The Devil Inside (28 page)

“And you don’t haul her in because…?”

Adam gave me the kind of condescending look you’d give a preschool 180 / 226

Jenna Black, The Devil Inside (2007)

Morgan Kingsley #1

child. “Because then my number-one informant wouldn’t be on the street anymore. Letting her continue to operate is a necessary evil.” He gave me a look somewhere between a grin and a sneer. “Besides, you should be damn grateful I don’t haul in every illegal demon I meet, or I’d have arrested you the first night I knew you were possessed, and you’d be ashes by now.”

I wanted to debate this some more, but managed to reel myself back in. I had more important things to think about right now than the morality of allowing police snitches to roam free. “Why does any of this mean we can’t storm the club? And please don’t tell me it’s just because you don’t want to offend your snitch.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just that she has other contacts within the police department. Contacts who will warn her if we try to orchestrate a raid on her club.”

“And this necessary evil of yours would tell the people who have Brian and they’d, what, kill him? And she wouldn’t have a problem with that?”

My voice was rising again, along with my blood pressure. I reminded myself for the millionth time that I needed Adam’s help and that yelling at him wasn’t the best way to get it.

“Shae is a mercenary, through and through,” Adam said. A tick in his jaw suggested I was getting on his nerves, but so far he seemed better in control of his temper than I was of mine. “Pay her enough, and she’ll be happy to overlook just about anything. But believe me, she’s a lot less malevolent than most illegals. And we’re not debating this. The situation is what it is. If we try to mount an assault, she’ll hear about it, and she’ll take whatever precautions she feels are necessary, up to and including allowing Raphael’s people to kill your dearly beloved. So no police support. What’s your next idea?”

I thought it was a sign of my newfound maturity that I managed to let the subject drop. Not that it was easy when righteous indignation threatened to overwhelm me. But I had to keep focused, had to get Brian out of there. I could complain about the snitch thing later.

“If the frontal assault is out,” I said, and only a hint of my anger showed in my voice, “then I guess we’re just going to have to be sneaky.”

“And you have a plan for this sneaky rescue?” Adam asked, giving me his best bland look.

“No. But I bet someone as intimately familiar with the place as you are 181 / 226

Jenna Black, The Devil Inside (2007)

Morgan Kingsley #1

can come up with one.” My smile at that point was no doubt sickeningly sweet.

Unfortunately, Adam smiled back. His smile, however, was not sweet.

“Oh, I think I can come up with a suggestion.”

Why did I think I wasn’t going to like this suggestion of his? “All right,”

I said, accepting the inevitable, “lay it on me.”

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Jenna Black, The Devil Inside (2007)

Morgan Kingsley #1

My suspicion that I wouldn’t like Adam’s plan was spot-on. Go figure. However, since I couldn’t come up with a better one…

That afternoon, I had the unique pleasure of going shopping with a police escort. Adam, of course. Hoping that none of the bad guys would see us together, he drove me to New Jersey for this little expedition instead of taking me to any of the Philadelphia spots. He stole glances out of the rearview mirror every five seconds while we drove, but he said he didn’t see any signs of pursuit.

Our first stop was at a dive of a salon, where I let a gum-cracking teenager with hair like roadkill bleach my hair a very white blond. She did the same to my eyebrows, then moussed my hair into sticky spikes. I looked wretched, but I also hardly looked like myself, which was the idea. Next, we went to a dive of a clothing shop that specialized in biker-slut couture. Adam browbeat me into buying a black vinyl miniskirt, a black leather bustier that laced up the front and didn’t close all the way, and black vinyl thigh-high boots with stiletto heels. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

When I emerged from the dressing room to purchase my costume—I refused to think of these as clothes—I saw that Adam had added a pair of black leather wrist cuffs dotted with silver studs and a black leather dog collar with similar decoration.

I started shaking my head violently, but he tore the clothes out of my hands, piled them on the counter, and handed the amused salesclerk his credit card.

“If we’re going to do this, love, we’re going to do it right.”

I imagined wearing that outfit out in public and considered the possibility that I might just prefer to die.

Our last stop was a shop that specialized in theater makeup, where we bought pancake makeup, obnoxious black lipstick, and obnoxious black eyeliner.

Well, okay, the eyeliner wasn’t that obnoxious. It was just that I knew 183 / 226

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Morgan Kingsley #1

how much of it he was going to make me wear.

Late in the afternoon, Dominic called Adam’s cell to let him know the expected videotape had arrived at my office. Delivered by messenger service, of course, so we couldn’t track it to its source. I asked what was on the tape, but all Adam would tell me was that Dom said it was “what you’d expect.” Maybe I was better off not knowing.

I called Andrew from a pay phone, seething with hatred. We began negotiations for Brian’s release, discussing where we would do the trade, but my temper got the better of me again and he hung up on me. It was just as well—we needed to stall a bit anyway, because I wasn’t about to turn myself in.

We met Dominic for dinner at what I would swear was a Family-owned Italian restaurant, then we rented a cheesy motel room. Adam didn’t want any chance that the bad guys would see me within three feet of him with my new do, and he wanted to make sure we weren’t followed when we showed up at the club.

On the theory that it would be easier to disappear into the crowd if the club was as crowded as possible, we decided to show up around midnight. At ten-thirty, we started getting me into costume. Yes, it was a team effort. Not that I needed help getting into my clothes, what there was of them, but I definitely needed help with the makeup. I tried not to laugh hysterically while Dominic covered my all-too-recognizable tattoo with that thick, pore-clogging pancake makeup. Adam sent me back to the bathroom three times to put on more eyeliner and lipstick, until I looked like a biker slut in clown makeup. Then Dominic took his turn in that bathroom. I hadn’t seen what his costume looked like yet, but I figured it couldn’t possibly be as hideous as mine. Adam gave me a definite once-over when Dom disappeared into the bathroom. His grin was lascivious in the extreme and made me want to lace the bustier tighter. But I’d already laced it as tight as it would go if I still wanted to breathe. There was at least a one-inch gap between my breasts, and the tight lacing meant lots of cleavage. Adam licked his lips. “Such a shame you insisted on buying panties,” he said. “It would have been so much fun imagining you in that outfit without them.”

I gaped at him. The look in his eyes was pure lust, and unless he’d 184 / 226

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Morgan Kingsley #1

shoved a cucumber down the front of his pants while I wasn’t looking, it was genuine.

I cast a furious look at the bathroom door, but Adam just laughed.

“Don’t worry, love. While I can’t help admiring the view, this,” he said as he ran his hand down the bulge, “is all for Dom.”

My face flamed, amusing him even more. I wondered if maybe I should try to revive the awkwardness of this morning. I think I liked it better than when he felt comfortable with me.

At that moment, the bathroom door opened.

Dominic wasn’t as tricked out as me, but he definitely didn’t look himself. He’d slicked back his unruly hair with something that gave it a greasy shine, and he’d changed into a black mesh T-shirt and obscenely tight black leather pants. He also wore cuffs and collar, similar to mine.

“What’s all for me?” he asked, eyebrows raised, but he must have picked up on the particular flavor of tension in the room because his eyes zeroed in on Adam’s groin. I didn’t think the color that rose to his cheeks was entirely embarrassment. “Oh,” he mumbled.

His pants were easily tight enough to show he appreciated Adam’s appreciation. I wanted out of the room more than I could say.

“Morgan,” Adam said, and there was a hint of sharpness to his voice that made me look up. “You’re going to have to at least pretend you’re comfortable with us. The Seven Deadlies is not the place for prudishness, especially not when you’re supposed to be our third.”

God, please kill me now.

I’d been mentally shielding myself all day, trying not to think about this wonderful plan of ours. But I couldn’t do it forever. As plans go, it wasn’t much. Not knowing how many people—and demons—were guarding Brian, and not knowing what condition he would be in, there wasn’t a whole lot of advance planning we could do. All we knew for sure was that we had to find our way into that basement. Considering what went on down there, there was only one way to manage it. My acting skills are lousy, and if I actually had to participate in any S&M sex games, I’d never be able to do it. So Adam had come up with a story for me. I was Adam’s new human plaything-in-training because Dominic without his demon just wasn’t satisfying enough. But I was being punished, so for tonight, I would be allowed to observe, but not participate. 185 / 226

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“If it makes you feel any better,” Dominic said with a nervous smile,

“I’m not what you’d call comfortable with this, either. Saul had no qualms about performing in public. I do.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling vaguely ashamed of myself for not thinking about that. I’d seen evidence before that Dominic wasn’t an exhibitionist. “I’m really sorry—”

“It’ll be okay,” Adam interrupted, closing the distance between himself and Dominic and putting both hands on his lover’s shoulders. “I’ll make you comfortable.” His hands slid up Dominic’s neck until they cupped his face and pulled his head down for a kiss.

My first instinct was to look away, but I fought it. They’d warned me what I might see at the club once we got into the basement, and if I couldn’t handle watching a couple of guys kiss, I was in deep shit. It didn’t take long for Dom to get over his bashfulness. He abandoned himself to that kiss like there was no one else in the room, pressing his body tight against Adam’s and making contented sounds in the back of his throat.

When Adam’s hands slid down Dom’s back until they cupped his ass, I honestly wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. A part of me certainly wanted to look away, but I couldn’t deny that another part—perhaps even a larger part—was wildly turned on by the sight. They were just so damn sexy, both of them. My inner slut would have loved to slip in between them right now, absorb the incredible sexual energy they exuded. I wanted to slide my hands over Dominic’s ass, just like Adam did, and feel Adam’s impressive erection digging into my belly. Or maybe even other places…

I shook my head to clear it, and the lust level lowered enough to let me tear my eyes away. However, my pulse still hammered in my throat, and I doubted I would ever get those images out of my brain. I cleared my throat loudly. “Okay, boys, I got the point. Now could we just get on with it?”

They both laughed.

“I’d love to get on with it,” Adam said suggestively. Like a fool, I let my gaze slide over to them again, only to see that Adam’s hand had moved. Now it wasn’t Dom’s ass he was stroking. Dom’s eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open, his head thrown back in pleasure. As far as I could tell, he’d forgotten I was in the room. Or he just didn’t care 186 / 226

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anymore.

I mustered my mental forces. “Look, the man I love may be getting tortured right this moment. Do you think you could forego the incredible pleasure of making me uncomfortable so we can rescue him?”

Adam sighed dramatically but let his hand fall away. Dominic opened his eyes and visibly swallowed a protest.

“All right,” Adam said. “You have a point.” He gave Dominic’s hand a quick squeeze, then stepped away to put on his shoulder holster. Unlike Dominic and me, he wasn’t wearing a costume. Since he was required to carry his sidearm at all times, he said he’d always found it easier just to dress like a normal person and wear a jacket to hide the weapon when he went to The Seven Deadlies.

I thanked God for small mercies. Adam was dangerously sexy in his street clothes. I’d hate to see what he’d look like in some kind of bad-boy costume.

Just before we ventured out of the room, Dominic handed me a cell phone.

“Here,” he said. “In case we get separated.”

“We won’t!” Adam said, and it was clearly an order.

“We won’t,” I agreed. But I took the cell phone anyway, sticking it into a convenient pocket at the top of one thigh-high boot, and Adam didn’t object.

We arrived at the club shortly after midnight. The nearest parking was two blocks away. I felt like everyone on the street was staring at me as we walked those endless two blocks. It was all in my mind, of course—I probably didn’t look all that outlandish in a South Street–after–midnight context.

I practiced taking slow, deep breaths, and reminded myself that Brian’s life might well depend on me keeping calm and collected. From the outside, The Seven Deadlies didn’t look like anything special. The neon sign above its doorway was actually rather understated, and the facade was for the most part unadorned. I guess I’d expected the place to scream out its nature from miles away, though Adam and Dominic had reminded me repeatedly that it was both more and less than an S&M club. At a ticket booth right inside the front door, Adam and Dominic showed 187 / 226