by J Paton
“No, I haven’t. I went to see him because he’s directly connected to our case. He was the officer in charge of the armed response team at New Year involved in what happened at The Playroom. He’s also going to be sent undercover in Dom’s Haven.”
“Fuck, he told you that? Why would he share that information with you?”
“Because he wanted to know what I’d found out.”
Something crossed Nix’s face, but it was gone before I could figure out what it was. “You gave him information?”
“It’s a huge risk, especially for me, but yes, I did. He’s an astute man who’s sure to figure out how I obtained the information in the files that I sent to him. However, he’s put himself at greater risk by sharing the fact that he’s going undercover.”
Nix’s eyes narrowed. “There’s more, isn’t there? I’ve got to know you over the last few months. If you shared something of this magnitude, then you were trying to prove that you’re trustworthy.”
Nix was someone else who was astute. It was one of the reasons I’d wanted him on my team. “You’re not wrong.” I rubbed at my temple where Jup seemed to have lodged himself. “I’ll be discussing the next part at the meeting. I’ve taken on another job, one that means I’ll be moving out of here temporarily and into Tucker’s home.” Nix arched a brow at that piece of information. “He has a young man living with him… one that can’t be left alone.”
“Can’t? Or Shouldn’t?”
A grin formed on my lips. “Both, right now, but that’s a story I can’t share. All you need to know is that Jup needs someone to stay with him.”
“Why does it have to be you?”
Jup’s freak out had meant the option of having different men watching over him wasn’t going to be possible. Tucker’s reaction when I wouldn’t leave the room had hammered that home. “Jup doesn’t do well with strangers. He’s very skittish, and last night he had the kind of breakdown that means I wouldn’t consider anyone else but me being there now that he’s met me.”
There was a slow nod, Nix’s lips pursing for a second. “Do you get the vibe that Parks is interested in helping us?”
The door opened and Axel and Gabriel appeared. I shrugged. “I’m not sure what he’s prepared to do. We didn’t get that far, and to be honest I need him to process the information I’ve given him first. He’ll get hold of information we might need to know, and I’m hoping that after meeting the dick detective in charge of the aptly named ‘Operation Dungeon,’ he’ll share that freely. What’s worrying is that after Parks showed an interest in Ferron’s case, he’s now being forced to go back to undercover ops.”
“What the fuck! Forced? How is that even possible?” Nix’s anger was on a tight leash, but I could still hear it.
Axel and Gabriel came to an abrupt halt halfway into the room, both wearing matching frowns. I nodded at both men. “Let’s carry on this conversation when everyone is here.”
Once everyone had arrived, grabbed drinks, and sat, I ran through all the active cases. Only once I’d finished with those, did I explain what had happened with Tucker, missing out the details about Jup. There was a collective silence.
Gabriel sat forward, his forearms resting on the circular meeting table. “Wasn’t Parks in the news with Ferron’s case at New Year? Why are the Met putting someone undercover who’s recently been in the media spotlight? It makes no sense… none. The risk to him…” He rubbed his lips, his eyes narrowing. “This stinks to high heaven. There’s no way they should even consider using an officer located so close to the place they’re going undercover. It’s hellish risky for starters. That doesn’t take into account the ethics of forcing an officer back into undercover ops against his will. You need to be in the right mindset for this kind of work. Do we know why he opted out of undercover work in the first place?”
“Have any of you heard of a place called Player’s Kingdom?” I glanced around the men, only Gabriel and Axel nodding.” “Players Kingdom was a BDSM club based in Newcastle. It was run by a guy called Macintosh, a real gem it would seem from the little I’ve gleaned about him so far. He was involved in sex trafficking, prostitution, suspected of multiple murders, and a list of other crimes too long to list. I haven’t been able to do a thorough search yet, since Tucker only shared the similarities between what went down in Newcastle and what’s happening here last night.” That got everyone’s attention.
Gabriel fiddled with his glass, his gaze fixed on me. “That place was bad news, and from what we’ve learned about Dom’s Haven, I don’t know why we didn’t put the two together. Macintosh got bail and has managed to evade capture ever since. He’s still out there, somewhere.”
Nix ran a hand over his cropped blond and silver hair, his tattooed hands an array of colours. “They gave him bail with all those charges hanging over his head?”
“That’s the judicial system for you,” I gritted out, my anger coming to the surface.
“Is that all it is? I smell a rat fink bastard. People are thrown in jail to await trial for a lot bloody less.”
“What’s your gut say?” I held my breath. Nix’s instincts were second to none. He had an innate ability to figure out when things weren’t as they should be.
“My instincts are telling me it’s all connected. That someone with a lot of power is pulling the strings here. Can you send me everything you can find on Macintosh and Player’s Kingdom? I’ll go through it all and see what patterns I can find. These types rarely change when they find something that works for them. They think they’re way above the law, so they’re not frightened about anyone catching them.”
I nodded. “Could he have set up another business? Or was Dom’s Haven a part of his original set-up, but no one figured it out? That club’s been a cover for illegal activities for a lot longer than four years, I’d bet my career on it.”
Nix shrugged. “Send me the stuff and I’ll see what I can find.”
Gabriel spoke up. “You mentioned Tucker being forced back into undercover ops. Who’s doing that?”
“Assistant Chief Constable Kelly. He’s using Tucker’s breach of protocol, and his previous experience in this field as the hammer to drive him back into undercover work.”
“Holy fuck! Why would someone of that rank be interested in this case?”
I raised a brow at Gabriel. “You tell me?”
“No fucking clue, but I’d suggest we need to find out. It’s all connected to hellhole, somehow.”
“Have you been back?” I asked, even though I suspected I already knew the answer, given the lack of information he’d shared today.
“I’m heading back in tonight. I needed to get my head right first. It’s seriously fucking with my head. That place, Tucker being forced into undercover work, the lack of police follow-up. We’re missing something, and I for one am glad to be out of a police force that either has the most incompetent fucker running the investigation, or…” His face was a tight mask of anger, and I knew every man at the table could surmise where his thoughts had been going.
I couldn’t have agreed more with him. There had to be a connection, but we needed facts first before jumping to conclusions. I sucked in a breath, hoping to regain control of my pounding pulse. I reached for a notepad. “Let’s start with a list of questions that need answers. Then we can figure out who’s the best person to answer them and seek them out.”
Gabriel
The clothes I wore felt like a full suit of armour, pressing heavily against my sweaty skin. I’d had my thumbprint logged into the door, and been given a personal code if the biometric lock decided not to work for any reason. The fuckers thought of everything.
Vic was the Dom watching the door tonight. As I approached, he glanced up from his phone, barely acknowledging me as I passed. I pressed my thumb to the lock and it disengaged a second later, the light going from red to green. I pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold.
The urge to suck in a deep breath was quelled by the smell, wh
ich was no better than it had been the first time. A casual glance around didn’t reveal any security cameras, so I let my nose wrinkle in disgust. Taking small, even breaths, I used a meditation breathing technique to reduce the fluttering in my chest.
Unwilling to risk lingering too long at the top of the stairs, I started my descent the moment I had better control of myself. The lack of sound at the bottom of the stairs indicated that the door was soundproofed. I hadn’t noticed the last time I’d been here as it had been open. Reaching for the handle with a clammy palm, I counted to three before pulling it open and stepping through. The sights and sounds were no less horrific this time round. The room was still shrouded in a dim light. I suspected that might be to stop anyone from paying too much attention to the others in there. Although, I hadn’t figured out whether that was aimed at the Dom’s or the subs, or whether both were shielded.
My focus tonight was on getting close enough to the subs to see if I could identify any of them. Phil had given me a file containing pictures of missing men, men he’d matched to the names in the file labelled LC.
Because of being nothing but a spectator on my first visit, I was concerned that there might be an expectation to play tonight. It was the reason why I’d given myself time to come to grips with things. I’d spent months gaining Riley’s trust to get access. The last thing I wanted was to fail by raising suspicion.
Phil had pointed out how much was at stake when he’d given me the file. Some of the missing men didn’t look old enough to be let out without a parent. He knew me too well, guaranteeing with that action that I’d come back to this hellhole.
Realising I’d remained in the doorway for too long and was drawing attention to myself, I headed past the empty centre stage, and several Dom’s who’d already claimed their sub for the night. Most of the subs were in positions that didn’t allow me to see their faces, a fact that made me silently curse.
Aiming for the bar, I nodded at two men sat at a table conversing. Both were dressed similarly to me, in leather trousers and with a harness over their chests. The smaller guy acknowledged me, but the bigger, hairier guy didn’t so much as glance in my direction. A bloodcurdling scream sent shivers through me but got smiles from the two men. I looked over to the whipping post, the Dom there wielding a bullwhip without any finesse whatsoever, the sub’s back torn and bloody. Deep welts had been cut into the muscle, the gashes uncomfortably wide. Drips of blood remained suspended for a second before falling to the sticky bare floor beneath, its original colour hard to determine with all the dark patches.
I thrust my hands into my pockets, my jaw aching from the restraint of not intervening. Several more blows were delivered before the man lost consciousness. Or that’s what I assumed had happened when he stopped making noise. I’d made sure not to eat before I came out. Now, I was glad because I wasn’t sure the food would have remained in my stomach, especially when the man was released from the restraints and dragged across the floor like a bag of trash.
I continued on to the bar, desperately needing a drink of water to get rid of the foul taste in my mouth. The same bartender who’d served me the previous time took my order without making any small talk.
Glass in hand, I headed over to the far side of the room, wanting to get close to the door where the sub had been taken through. There were two men chained to the wall next to the table I chose to sit at. On my first visit, I’d noted several cameras in the room, one in each corner, one covering the access door, and one covering the door the sub had disappeared through. The cameras weren’t obvious, but to a trained observer they’d been easy enough to spot. Did these men know they were being watched, that they were possibly being filmed?
The clang of metal drew my gaze sideways to the two men suspended from the wall. Their heads hung forward, hair shrouding their faces, the dim light working against me. My heart took a nosedive at not being able to make out any discernible features that I could use to identify them. Shit! Shit! Shit!
***
Slamming the front door behind me, I cursed long and loud, not caring whether the neighbours could hear me or not. I retrieved the untraceable phone from my pocket without bothering to check the time and dialled Phil’s number.
“Gabe, what’s up? Did you find Immanuel?” He sounded alert, like he’d been waiting for my call.
“I wish.” I ran a hand through my hair as I walked through my moonlit apartment, heading over to the window so that I could get some air. “We’ve got a problem.”
“What?” Phil asked, his voice giving nothing away.
“They’re clever fuckers. The position of the men hanging from the walls, and the lighting, makes it nigh on impossible to get a good look at their faces.” Window open, I sucked in a breath, and then another. “The one man I got close enough to… Fuck, his face was so savagely beaten that I didn’t have a clue whether he could be one of the men in the pictures you gave me. Three fucking hours of torturing myself, and for what?” I growled.
“I’m sorry.”
His apology was heartfelt, but it didn’t take away the anger burning through me at how useless I felt. “We have to do something!”
“We are. We have to do it right, Gabe, you know that better than anyone.”
“Fucking hell!” I blew out a breath and then inhaled deeply, hoping it might help, but knowing that nothing would rid me of the image of those men.
“Do you want someone to take over from you? Nix has started as a casual Dom upstairs.”
I rested my head against the glass. It would take too long for Nix to build the rapport needed to get the access I had. “It’ll take too long.”
Phil stayed silent.
“It’s awful leaving them behind,” I whispered, tears falling down my face.
“Yes, it is.”
The expected reply didn’t stop the anguish from crushing my chest. “We need to get this done, and fucking soon,” I said through a choked sob. I wasn’t sure how I’d be able to pick up the pieces if we failed these men.
Tucker
Unable to come up with any viable excuse not to go through the revised codes of Covert Surveillance and Property Interference, along with Covert Human Intelligence Sources, I’d finished faster than I’d have liked. The codes had all been updated in 2018, right after I’d transferred to London. I’d familiarised myself with the information, along with local policy and procedures on major investigations. Now that my head was crammed full, my welfare officer had deemed me ready to reach out to the man assigned to be my handler, Tegan Jones.
We’d connected via the phone I’d been given. The plan was to meet in a small out-of-the-way café in Wapping, one I’d picked that didn’t get much traffic. Gaze fixed on the pavement, I breathed in the warm, exhaust fume filled air while strolling down the street. The information Phil had shared with me could only have been obtained by accessing the Dom’s Haven server illegally. When I wasn’t worrying about Jup, that was all I could think about. Him sharing it with me had automatically made me an accomplice if I didn’t report it.
Was I going to do that? Was I fuck. The parallels to my previous case in Newcastle were undeniable. And regardless of how much I didn’t want to go back undercover, I couldn’t in all good conscience let those men suffer the same fate. Death wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to those poor bastards. Some of the men I’d encountered undercover had begged for death, begging me to put them out of their misery.
My stomach flipped, my mouth watering from the nausea that came with it. I swallowed repeatedly, closing off the part of my mind that I’d shoved the past in. I quickened my pace.
I’d avoided talking to Phil since he’d left my home. We’d messaged and I’d kept him up to date so that he had a timeline when I was going to need him. The place I’d picked to meet my handler came into view, and I eyed the dozen or so tables outside that were full. It was busier than I remembered. I cursed silently, but when I went inside the tables were all empty. A fact that was due to the war
mth of the sun, I suspected.
There was no sign of the man I was meeting. I opted for a table by the window to keep watch, ordering an iced shake first and sitting with my back against the wall. Purposefully keeping my thoughts and worries about the club locked down tight, I watched those out in the street while I sipped my drink.
Minutes later, a man walking through the crowd caught my eye. The dude matched the description I’d been given—tall and bigger built than me. Tegan Jones evidently liked to work out, judging by the bulging muscles stretching the material of his T-shirt to its limit. He strode with confidence through the throng of people, his gaze scanning those around him constantly. He was dressed similarly to me in cargo shorts and a T-shirt, but with flip flops on his tanned feet.
With his shaggy, blond-streaked hair and casual appearance, he looked more like a surfer than a police officer, which I suspected was the point. The snake tattoo on Tegan’s wrist that had been mentioned as an identifier covered his forearm, the tail of the serpent disappearing under the sleeve of his green top.
When our gazes met, I saw the flicker of recognition, Tegan tilting his head in acknowledgement. He walked into the café, going over to the counter first. Once he’d been served, he came over to the table, holding a drink similar to mine.
Tegan gave me a look of approval as his gaze swept over the empty tables around us. We’d be able to talk easily and without anyone eavesdropping on our conversation.
Tegan held out his empty hand. “Hey. Tegan Jones, and you’re Tucker, right?”
Taking his hand, I gave a nod. “Yeah, good to meet you.”
Tegan offered a cheeky grin. “Is it really? Detective Superintendent Kensington gave me the impression that you don’t wanna be back in the field any more than I want to swim with crocodiles,” he joked, his voice low enough not to be overheard by the staff behind the counter.