The Darkest Kink, page 4
I close the door and lean against it, arms crossed. “So how can I help you?”
“Sir, have you ever heard of The Black Collar? It’s a … club … of sorts, in Center City.”
This is it. They’re going to question me about Sierra. It’s really happening. Oh god.
Keep it cool. Don’t panic or freak out. Breathe deeply and take your time. If you don’t give them anything, they won’t have anything. They’re casting a reel and hoping to catch something. Don’t fucking bite.
Listening to the voice in my head, I clear my throat and stand up straight. Detective Monroe watches me closely, her eyes never leaving my face.
“Yeah, I’ve been to The Black Collar,” I answer honestly because I know they already have that information. Lying about it would only confirm any suspicions they have. “I go there often actually. Why?”
“Were you there this past weekend?” Detective Winter asks.
I nod nonchalantly. “Yeah. Like I said, I go there often.”
“Because you’re a VIP member, right?” Winter asks, but there’s something in his voice that I don’t like. Something accusatory and disgusted.
“That’s right,” I answer, doing my best not to glare at him the way I want to. It’s clear they’ve looked into the club, so I have to play this right or it could go very badly.
“While you were at the club this weekend,” Winter continues, “were you with a woman by the name of Sierra Cross?”
“Not exactly,” I reply.
Winter’s eyes widen like he just caught me slipping. “Oh really?”
“Well, we didn’t show up together, but we did leave together. I didn’t know her before that night.” Winter’s eyes go back to their annoying, narrow state. “Why do you ask?”
He lets out a sigh and rolls his shoulders back, sticking out his chest. “I’ll cut to the chase, Mr. Godric. We got a call last night about a missing person. Sierra Cross’s family put in that call and told us they were worried something had happened to her. They also told us that she’s a bit of a wild child who likes to spend her time frequenting a new club in the city … a BDSM club that has a reputation and rumors of pretty interesting things happening behind their doors. My partner and I visited the establishment this morning and spoke to Nolan Carter, the owner. Nice guy, clearly into some freaky shit, but still nice. He was kind enough to show us surveillance footage of the night Sierra’s family says she went to the club but never came home. Upon viewing the footage, we found Sierra in the VIP section, and we saw that she left with someone. We checked with the doorman and double crossed his information with the registry on his tablet and found the name and address of the man seen leaving with Sierra. That’s you. Evan Godric. So as of right now, you’re the last person confirmed to have seen Sierra Cross alive. Can you believe that?”
He's becoming arrogant now, watching how I’ll react to this news. Will I be shocked? Will I be terrified? Will I be nonchalant? How does a guilty man look when he learns that the cops are hot on his trail? I have four eyes staring into the depths of my soul, searching for the answers to all of those questions.
Don’t panic. Admit to what they already know and deny anything they don’t. Don’t admit to anything they don’t have evidence for.
I nod, agreeing with my inner voice before looking both shocked and confused. “Wow. That’s insane. I mean, I did leave the club with Sierra, and I can admit that we left with the intention of coming back here to have sex. However, we never made it back here.”
“Is that right?” Winter asks with a voice intentionally designed to let me know he thinks I’m full of it.
“Yes, it is,” I reply. “I don’t really want to get into it with someone who clearly doesn’t like what happens at The Black Collar, but on our way here we started talking. When Sierra first approached me, I think she was a little intoxicated, but she sobered up on the drive here. We started talking about our roles and came to the conclusion that we needed to do more vetting before going forward with any scenes.”
Suddenly, Detective Monroe clears her throat and finally speaks. “You needed to do more vetting?”
I turn to her, surprised that she has decided to enter the chat. Her lips are beautifully full, her voice is smooth and soft, the polar opposite of Detective Winter. I don’t know why I expected her to sound as abrasive as he does, but I was wrong. She's the night to his day. A voice like that could never play the bad cop.
“Yes,” I reply. “In the BDSM lifestyle, it’s important that we vet each other thoroughly. There are a lot of different interests out there, and anyone who has been in the lifestyle for a while knows how crucial it is to vet and make sure you’re dealing with good, trustworthy people. What Sierra and I experienced was lust at first sight, and we concluded that our experiences together would be better if we learned about each other more before engaging in a scene.”
Detective Monroe looks at me with unmoving eyes that are focused on me like I'm the only one standing with her. She scans me, looking at me from head to toe and back.
“Which of you decided there needed to be more vetting?” she asks, suddenly intensely interested in the details.
“We both did. So she either texted a friend or ordered an Uber while we were still driving,” I continue to lie confidently. “We did some minor vetting on the way, and her ride arrived just a minute or two after we did.”
“Was it a friend or an Uber?” Winter asks.
“I’m not sure. All I know is that she secured a ride.”
“Why not just turn around and take her back to the sex club?” he asks with a growing attitude.
Detective Monroe cuts her eyes over to her partner, seemingly triggered by the wording of the question the same way I am.
“We were already over halfway here when the decision was made,” I answer. “I offered to take her back myself, but she made up her mind that she’d made the wrong decision by leaving the club with me and wanted to do what was quicker. We got here around the same time as her ride, and she got out of my car and into that one.”
“Did you exchange numbers?” Winter asks.
“No. We just planned to meet at the club again at a later date.”
“And what date was that?” he goes on, prodding further, looking for holes in my story.
“This Friday,” I lie again. “We’d see each other at the club and sit down amongst other people in the lifestyle and take our time vetting. If things went well, we’d slip into one of the VIP rooms and go from there.”
Detective Winter plasters on a fake smile. “How convenient. You didn’t exchange numbers and she never stepped foot in the house.”
“It’s not convenient. It’s the truth,” I respond.
A tense moment of silence passes between the three of us before Detective Monroe asks, “How long have you been a VIP member of the club?”
“A little over a year now,” I answer truthfully because the information is verifiable.
“Have you ever seen Sierra Cross there before?” Monroe asks.
“No, but the place is fairly large and people come and go. You could frequent the club as often as I do and never notice certain people. So if she was there, I never saw her.”
The two detectives glance at each other, performing some unspoken communication that I wish I could read. Am I a suspect now? No matter what story I weave, I’m still the last person to see Sierra alive as far as they know, and I don’t know if they can verify that she actually did or didn’t call an Uber. I gave myself some leeway by saying she may have had a friend come pick her up just in case the Uber story doesn’t hold up. But even with all of that, do they still have enough to be suspicious of me? Time will tell.
“Okay, Mr. Godric,” Detective Winter says after a breath. He hands me a card with his information on it. “If you remember anything else, be sure to give me a call. We’ll come right out. In the meantime, do us a favor and don’t go far. Something tells me we’re going to be seeing each other again.”
I take the card and nod. “That’s fine with me, Detective. I have nothing to hide.”
He glares at me. “Okay.” Then he’s down the steps and walking toward their car.
“Have a good night, Evan,” Detective Monroe says as she follows her partner.
Her eyes linger longer than what’s necessary, but not in the same way Winter’s did. Monroe’s eyes aren’t suspicious. They’re curious. About what, I don’t know. But as I watch her drop into the passenger seat, the beast in me stirs.
She’s not the only one who’s curious.
chapter six
“Let me get a Hennessy and Coke. Make it a double,” Trey says as he sits down at the bar at Larry’s Tavern. The blonde bartender smiles at him and nods before silently turning to me.
“I’ll take a Bud Light,” I tell her.
The lights in the place are dim, and music hums quietly like background noise of the bar. It’s a fairly small spot but it’s popular. The dance floor is its featured piece with the bar coming in a close second, with its black and purple lights illuminating the bartender. Opposite the bar are a few scattered tables where people can sit and eat delicious food from the menu, and every table is occupied tonight. It’s mostly men, as usual, but there are a few women here and there, soaking up tons of eye contact from the guys in the place who are here for a hookup of some sort with whoever is willing to give them the time of day. Trey and I make ourselves comfortable in the last two seats at the bar, and nod as a song comes on that we both recognize.
The bartender flashes a polite smile at me and scurries off to grab our drinks. When she brings them back, Trey pays for both with cash, telling her to keep the change. As she walks to the other side of the bar, I watch her go. The night is just beginning, and the beast in me is already waking up. It hasn’t been that long since the night with Sierra, but it has never taken much time for the beast to become hungry again, which puts me in a really tough spot. The cops were just at my door last night, so this isn't the time for the beast to start growling in my ear. It will just have to wait until all of this blows over. I can make it wait. I can.
I can't—
“Today was another good day at the site, Evan,” Trey says, cutting off my thoughts at just the right time. “I’ve been watching you lately, bro, and you’ve turned it around since the incident with the fire blocks.”
“Yeah? Thanks for noticing,” I reply, lifting my beer to my lips. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Cain off my back.”
Trey sips his cocktail. “I feel you. Out of all the people they could've promoted to project manager, it just had to be the biggest asshole at the company. Lane Contracting is a trip. Not to toot my own horn, but that job should've been mine. We’d be ahead of schedule right now, I’ll tell you that.”
“I’m sure you're right,” I answer. “Cain spends so much time trying to talk to people that he doesn't realize he’s slowing down his project.”
“But if you get caught doing anything other than your exact job he’s ready to blow a gasket. It’s hypocritical as hell.”
“Reminds me of my mom,” I say.
My eyes drop down to the cold glass of beer in my hands as I remember my mother getting onto me about something I can't even remember doing. All I remember is how she went from talking to me to punching me in my chest for not responding fast enough.
“Yeah? That sucks, man. Unfortunately, I had a tough mom, too. She seemed to have a problem with the fact that my brother and I were suddenly taller than her when we became teenagers. It was like it scared her and she needed to make sure we never thought about using our size against her, which is fucking ridiculous because we’re her sons. We would’ve never thought to raise a hand to her, but she imagined that we would and used that imaginary thing as justification for hitting us. I really caught the brunt of it when my brother moved out of the house. Something about his departure did something to her and she just started taking it up a notch. Parents don't realize that kids don't ever forget that kind of shit. Not ever.”
I nod along, agreeing with everything Trey is saying. It sucks to relate to someone in this way, but I do. I remember the day I realized I had something dark inside of me. It was after my mother had punched me in the face over and over again because I’d turned down her offer of McDonald’s. I guess she thought I should've accepted or something, but we were already close to being home and I didn't want her to have to turn the truck around just to go to the restaurant. She managed to take offense, and before I could have a second thought, I felt the back of her fist slamming into my chest. She started screaming at me about having an attitude, and I ran into the house the second the car was parked to get away from her, but she followed me into my room and landed a straight right to my jaw that made my knees buckle. She kept swinging, and all I could do was cover up until it finally ended.
After she tired herself out, I watched her walk away, panting from the exercise she’d just given herself. As she turned to leave, I started to imagine how satisfying it would be to retaliate and watch her bleed the way she’d just made me bleed. I thought of punching her and watching her skin bruise before my eyes. I thought of choking her, witnessing her face change colors until she stopped moving altogether, and a voice was born inside of me that told me to do it. It told me how much it wanted to hurt her, and it took every ounce of my strength to ignore that voice. Over time, and after I ran away from my mother’s house of horrors, that voice developed into sadism and led me down the path of BDSM. If I didn't hate my mother so much, I would thank her, because the voice is the beast in me. Although it scares me sometimes and takes things too far, I love it.
“Earth to Evan,” Trey says, slicing through my thoughts. “You good, man?”
“Oh, yeah I’m good. Sorry. I get trapped in my own thoughts sometimes.”
“You’re an interesting dude, Evan,” he says. “I don't think I know enough about you. Tell me a little about yourself. What do you like to do for fun?”
Tie submissives up and do whatever it takes to make their skin change colors.
“Umm, nothing too crazy,” I reply, ignoring the beast. “I’m a homebody. Usually pretty introverted. I like movies and good shows. Music. I like to read books sometimes—mostly Nasir Booker, Pepper Winters, Sierra Simone, or Isabel Lucero. I’m pretty quiet. I guess you can blame my mother for that.”
Trey nods, taking another swig of his drink. “Okay, so you're probably smarter than most of the people we work with. You dating anybody?”
I press my lips into a thin line, shaking my head. “Nah, not at the moment.”
“For real? Why not? You're a good looking dude. I caught two women looking at you as soon as we walked in here. If you went out more I bet you’d clean up. In fact, there’s a woman sitting at that table behind you that has been staring since we walked in.”
“Is that right?” I chuckle as I turn around to find who Trey is referring to.
I scan a few tables that are filled with men before finding one that has two women. One is a blonde who has her back to me, and the other is a brunette with full lips and hair past her shoulders. She has a dimple in her chin and a starry gaze in her eyes as she stares right at me with one eyebrow raised. Her hair cascades down the left side of her chest as she leans back in her seat, all confidence. We make eye contact and my breath catches in my throat. I spin back around, but a trap door opens beneath my barstool and I feel myself falling through the floor in terror.
“Don't be so obvious, bro,” Trey says, but his voice sounds distant. I can barely hear him through the sound of blood rushing through my ears. “Man, she’s been staring so hard. She’s probably just waiting for me to go to the bathroom or something so she can come over here and talk to you. Hell, she’s still watching you. Damn … Evan, you good?”
I swallow hard, trying my best not to make it obvious that I’m freaking out.
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I’m good—could probably use another drink.” I flag down the bartender and order another beer, gulping down half of it the second it hits my hands.
“Cool, well luckily for you, I actually do have to take a piss,” Trey says.
My head snaps over to him. “What? No. Don't leave right now.”
Trey smiles, taking my panic for innocent anxiety. “Relax, bro. Let’s just see if she comes to talk to you. You’ve gotta let your guard down, Evan. Have a little fun. Enjoy life. I’ll go and come right back. If she comes to talk to you, I’ll fall back and let you do your thing. If not, I’ll sit back down and we’ll have a couple more drinks before we call it a night. Nothing to it. Cool?”
I shake my head, my eyes wide. “I don't know, man. Maybe we should just go.”
“Wow, you are wound tight as fuck. Look, if you wanna leave, we can. But I gotta go pee first. So just chill here for a second and I’ll be right back.”
“Trey,” I whisper, but he’s out of his seat and patting me on the back as he walks behind me on his way to find the bathroom.
I don't turn around. I don't want to make eye contact with her again, and most definitely don't want her coming over here to talk to me. Maybe I should just leave right now. Trey and I drove in separate cars, so it’s not like I’d be leaving him without a ride. I could explain when we’re back at work tomorrow. I could say I had a stomach bug or something. He’d understand. Yeah, that’s it. I’m going to go while he’s in the bathroom and deal with the rest later. I’m going. I chug the rest of my beer and start to get out of my seat.
“You’re not leaving, are you?” a soft, sultry voice asks from behind me.
I freeze, my skin suddenly rigid as the hair on my neck stands and my heart pumps with fear and adrenaline. It takes a moment for my brain to remember how to tell my body to move again, and when I manage to turn around, I’m greeted with a beautiful grinning face.
