Nothing In Common, Except ...

by Edward Kendrick

  “Unless you’re planning on being late to work, we’re out of here for now.”

  “It’s that late?” Brax glanced at the time. “I guess it is. Okay. Meet here again this evening?”

  “Unless you want to go to dinner, first.”

  “Sure.” Brax grinned. “Gets me out of cooking, again.”

  “Like you’ve done that much of it while I’ve been here.”

  “I made our magnificent breakfast.”

  Kyle rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh. Filling, yeah. Magnificent? Um…no.”

  “So I over-stated it a bit,” Brax replied as he checked to be certain he had everything he needed. “What are you going to do to kill the day?”

  “I’ll think of something. Maybe catch up on the sleep I missed last night.”

  “That works.”

  Brax let them out of the apartment, set the security, locked the door, then when they got to the ground floor, they went their separate ways.

  * * * *

  Kyle returned to the hotel, where he slept until noon. Then he decided to pay a visit to Connoisseurs. Despite what he’d said to Brax earlier, there was no reason for him to play keep-away from the bordello. He’d never met Russo—or Eliot Russell as he’d called himself when he’d destroyed Nichole and Tomas. If Kyle had known what was going on when it happened, he might have tried to kill Russo then and there. But by the time he’d found out about it, it was too late—or so he’d thought. Now, he knew better and wanted to see the bastard shifter in person, before dealing with him one way or another.

  Okay. Not in person. Not yet. I would like to get a good look at his stomping grounds, however. A better look than what I’ve gotten so far from the Connoisseurs website.

  Prior to going out to the bordello, however, he needed to take a look at the website again, to choose a safe place to land when he teleported in. There was no way he was going to drive up to the gates, where he’d have to show the guards his driver’s license so they could scan it into their system. Even if he used one his alternative ones, it would still have his face on it, and he wasn’t about to chance that Russo might know what he looked like—as slim as that might be.

  He studied the photo of the front of the mansion, wondering if he could land at the edge of the veranda then walk inside as if he had left his car in the parking lot. The only problem with doing that was, he didn’t know if they would want to see his ID when he went inside, despite the fact the guards would have checked it as he came through the gates.

  He found two photos of the bar. It was large, with a lounge area that made him think of gentleman’s clubs he’d seen in movies—except this one had scantily dressed women in attendance to entertain the guests. It was dimly lit, so he hoped if he landed in what appeared to be a decorative alcove that he saw in one of the pictures—set off from the main room by pulled-back drapes—no one would realize he hadn’t been in the bar all along.

  Most men in the photos were dressed casually in slacks and button-down or turtle-necked shirts, although a couple of them were wearing suits. Using that as his criteria, and given the fact it was early afternoon, Kyle put on a pair of gray slacks and a dark blue shirt. He would carry the same ID he’d used to rent his car and the hotel room, just in case of trouble. Not that he anticipated he’d run into any. As long as I can tactfully avoid any of the women who offer me their ‘services.’

  After checking how he looked in the dresser mirror, he brought up the image of where he’d land—and seconds later he was there.

  Stepping out from between the drapes, he surveyed the bar. There were a few men, all of them paired up with one or more of the women who worked for the bordello. No one seemed to be aware of his presence—or if they were, they were too involved to care.

  Kyle walked confidently across the room to the hallway outside the bar. Across from him, through a wide arch, he saw what the website had called ‘the parlor.’ The three women who were lounging on sofas glanced at him, one of them beckoning for him to join her. He smiled, holding up one finger to let her know he would in a moment, then gestured down the hallway.

  He continued to walk toward the wide stairway at the end, passing several closed doors on the way. A sign on one said Sauna. He took a look inside, and found it empty at the moment. Another sign said Manager and Kyle wondered if that was Russo’s office. He opened the door enough to see a woman seated at a desk across what looked like a waiting room. She looked up from what she was doing, asking, “May I help you?”

  “I’m looking for a restroom.”

  “There’s one in the bar.”

  “Thanks. I guess I missed it,” Kyle replied with an apologetic smile, backing up, then closing the door before continuing down the hallway to the stairs. At least I’ve got a visual, if that is his office suite.

  At the top of the stairs was a long hallway running the width of the mansion, with two more crossing it, one at each end. He’s got to be making a fortune if all the rooms are used every night—probably more than once. Given how many there were, it was a logical conclusion that the bordello was raking it in.

  A woman stepped into the hallway, asking with a seductive smile, “Are you looking for me?”

  If I was into women, I might be. She’s not bad looking. He shook his head, replying, “I was trying to find the men’s room. If there’s one downstairs…” He shrugged.

  She laughed. “Apparently you didn’t look too hard. There are two down there—one in the bar, one next to the parlor.”

  “Thanks.” He waited until she went back into her room before continuing down to one of the cross-hallways. There was another flight of stairs at the end of it, going up—carpeted, with an ornate handrail. At the top he saw a closed door. When he got to it, he noted the sign saying, Private. Entrance by invitation only. The playrooms? He figured that was the case, since the Connoisseurs website had mentioned them. He tested the handle. The door was locked, and without a visual, there was no way he could get past it. Turning, he started down the stairs.

  * * * *

  Brax was just finishing his meeting with Mr. Werner, a new client, at Werner’s place of business, when his cell vibrated. He took it out, with an apologetic, “Probably my partner,” to check the Caller ID. It was from Caleb, so he texted, I call when I’m finished here. Caleb instantly texted back, Get your ass over here now.

  Pocketing the phone, Brax stood, picking up the folder with the contract and the information he needed to begin setting up security on Werner’s business. “I’m sorry. I need to run. An emergency. I’ll be back on Monday, at ten, to start putting everything in place.” They shook hands then Brax quickly left. When he was in the elevator, he teleported to Caleb’s office.

  “What’s going on,” he asked Caleb as soon as he landed.

  “I had a visitor, although I didn’t see him. He left something, or rather, someone.” He pointed to the sofa at the far end of the room. “I found him when I came in from the warehouse.”

  “What the fucking hell?”

  Kyle was lying on the sofa, and it was obvious someone had done a number on him. His face and naked torso were covered with bruises and cuts. Brax was beside him instantly, kneeling to lift one eyelid. “Drugged,” he muttered, which explained why Kyle hadn’t transported away from wherever he’d been. Before he was…tortured, because from the look of it, that’s what happened.

  “There was a note, and this,” Caleb said, handing Brax a sheet of paper with Caleb’s business card stapled to it. The note was brief and to the point. Keep your nose out of my business or someone will die, followed by one initial, R.

  “How could you be so stupid?” Brax said, gently touching Kyle’s bruised cheek.

  “I presume the R stands for Russo,” Caleb said. “But why is Mr. Roberts involved?”

  “Long story,” Brax replied, then proceeded to tell him, pacing the office as he did. “We got the blackmail negatives on Frye, and three other men,” he said in conclusion. “I was going to bring you Frye’s toni
ght, and send the rest to the other victims.”

  “Brax…” Caleb shook his head. “How the hell…No, why the hell did you involve Mr. Grayson in this?”

  “As I said, he’s got good reason to hate Russo, too. When he volunteered, I accepted. Don’t worry. He doesn’t know anything about…” He glanced at Kyle to make certain he was still unconscious. He appeared to be, but that didn’t stop Brax from couching his reply enigmatically. “About anything, other than that I’m the one who installed your security.”

  “Still not…copping…to it,” Kyle said, his words so soft they were barely discernable.

  Brax hurried to him, kneeling again to ask, “How are you feeling? Okay, stupid question.”

  Kyle’s battered lips turned up in a semblance of a smile. “Like someone, okay, Russo, decided I’d make a good punching bag, with the added attraction of a nice victim for some knife play.” He groaned, trying to sit up. Against his better judgment, Brax helped him. “Whatever he shot me up with,” Kyle said, “kept me from moving or getting away. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop me feeling everything the bastard did to me.”

  “Does he know who you are?”

  “Only what it says in the ID I was carrying, which obviously isn’t in my name. I think going back to the hotel is a no-go at this point. The same with using my car.”

  Brax growled, saying, “It’s a damned good thing Caleb’s office is sound- and bug-proof. But you’re not leaving here until I check to be sure the bastard didn’t plant something on you. I’ll be right back.”

  He was, two minutes later, with a scanner that would tell him if Kyle had been bugged. “Got you,” he muttered, removing Kyle’s right shoe. The tracking bug was hidden under the insole. Brax took it out, tossing it in Caleb’s wastebasket. “When you empty it into the dumpster, it will end up in some landfill. That should throw Russo off.” He returned his attention to Kyle, asking, “Does Russo know you’re a shifter?”

  “Of course. You know we can sense when someone is. On top of that, what you see here—” he touched one of the knife cuts “—would have clued him in. This is nothing compared to what it was when he inflicted it. He saw the first one begin to heal, and made damned good and sure the rest were a lot deeper and longer.”

  “I wonder if he thinks I’m a shifter, too,” Caleb said. “He obviously believes you’re working for me, from the note.” When Kyle asked, Caleb showed it to him.

  “He might suspect you are,” Kyle replied. “I guess I should be glad the drug he used kept me from being able to talk. Not that I’d have told him anything.” He grimaced. “I hope.”

  “Stupid on his part,” Brax said.

  “It was the only way he could keep me there while he had his fun,” Kyle pointed out.

  “Yeah,” Brax agreed, his mouth tightening in anger, as it had several times since he’d first seen Kyle on the sofa. I’ll kill the bastard. If it’s the last thing I do, I will. It took him only a second to realize why he felt so strongly about what had happened. Because it was Kyle he did this to. He didn’t deserve it. Him, most of all. And I dragged him into it. This is my fault. He took a deep breath, then said, “All right. The first thing we’re doing is getting you to a safe place,” he told Kyle.

  “Meaning where? Your place?”

  “Yep. Caleb, keep the security on here, and at your house, twenty-four-seven. He probably doesn’t know where you live, but there’s no sense taking a chance. He could find out, if he wanted to.”

  “He couldn’t get inside. I keep the drapes drawn, so he’d have no visual.”

  “Famous last words, and you know it,” Brax replied dryly. “If you’re ready,” he said to Kyle. Kyle nodded, then both of them vanished from Caleb’s office.

  * * * *

  “Have a seat, while I make certain there are sheets on the bed in the guestroom,” Brax said when they landed in his apartment. “I never have company, so…”

  Kyle slumped on the sofa, deciding as he did that Brax must have meant family and casual friends. He doesn’t strike me as the sort of man who would be celibate. Far from it, although I suspect any liaisons would be for a night or a couple of days at the most. Kyle couldn’t put his finger on why he thought that, but he did.

  Brax returned to tell Kyle that he should get to bed and finish healing. “But first,” he continued, looking down at him, “How the hell did you manage to get caught? And why, by all that’s holy, were you at Connoisseurs to begin with?”

  “Checking it out,” Kyle told him. “I figured we should know what’s where when we decide to go after the bastard. Parts that aren’t shown on the website.”

  “Did you find anything?”

  “There’s a manager’s office on the ground floor, which might also be Russo’s office—or not. Hard to tell, but I did get a look the waiting area. The second floor is where the ladies work. A lot of ladies, if each doorway is for a private room. There’s also something on the third floor, but I didn’t get to see what. The door at the top is marked, Private, entrance by invitation only. I suspect that may be where some of the playrooms are.”

  “What about in the basement?” Brax asked.

  “Funny you should mention that.” Kyle grimaced. “There’s a very well-equipped dungeon, as I found out, much to my regret. Not that I was in it voluntarily. I was on my way down the stairs from the third floor when I heard the door open. Before I could turn to see who was there, I was Tasered and went down the rest of the stairs on my ass and back. He hit me with another charge and that’s all I remember before coming to in the dungeon. I couldn’t do anything when I did.” He shuddered. “Like I said, I was drugged and immobile. Somewhere along the line, while Russo was having his fun with me, I passed out from the pain. How he got me to Caleb’s office is anyone’s guess.”

  “Probably picked the image from your mind, since he checked your wallet and found Caleb’s business card, I presume. Did he ask you about it?”

  “Not that I remember.” Kyle scrubbed a hand through his hair, muttering, “As soon as I’m back to normal, I’m going to pay Russo a visit and return the favor.”

  “Then go get some sleep,” Brax told him, offering his hand to help Kyle get up. When they got to the guestroom, Brax pointed out the en suite bathroom, then left, closing the door behind him.

  Kyle stripped out of his remaining clothes, letting them fall where he stood, before going into the bathroom to wash away the dried blood. Then, exhausted, he collapsed on the bed, pulled the sheet up, and instantly fell asleep.

  * * * *

  With Kyle safely in bed and sleeping, Brax made a quick trip back to the office to let Judd know they had a signed contract from Mr. Werner, and to file the paperwork.

  Since it was after five-thirty by that time, Brax told Judd he’d return calls from two existing clients first thing Monday morning.

  “We had an inquiry about installing a security system from a Mr.—” Judd checked his notes “—Russell, Eliot Russell, on his new business. Do you want me to talk with him, since it looks like you’ll be busy most of the day Monday?”

  “Did he ask for you or me by name?” Brax replied, hiding his dismay. Is the name just a coincidence? That was Russo’s last alias, before he came out here.

  “No. He said he’d done a search online and we were one of several agencies he planned on checking out before making a final decision.”

  “Okay. Yeah, why don’t you deal with him?”

  “Will do.”

  “Anything else I should know about?”

  Judd grinned. “Ms. Conway sent a list of people she wants you to run background checks on.”

  Brax groaned, although he didn’t really mind doing that—too much. “I’ll get on it after I’ve finished at Werner’s. Right now, I’m going home and see if I’ve got something edible for dinner. The joys of bachelorhood.”

  With a laugh, Judd agreed.

  The first thing Brax did when he got back to his apartment was check on Kyle. Not because he was
concerned about his physical condition. Kyle was, after all, a shifter and would—in fact already was—well on his way to being fully healed. The bruises on his face, now barely visible, were testament to that. It was his mental condition that worried Brax. It appeared as if Kyle had been sleeping calmly, but…You don’t take the kind of treatment Russo doled out to him and pass it off as if it was nothing.

  Leaving the door to the guestroom open, so that he’d hear him if Kyle had a nightmare, Brax went into the kitchen to make something to eat for supper. He wasn’t in the mood to cook, so he ended up putting together a sandwich which he took into his office to eat, along with a cup coffee.

  Booting up his computer, he ran a search on the name Eliot Russell. He only found three in the city, none of whom fit the parameters he was looking for. One was a teen, and the other two worked for large companies, meaning they wouldn’t be looking for someone to install a security system. Expanding his search on the two adults only confirmed his thoughts that neither of them was the Eliot Russell that Judd had talked to.

  Why use that alias again? Doesn’t he realize I’d recognize it? And so would Kyle. Of course he might not know who Kyle is, other than a shifter who was being too nosy, as far at Russo’s concerned—and that he’s connected to another shifter who, if Russo’s done his research by now, he might figure is the middleman in an art theft ring. Brax chortled softly. If he thinks Kyle’s a thief….

  Then he sobered. As far as my knowing that Russell and Russo are the same man, there’s no way he could figure Braxton O’Hara is the same guy who stopped him from stealing trade secrets back when. Not if the phone call means he’s trying to find out who might have broken into his house. Like Kyle said, he might have spotted me on my way to the preserve, and followed me, but that’s it. I hope. So he uses the Russell alias because it’s handy. Sloppy, or lazy, on his part.

  Shutting down his computer, Brax went to check on Kyle again. He found him awake, one arm behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. From the expression on his face, Brax had the feeling it wasn’t the ceiling he was seeing.