Motivated by the desire to shut Lex up more than anything else, Jerrick scooped up the papers and thumbed to the third page. The mattress springs squeaked, and he looked over to find Lex flopped on the edge of the bed, twiddling his thumbs. Chuffing an irritated growl, Jerrick returned to the paper and scanned its contents, prepared to find nothing of startling importance. Three quarters of the way down the page, a photo of an impeccably dressed middle-aged man caught his eye, but it was the name printed in bold relief beneath it that provoked his next words. “Holy shit.”
“What did I tell ya?” There was no denying the self-satisfied smirk residing in Lex’s voice.
“Maybe it’s not our scientist.”
“How many Casper Winstons could there possibly be in Tul’dea? Plus look at the title of the article. ‘The Science of Submission’. That’s a heck of a coincidence.”
Scratching his jaw, Jerrick contemplated the page pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “How did you think to look for this?” Due to the delicate sexual nature of the article, it would have been buried plenty deep in the network archives. Hence the reason it hadn’t surfaced during his earlier search.
A bright red stain stampeded up Lex’s neck and homesteaded his face. “Well, I…uh…was just…” The man’s tongue was going to wind up with more knots than a sailor’s rope.
Jerrick held up his free hand. “Forget it, I don’t want to know.” He shoved from the chair and paced the length of the room while he continued reading the remainder of the article. The end credits mentioned a sex club—Rapture. Jerrick flipped back to the page containing the photo of the good doctor. This time he concentrated on the small details he’d overlooked before in his excitement at seeing Casper’s name. A glass of wine rested near the doctor’s hand. Jerrick squinted, trying to make out the word etched on the glass. He dug in his desk drawer and pulled out a magnifier. Holding it to the paper, he clicked the device until the word filled the viewer. Rapture.
“Gotcha.” His senses tingling with the promise of a blessed lead, he punched the access code for the club into his compu-tab. Their home page popped onto his screen, and he scrolled through their welcome spiel before tabbing over to the How to Become a Member page. Everything looked promising until he came to the fifth line.
Full Membership restricted to humans.
A fist-sized ball of frustration slammed him dead center in the sternum. “Sonofabitch.” He crumpled the article into a tight ball and pitched it to the floor. “Another idea destined for the shitter.”
“What’s going on?”
“Any hope of me getting into that club is fucked, that’s what.”
Lex abandoned his perch on the bed and plopped onto the seat Jerrick had vacated. Jerrick continued grumbling to himself, too focused on developing a Plan B to be properly irritated with Lex monkeying around with the compu-tab.
Lex punched a few keys and hummed loudly, increasing Jerrick’s annoyance. “Wait, there’s a loophole in their policy. You can still get in, but only if accompanied by a human.”
The first stirrings of hope gathered in Jerrick’s chest. He kicked the mangled paper ball out of the way and crossed to Lex’s side. The man glanced up at him, his face aglow with excitement. “See? Told you I could help.”
He clamped a hand on Lex’s shoulder. “I gotta give it to you, Tarker, you came through on this one. Now the only thing left to do is to find an accomplice to get me on the inside.”
“I can do it.”
An image of Lex—naked, leashed and harnessed—rushed across Jerrick’s mental big screen. He gave his head a vicious shake. A fifth of Ginnish and a full lobotomy wouldn’t kill that nightmare. “There is no way in hell you’re gonna be my bitch.” Grimacing, he cycled through his potential candidates.
If Mara wasn’t off enjoying her honeymoon, she’d probably volunteer. Of course, he’d have to contend with getting his nose flattened by his brother. Dash tended to be territorial where Mara was concerned. Regardless, that didn’t leave him many other options. The only females he knew in Tul’dea were business acquaintances, and none he’d trust with this level of—
He halted abruptly, nearly leaving skid marks on the floor’s scarred wooden planks. “Aw shit.”
Lex blinked at him. “What?”
Goddamn it. No. He couldn’t do this. Couldn’t get her involved. Again. It’d be worse than foolhardy.
“Um…hello?”
Tuning out Lex, Jerrick paced a new path on the floor. Then again, she’s already involved. Big time. And gods knew there was no one else he could trust beyond Avi. Plus it’d give him the additional cover of being able to protect her without her knowing it. If they were working together, he wouldn’t have to resort to surveilling her from a distance.
You’d be able to touch her all you wanted, while she’s wearing skimpy bondage outfits. He stopped dead in his tracks, the image implanted in his mind tantalizing as fuck.
“Why are you ignoring me?” Lex groused.
She won’t go for it. No damn way. Not after everything that happened.
A shrill whistle splintered through Jerrick’s mental haze, and he gaped at Lex. Strangely enough, he’d forgotten the man’s presence. Avily tended to have that effect on his brain, whether he’d mentally dressed her in bondage wear or not.
“I might have come up with a possible volunteer.” He grunted at the word choice. Volunteer? When it came to him, the only job she’d likely volunteer for would be knocking him out with a steel pipe.
“Fantastic! Let’s go ask her.” Lex catapulted from the bed and hustled toward the doorway.
“Best if I go talk to her alone.” He definitely didn’t need Lex witnessing the hissy fit Avily was likely to throw…and that’d be before Jerrick even got around to telling her about the bondage gear.
“But what if the bad guys come looking for me?” Lex’s bottom lip quivered.
“Oh for shit’s sake.” Jerrick snatched his jacket from the bedpost. “Come on.”
Chapter Four
Downtown Tul’dea was bursting at the seams with thousands of Amora Moon spectators. Finding a parking spot required skill, dumb luck and an endless supply of patience. Counting himself lucky for possessing two out of three, Jerrick pushed the door of his vintage Air Racer open and glanced at Lex. “You done primping?”
Lex gave a final attempt at combing his thinning hair over his bald spot. Once he’d finished the task and unclipped his seat harness, he moseyed out of the vehicle, dropped his comb and wasted three more minutes trying to fish it from behind the Air Racer’s tire without dirtying the knees of his trousers. He jumped to his feet and held the comb aloft like it was one of the lost scrolls of Saurton. “Got it!”
“Fantastic. Can we go now, before my beard reaches my damn ankles?”
“What do you mean? You don’t have a…” Lex’s frown morphed into a megawatt smile. “Oh, I get it. That’s sarcasm, isn’t it? Calliope, my cousin, she’s a real whiz when it comes to sarcasm and off-color jokes. Why one time she told this real doozey involving a porcupine, a fairy and a hibernating bear. Or was it a porcupine, two fairies and a hibernating bear? Oh drats, did I screw up the punch line?”
Jerrick aimed the security remote at his Air Racer and activated the locks, wishing with everything inside him that he could do the same to Lex’s mouth. His boot heels clomped on the pavement, the sound bouncing off the underground garage’s thick stone walls.