silently at the overabundance of the word sir. “Terry, I'm calling for some information, nothing more. My friend I brought by the other night, Adam . . . has he come by the club again recently? I'm trying to get a hold of him.”

  “He was here last night, actually,” Terry said, relief in his voice. “Uhm, I don't know if you would approve sir, but he and Carmen left the club. I think they may have gone on a date.”

  I nearly dropped my phone, I was so surprised. “A date? No offense, but doesn't that break the rules?”

  “It does, but Carmen is quite taken with him for some reason. I don't have any leverage on her. She's clean and sober, totally debt free. She dances by choice. And from what she told me, Adam doesn't have a problem if she continues to dance. There's little I can do to stop them.”

  “Never mind. Good for Adam,” I said, dismissing it with a small laugh. “Listen, can you please give Carmen a call? I doubt you want to give me her number, but just tell her that if she's in contact with Adam, I need to speak to him immediately. Think you can do that?”

  “Of course, sir. However, Carmen should be in at three o'clock today, if that's okay.”

  “Okay, but please call me back no later than five. Thanks, Terry.”

  “It is no problem, sir. Uhm, one thing though.”

  “What's that?” I asked. Adriana sat back, and I pulled the phone to my ear.

  “About the first meeting between the two and the matter of the bill. It isn't much, only a thousand, but I was wondering when we might be able to settle it?”

  I chuckled and looked at Adriana, who gave me an innocent look. Now that we were together, if you could even call it that, it seemed that she wasn't as upset about the other side of my work any longer. “I can stop by this evening, say around nine or so. If Carmen is around then, I need to talk with her. Professionally. Maybe backstage?”

  “A VIP would be better, sir. The other girls will be preparing for work, and your reputation precedes you. But I'll let her know.”

  “Thank you, Terry. Goodbye.”

  I hung up my phone and noticed Adriana's look, a small, affectionate smile of amusement. “What?”

  “You asked a dynamite stripper to wear clothes for a conversation,” she said with a proud little smirk. “I guess I am having an effect on you.”

  The VIP lounge was quiet. I'd turned on some Samuel Barber music to drown out the outside noise when Carmen came in, looking totally different than I'd ever seen her before. Out of her stripper clothes, she looked like one of the girls I'd seen running around the college campus the past few weeks—or even younger. When she noticed that I was looking at her strangely, she blushed and looked down. “What, Papi?”

  “Just . . . I know this sounds strange, but you look a lot different, Carmen. Better, if you can dig it.”

  “I can,” she said, even sounding different from the Latina seductress I'd known her as. “And thank you. Most of the guys I dance for seem to only think of me in that short skirt with my boobs hanging out. I doubt any of them give a damn otherwise.”

  “Except it seems Adam does,” I said, using her comment to broach the
subject of my visit. “Can I ask?”

  Carmen laughed, giving me a genuine smile. “Well, he definitely was disarmingly charming—not like the type that usually comes in here. So when he asked if he could see me again, I said yes, and without him asking, I gave him my phone number. I figured he'd never call, but he did, and we've been out twice since. Breakfast both times—we tend to work hours that preclude romantic dinners and such.”

  “That's kind of what I wanted to ask you about,” I said. “I'm sure you know I work for Don Bertoli.”

  “Of course I know. Everyone does,” Carmen said, her voice serious. Carlo Bertoli was not a man most people wanted to joke about. “Honestly, it's why you scared me so much that night you lost control. You're the sort of man who could blow my brains out and not face any repercussions.”

  “I don't know about that, but I’m still sorry about that. You didn't deserve what I did, that's for sure. You were a bit . . . how shall we put it?”

  Carmen laughed. “Let's just put that behind us—how about that? So what's your question?”

  “Recently, the Bertoli family has been threatened. I've been assigned as bodyguard to his niece, and I asked Adam to look into the person coming after her. He was giving me daily updates until two days ago. Do you know what happened?”

  Carmen thought, then blushed slightly. “I know what happened two nights ago,” she said with a smile.

  “Well, that explains that night,” I said, “but what happened since?”

  “I don't know. I haven't heard from him, and it seemed like he really liked me.”

  I thought for a moment, perplexed. She must've really put him off his game. I wanted him to have fun, but I didn't want it interfering with his work. I waved it off and finished my drink. “Okay. Thanks, Carmen. Look, if you hear from Adam, tell him I need to talk to him immediately. Let me ask—how much would you make if you worked the rest of your shift?”

  She sat back and thought, tapping at her lip with her perfectly sculpted gel nail. “Easy. Tonight's a Thursday, so we'd only get some of the early college boy crowd and the diehards. Not too good, honestly. Maybe three or four hundred at most?”

  I pulled out my billfold and took out five hundred. “Here. Take the rest of the night off, and after my current duties with the Bertoli family are wrapped up, let me talk to the Don. He's always looking for smart people who can do more than just shake their ass in sweaty guys’ faces."

  Carmen smiled. “You know, even girls like me have dreams.”

  “What's that”

  Carmen sighed and looked down at her feet. “I want to open my own dance studio. I went to the International Dance Academy for ten years until my father died and I had to give it up. I don't have the turnout to be a professional ballerina either way, but I would still love to teach.”

  “Who knows? Maybe that can still happen,” I said. I opened the door to the VIP room and turned back. “Recently, I've had changes in my life's outlook too.”

  Leaving her behind, I went to the bar and offered Terry a hundred-dollar bill. “Thanks, and Carmen's taking the rest of the night off,” I said.

  “Okay, sir,” the manager said. I barely heard him, leaving the bar and heading off into the night. Where the hell was Adam?

  I had more questions than answers when I got back to the Bertoli estate and was surprised to find Adriana still up and in the living room. “Can't sleep?”

  “Remember, we start late tomorrow. I was just enjoying time with Mom and Uncle Carlo,” Adriana said, stretching out on the sofa, knowing exactly what the look of her legs was doing to me. “Have a nice trip to the strip club?”

  “Very funny. It was just business,” I replied. “Still, questions abound, and I'm not pleased about it.”

  “Oh, tell me,” she said, pointing at the chair next to her. It was still close enough that we could easily see each other without sharing the same seat. It was safe.

  I told her about my conversation with Carmen. Her eyes twinkled when I got to the part about Carmen and Adam seeing each other, as if she actually knew them and was happy. “Seriously? That's awesome!”

  “Ade, you don't even know them,” I reminded her. “Why would you even care?”

  “Guess I'm just feeling romantic,” Adriana said with a smile. “And besides, why can't I cheer for people I don't know?”

  I was about to answer when my phone rang, and I pulled it out of my pocket. “Speak of the devil,” I said in a pleasantly good mood. I was planning to only curse him out a little bit when I saw that the call was a video call. “Hmm, this is new.”

  I hit the button, and the first image was of a plastic-tiled ceiling. The panels and grate on top were only slightly identifiable. There was a glaring light off to the upper left corner of the screen, and I could hear someone breathing. “Adam, tilt the camera, man,” I said with a laugh. “You can't video call for shit.”

  The breathing intensified, and I grew worried. That didn't sound like him at all. “Beefcake. Hard to see you at this angle, but I wanted to keep the surprise going a while longer.”

  I looked at Adriana, who had dropped her feet over the side of the couch, her face turning pasty white. “Drake,” she whispered. “I'd know that voice anywhere.”

  “What do you want, Vincent? And how'd you get this phone?” I asked, not letting on that Adriana was in the room. “I know it's you.”

  The camera angle spun and twisted nauseatingly, and suddenly, I saw him. By now, I was familiar with his image. I'd studied the photographs I could find of him extensively, and I could see where Adriana was right. He looked the part of a loser.

  The scary thing was that his face looked like that of an accountant who had gone insane. There was a baleful glint to his eyes, a certain shine that I'd seen before in Bertoli men who had gotten a little too close to the line in terms of committing crimes and killing others. I killed because I had to; men like Drake killed because they liked to. “Ah, there we are. I assume you know what I look like, Beefcake. You probably know a lot about me.”

  “I know a little bit, Staff Sergeant Vincent Drake. I know you're a fucking psycho who got his rocks off raping and murdering an innocent girl. They didn't put that in the papers, but I know the truth. You tried, didn't you?”

  “Did more than try, dumb shit,” Drake said. “Say hello, baby. I can see that red hair of yours on the side of the screen. Don't be shy; you've got your big strong protector right there next to you.”

  I glanced at Adriana, who shook her head. “No way. Fuck this guy.”

  “But that's all you had to do,” he said with a maniacal giggle. “I told you, you and I are meant to be together forever.”

  “So you kill and terrorize, and do it all to Genesis lyrics?” I yelled, barely controlling my voice. “I swear, I'll tear your heart from your fucking chest if you ever come near her.”

  “I doubt that very much, beefcake. You're just some stupid mob muscle. I'd wear your guts for a belt and not even break a sweat,” Drake said.

  I heard another sound, something muffled in the background. “What is that? You can cut the corny movie bad guy lines now.”

  Drake giggled again and smiled into the camera. “Just a warning, or maybe a preview of what's coming to you, beefcake. Or should I say, D-man?”

  “Are you going to show me, or are you going to bullshit some more?”

  “You mean like this?” he asked, turning the phone around. I could see more of the room. It looked like he was in some sort of meat locker, but from the lack of frost and other things, one that had long been unused except for the single hook in the middle. Hanging from the hook, his ankles tied together and his arms tied underneath him to what looked like some big gym-style dumbbells, was Adam, his eyes wide and his mouth covered with duct tape.

  “Shit,” I whispered softly, disgusted. I knew exactly why he'd been hung that way. By turning him upside down, all the blood was rushing to his head, keeping him conscious longer during torture. The plates would pull on his s
houlders and ankles, adding to the pain he was feeling. It was like being racked, except that the pain was longer, less traumatic. The torture was more mental and exhausting. “You son of a bitch.”

  “Oh, you should see what comes next,” Drake laughed, the camera jostling as he positioned it somewhere. “Excuse the angle. I don't have a tripod for this, after all. It's not like the phone's mine.”

  “Turn away,” I said to Adriana, whose eyes were fixed on the image on the screen. “You don't need to see this.”

  Drake knelt and ripped the tape off Adam's mouth, balling it up and tossing it aside. “Howdy, Mr. Private Dick! You can say something to the camera if you want.”

  “Fuck you,” Adam gasped dryly, his face etched in agony. “I'm not going to beg for you. Fuck you.”

  “What, you don't want to say hello to D-man?” Drake said with a laugh. “Why not?”

  “I said everything I needed to say to him in my last email. He's going to hunt you down. He'll find you, and you'll get what you deserve. That's what he does. That's who he is.” Adam's eyes were wide with pain, but still, I could see what he was trying to tell me. I promised myself that I would remember his courage and conviction. Even facing his death, he was trying to nail the bastard who'd gotten to him.

  Without another word, Drake walked to the camera and cut the call. I set my phone down with shaking hands and turned to Adriana. I'd expected her to be nearly catatonic. After all, the man had been mentally torturing her for months. Instead, she was lucid, aware, and looking me in the eyes with newfound strength. “You're going to take him down,” she said.

  I nodded. “I need to wake up your mother and uncle,” I said. “I need to get to Adam's apartment before Drake does.”

  “Why?” Adriana said, standing up. She was a bit shaky and her face was pale, but she was still there.

  “Adam was trying to tell me something. I think he had some more information he was going to send me on his computer. We tended to exchange thumb drives, not emails. After all, the NSA can't tap a thumb drive. But if Drake was paying attention, he's going to want that computer too.”