Chapter 8

The damp wind slapped at Seth’s cheeks, raking its spring chill over his scalp, through his short hair. He and Quint bumped over a set of railroad tracks on a long stretch of road that appeared to head out of town, pulling up not too long later to a metal security gate with electrified spikes and razor wire at the top. Security lights flooded the otherwise dark street in place of the smashed out lights, revealing the graffiti that covered the fence’s long expanse.

Eyes on the pin pad at the gate, Seth grinned. “Shall we knock or let ourselves in?”

Quint stilled against him, his body pressed closer than it had been in a long time. “Umm...I was a little out of it when Noah brought me here. I believe that was intentional, so...I’m not sure.”

The idea of a bloodthirsty merc like Noah Leonov with his hands all over Quint made Seth’s skin crawl, but he couldn’t do anything about it other than make sure the man stayed as far away as possible from Quint from now—

No.

Quint was on a mission. They both were. Jealousy had no place in this situation. Only the tasks they both needed to do—and be willing to do—in order to accomplish Vani’s ends and get Quint back on her ‘nice’ list.

Shaking his head at himself, Seth ran his fingers over the pin pad next to a recessed door in a vestibule designed for that purpose. “You okay with him fucking you again?”

“Been there once, I’ll do what I have to with whoever necessary.” Quint’s tone was the light, unreadable one he used sometimes. “If that wasn’t clear. Are you worried about me, who’s already been here, or yourself?”

One brow raised, Seth gave Quint an arch glance as they dismounted. He rolled his motorcycle out of the way of the gate and lit a cigarette. “Fine. And as far as I know, you’ve been there with both of them. I wasn’t the one still wearing Jared’s tag until tonight. You’re my sub for however long this mission takes, and I want to at least try to be mindful there could be damage I’m unearthing here for you. But you’re right. I’ll stop worrying. Let you take it as it comes.”

With that same smile, Quint nodded. “If it pleases you, sir.”

“Smartass.” Muttering under his breath, Seth studied the numbers on the pin pad, examining them for wear. With the digits etched into the metal, he had better luck testing the wobble. Six, four, seven, and nine showed less sponginess than the others. A smile lifted his lips, ash flaking in a cascade to the top of the weather shield over the box.

“Six, seven…” Seth punched the numbers in the most obvious numeric pattern they presented, using the task to further separate himself from his emotions. “Four. Nine.” When the gate didn’t open, he went for the left to right pattern, pressing faster. “Four. Nine. Six. Seven.”

Electricity buzzed faintly in the box, the door opening with a click. He rolled his motorcycle through the gate, noting the packed parking lot, and parked it in an out of the way corner, holding out his hand for his helmet. “Busy night.”

“Yes.” Quint kept close to his side. “I was...paying close attention last time I was here. Just in case.”

“Hm.” Really, Seth didn’t buy the whole ‘Noah is unstable and I must fuck him to save the world’ act, but it wasn’t really any of his business beyond needing to make sure the mission stayed on track so he could get Quint’s ass out of the fire. Keep telling yourself that, Bizenhofer. “Must be a lot of action inside. Rhodey is slow tonight.”

The name Rhodey Leonov conjured up the memories of Jared’s revelation again, that first night when they’d all owned up to what they wanted from each other. Seth breathed deep, more than ready to meet the mythical creature who’d fascinated the merc underworld for as long as both he and Quint had been involved, both inside and outside the military. That the man had no idea Seth knew exactly who he was to Jared was probably a good thing. That kind of information was a little too valuable. A weakness.

Hand on one hip, he finished his smoke, examining the nineteenth century warehouse turned club’s brick facade, the high arched windows, and egress and entry points. An antenna array on the roof. Several security lights with break shields.

Getting past the camera feed had been easy enough with the information from his employer, but he had no doubt someone noticed his entry. At least, if Leonov’s reputation was worth more than the spit the man likely used in place of lube. If he used anything at all.

He’d proved his point. So, he waited. No sense getting himself and Quint shot for trying to walk through the front door.

“What are you doing here?” The sharp tone made it very clear they weren't welcome. Or expected. Or going to live long if Seth didn’t come up with the right answer.

At least six five of solid muscle, the merc was an unyielding and palpable force blocking his and Quint’s way into The Asylum. Close shorn dark hair, sharp features, and a piercing gaze that seemed to look right through him, Seth catalogued with detachment, trying to picture him as that teen who had saved Jared from a living emotional hell that no child should have to endure.

Dropping his cigarette to the lot, he used the heel of his boot to grind it into the pavement as he exhaled in a long stream, making sure he didn’t block Rhodey’s view of his or Quint’s hands. “Vani says hello.”

Cursing under his breath, Rhodey let out an irritated sigh. “Of course she does. We’ll be having a chat, me and her, but until then…” His jaw worked. “Be very careful. You fuck with my people and I’ll remind her what she owes me when I deliver your bodies.”

“If you’re going to flirt, you can at least buy us a drink.” Pulling out another cigarette, Seth held up the pack, fingers wide. “Or we can stay out here while you play a game of telephone. I’m behind by at least half a pack.”

“Sucks to be you.” Rhodey’s lips slanted slightly. “The Asylum doesn’t sell cigarettes. Only cigars. Get some class and you’ll be fine.” He nodded toward the door. “Go on in if you want. I’ll vouch for you. Don’t make me regret it.”

“Thanks.” Seth nodded, slipping the pack away, deciding to drop in some information he knew would come out soon enough. “I couldn’t remember if I needed my membership card.”

“I take it this is going to be a prolonged visit. If I didn’t have a feeling this is more than a social call, I’d appreciate the resourcefulness. I’d know if one of Vani’s people was on the official membership list, which means you’re an investor. You have an honorary one you’ve never used.” Rhodey shook his head as he checked something on his phone. “Give Lawson a heads up. He’ll give you one if you want, but it doesn’t matter, either way. We both know you can come here whenever you damn well please. Officially, anyway. Unofficially?” He studied Seth for a moment. “We’ll see.”

Quint shifted almost imperceptibly at Seth’s side, probably recalling exactly how unwelcome he’d be. That Seth’s foresight was the only reason he’d ever set foot in The Asylum again. But he kept his mouth shut.

Tipping his head back, Seth stared up at the fourth floor windows. He nudged his chin up. “He home?”

“Yes.” Rhodey’s jaw worked. “And if I’d known you were alive sooner, I’d have prepared him. He’s already gotten one unpleasant shock.” He looked at Quint. “I’m going to call him before he comes down and make sure he doesn’t have another. But he’s a smart man, I’m sure he’s figured things out. I’m going to ask, out of mutual respect, that you steer clear if he asks you to.”

Leveling his gaze, Seth studied gray eyes fringed in dark lashes. Brutality colored in the lines of high cheekbones and an unyielding jaw. Both sat well on the man. Handsome. But not Seth’s kind of fuck.

His lips thinned. “It’s a little late for that. I believe the ‘fuck off and die’ order was issued the last time we spoke. Though I’m not positive. I was a little drunk.”

This time, Rhodey stepped forward, voice low. Hard. “You don’t belong here. He does. Vani doesn’t like sloppy work. If you’re going to be messy, she won’t mind if I do her a favor with cleanup. Are we clear?”

So, I’ll wear a condom.

“I’m not here for him. If I were, I’d have sent a postcard years ago.” Really, Seth needed that drink. Emotional reunions weren’t a fringe benefit. They were a pain in the ass. He’d never intended Jared to know he’d been part of the reason The Asylum was solvent, and that he’d made sure from afar that the man had a roof over his head that could never be taken away from him.

Rhodey’s brow lifted a bit before he gave a slight nod. “Go on in then. Enjoy your night.”

Lifting two fingers in a casual salute, Seth went to the door, glancing at a camera he’d been told would be present. The door buzzed, clicking open, clearly telling him Rhodey had notified whoever manned the door that he was on the guest list, despite his unconventional entry.

Flying under the radar and being all normal about his and Quint’s arrival would’ve been easier, but wouldn’t have garnered him information on Rhodey’s response time. And more likely to get him shot in the head. This way, he and Rhodey understood one another from the start.

Inside, a rustic but somehow expensive bar teemed with fighters, Doms, and leather daddies, who enjoyed cards, pool, and a whole lot of hard liquor. Cigar smoke clouded the air, warming all the polished brass and gleaming wood with a blue-tinged haze.

Seth breathed deep. “I should’ve fucking used my membership sooner.”

“No, that would’ve been a bad idea. I’d have found a way to make you both disappear.” A sub with glasses glanced over as he rounded the bar, like he planned to play bouncer despite being shorter and slighter than both him and Quint. “I still can. Rhodey told me not to, and I mostly listen. Can I get you a drink? Maybe Avery can help me mix something special for you.”

Rounded features. Handsome, but slightly soft in that boyish way. Brown eyes. Brown hair. A bookish demeanor. Yes, he could use this to start tearing down Rhodey’s control.

Seth’s smile broadened. “Fuck. McCleod has a goddamn type.”

Casting him a dry look, Quint spoke under his breath. “Oh, that’s helpful.”

The sub gave Seth a cold glance, ignoring the exchange. “Is that a no, sir?”

“I’ll have an Irish car bomb.” Seth fucked with the code phrase that identified Vani’s mercs, just because. “Thank you...Wren.”

Wren stiffened, then gave a short nod before moving across the bar to serve another member. A sub hopped on the bar, quickly followed by another who leaned close, grinning at him. The first sub with curly hair cocked his head curiously.

Fresh bruises marred lightly tanned skin, neat stitches on one cheek, blue hair messily styled, the more wiry sub’s clothes looked slept in. But he didn’t seem worn out. More like he was on his own mission. A slow smile spread his lips. “Can I have some gum... Reed, right?”

“Yeah…” The curly haired sub’s eyes widened with surprise when the other plucked the gum out of his mouth and stuck it in his own. Then he laughed. “Dude, not sure if that’s hot or gross.”

“Mmm, I saw you just popped it in. Tasty.” The blue haired sub licked his swollen bottom lip. “Am I gonna get in trouble? Wouldn’t want that. I’m new and trying sooo hard to make a good impression.”

Well, that made two of them. On the ‘new’ part anyway.

Reed…

Seth looked the sub over.

Reed Dane.

“Curtis’s boy.”

Glancing over, the curly-haired sub stilled, eying him warily. “Yeah. Who’s asking?”

Seth leaned against the bar, watching as an acrobatic little git did a complicated maneuver to traverse the bar’s heavy overhead beams. “Seth. You can get Lawson. I want to talk to him.”

“Okay…” Reed’s brow furrowed as he glanced over at the sub with the glasses, who gave him a quick nod. He bounced off the bar, dodging the crowd and disappearing behind a door without another word.

“Well fuck, that was a waste.” The blue haired sub leaned over, grinning at Wren. “Can I have a beer, man? I’m being so good!”

Shaking his head, Wren looked around, as though for someone to make the choice for him. “I shouldn’t, but…” He sighed. “Just don’t try to go outside again. You’re not allowed and Ez made me promise not to let you die while he’s at Tracey’s.”

Well, that was easy.

Pretending not to notice the sub, Seth pulled out his phone, scrolling through photos with his hand under the bar. Came up with the one of Pike O’Rourke he’d stolen from his university ID database. Blond strands fell over his eyes, nothing like the Druid blue the boy currently sported, but the laughing expression and saucy grin were the same. Tucking his phone away, Seth ticked the first of his boxes for the visit. Determine whether the man was alive.