Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 85228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
That seems to be the theme of my life.
My new job with Cerberus is no different than the one I left before working for ICE.
People always blur together, nothing special about any of them.
Of course, my luck runs out when I'm assigned to an establishment that caters to peoples' deepest fantasies.
There should be nothing special about the woman. Her lack of clothes is no different than most of the other people there.
Her eyes following me isn't new. People tend to look in my direction when I walk into a room.
Yet, I find myself incapable of looking away from her.
I never expected the woman strapped to the cross to also be the children's counselor who shows up to help a teammate's son.
It would be my luck that the one woman who made me look twice is also off-limits
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Prologue
Jersey
I'd think many years of working in the shadows and staying on the edge of existence would ensure I grew accustomed to low-lit settings, but more often than not, all it does is give me a headache. It's a combination of my body's insistence to get up early no matter how late I stay up the night before and the pulse of the music flowing through speakers hidden all over the dark room. Whatever is causing the pain is just proof that I'm clearly no longer in my prime, and that might be the hardest pill of all to swallow.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, rolling my head in a circular motion, attempting to ease the tension in my shoulders. My left trapezoid has had a fairly significant burn in it for the last couple of days. Even with everything that's going on around me, I can't seem to stop focusing on it. I don't know if the distraction is from boredom or if the pain is more significant than I want to consider.
"Can I refresh your drink?"
I look up at the woman and although I don't feel it, I give her a simple smile. Flirting comes easily for me, and it always has.
Maybe most men in my situation would get an eyeful. Why else would she be fully naked in a sex club, wearing only a collar attached to a slinky belly chain? She's there to look at. Touching is off the table, but I'd never attempt it. I don't even want to. The lack of temptation I feel is one of the reasons I'm probably the perfect guy for a job like this.
I stopped internalizing how I felt or the lack of feelings I had about women long ago. I know exactly what's wrong with me, why an obviously pretty woman doesn't do a damn thing for me.
Instead of letting my eyes rake down the length of her luscious body, I keep my eyes locked on hers. Just as I assumed it would, the lack of attention to her body causes her more unease than if I had sat here salivating or lusting after her. It's not something she's used to. Her body doesn't distract me, and it seems that's not something she encounters often here.
"I think this one is fine," I tell her with another quick smile as I lift the drink in my hand and make an effort to take a sip. "Thank you."
"Let me know if you need anything," she says before scurrying away, glancing over her shoulder just before slipping into the darkness. Her reaction makes me wonder if she's worried I'll chase after her, despite the rules in place. It makes me wonder if she's often victimized, even though her job description says she won't have to endure such things.
There is no telling what happens to people here against their will, and that's the main reason why I'm sitting on this sofa observing.
My goal tonight is not to make anyone feel uncomfortable. I'm not here for entertainment purposes.
This is work, a job I was handed by my boss, Hemlock, the president of the Gatlinburg chapter of the Cerberus MC. A club I've only been a member of for a few short weeks. I'm sure Hemlock has read my file, but he hasn't cornered me and demanded the details.
I have no plans to offer up information on my past, but Kincaid, the president of the founding chapter of Cerberus back in New Mexico, had to ask the questions when I was being vetted for the organization. Going in, I knew I'd have to discuss every life experience, even the things that happened while I was working for ICE. What I didn't realize was how painful it would be to talk about those things, considering I've avoided that conversation for so long.
I clear my throat and take another sip of my drink, although I feel like slamming it back to numb that part of me that is threatening to come back to life.
I'm here to find signs of trafficked women or determine if people who work at the club might have a less-than-legal side menu that caters to more than just your run-of-the-mill BDSM activities.
We've sat on this club once before, and although we didn't find any trafficking, we were able to get the owner arrested on tax evasion. The club was down for less than a week before someone else bought it and reopened for business.
So here I am once again.
I blow a puff of air past my lips, letting it inflate my cheeks before allowing it to escape. I'm just... bored.
Maybe one of the other guys would have a better time here. I can count several women who would love to try to wipe the sneer off Nyx's face, and I spotted one pixie-like thing who looked like she would give our ginger giant Zeus a run for his money.