He turned and crashed someone else. The bear in the red shirt. The one who worked there and ushered him into the party. Mitch’s champagne sloshed in his glass, but none spilled. Mitch’s instincts twitched, as the two men stood chest-to-chest, eying each other through gold masks. Each of them waiting for the other to move aside. Soon, the bear twitched his head, and stepped aside, walking past Mitch, knocking his shoulder in a sure sign of aggression. Mitch thought it curious, and turned to watch the man move throughout the crowd. He took another quick look around the room. There was no sign of the woman.
“Oh well,” he muttered to himself into his glass, before draining it. She had been a nice distraction, but it was time to get down to business. He put the empty glass on a nearby table and headed off in the direction the bear had gone. Thankfully, that brute of a man was not as hard to track. His masked visage loomed over the crowd, weaving curiously through the throngs, making loops, nudging into people as he passed through. Mitch found it puzzling. Something definitely did not feel right about him, or the way the man was gliding through the crowd.
He followed behind at a discreet distance, following the man. Mitch stopped, and took a deep breath. Something wasn’t right. The music bumped, and the way the bass beat thrummed through his body. It felt like he was standing next to a large speaker, but a quick look around told him he was not. Mitch felt his skin tingle, and then warm pleasantly. His pulse quickened, and he could hear the blood as it rushed past his ears.
As he looked around in the dull light, his vision was blurred. He blinked quickly, in an attempt to dispel it. It didn’t work. He took a deep, calming breath, felt himself stumble slightly, and put a hand on a nearby wall to steady himself. He didn’t feel right, but he didn’t feel bad, as a pleasant glow surrounded him. He was high. He looked at his empty champagne glass, thought of the man in the bear mask, and the realization dawned on him. The damn bear had drugged him.
“Son of a bitch,” Mitch spat out, trying with all his might to focus his attention of finding him in the crowd. The man’s weaving through the crowd finally made sense. He was dosing the guests with some substance.
Mitch came away from the wall and rejoined the crowd. His periphery was blurred, and the multi-coloured strobe lights help. Every time someone brushed against him, it caused ripples of pleasure to rush throughout him. Mitch focussed on taking deep breaths and getting across the room. He tried to clear his head by recounting everything he knew about MDMA, one of the drugs that had been found in each of the victim’s – heightened awareness and a sense of euphoria were the primary effects. So was an increased sex drive. And even though he was still trying to find the bear, he couldn’t help but also train his eyes to look for the red dress. Increased sex drive? He chuckled as he thought of the woman behind the cat mask and felt a stirring behind the zipper of his pants. Check to that.
Despite the growing obstruction in his pants, he pushed on, scanning the room for the bear mask. All around him people were dancing, gyrating to the driving beat of the hip hop music that was playing. He dodged flailing limbs and grabbing hands, and then he spotted him again. The bear was parting dark curtains, looking into another room, before disappearing between them. Mitch stalked toward the curtains, following his quarry, but a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned, preparing to pull away, when he saw the woman in the red dress.
“I found you,” she said. “You looked lost again. Do you want to dance?”
Mitch took another look at the curtains the bear had passed through before he turned back to the woman. He knew he should have continued his hunt, but whether it was the woman’s hands on his shoulders or the drug running through his system, he wanted to ignore the job. He sighed loudly. He couldn’t ignore the job. “I’m sorry, kitty cat. But I’ve got to go.”
“You’re not leaving already, are you? What, are you scared?” she challenged him, a frown turning down her lips. She smoothed her hands down his front, they slipped underneath his jacket and it might have been the drugs, but Mitch could swear that just her touch was scorching her skin through his shirt. He had a choice to make. He could either extricate himself from the woman, disappointing her and his dick in the process, or he could just escape with her for a few minutes. What could a few minutes possibly hurt?
“I’m not scared, and I’m going anywhere,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “Not yet anyway.” He didn’t think for a second before wrapping his arms around her slim waist and pulling her to him. He lowered his head and crushed his lips to hers.
The woman’s palms were flat on his chest, but she didn’t push him away. Instead she curled her fingers over his chest, bunching the fabric of his shirt in her fists, pulling him closer before winding her arms over his shoulders.
Mitch kissed the bow of her upper lip, then the corner of her mouth, then he captured her pouty bottom lip between his teeth and nipped lightly. His first taste of her was sweet, intoxicating, and he wanted more, needed more. His tongue delved past her lips and into her mouth, as he heard and felt the moan that rose from her throat, capturing it in his mouth. Not taking his mouth from hers, he walked them to the nearby wall behind her, pinning her against it with his own body, making sure she didn’t miss his rock hard length behind his zipper.
She squirmed against him, and the feeling made him gasp. It must have been the serotonin rush that came along with the drugs that he’d unwittingly ingested. The possibility that she’d been drugged as well occurred to him. He might be feeling the effects, but he wasn’t about to continue knowing that she might be under the influence.
He pulled back, his libido screamed at him in frustration. “Wait.” He said.
The woman’s chest rose with every heavy breath she took. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you feel okay?”
“I was a second ago,” she told him. “What’s going on?”
“You’re not under the influence of anything, are you?”
She shook her head, and dropped her hand to cup him through his pants. “Just two glasses of champagne and you, darlin’,” she assured him. She squeezed him lightly. The shock of her touch reverberated through his body, the pleasure sending a shot of white light to his brain, clouding his vision again. When he looked at her, he only saw the woman inside the halo of golden illumination.
The music of the nightclub-like setting of the room was muted by the sound of his heart beating in his ears, and strobing lights flashed around them, adding to the surreal feeling of having this incredible woman writhe against him, pulling him in to her. With every touch, he felt the electricity on his skin and the charge pulsed throughout his body, underneath his skin. He might have been tripping from a powerful drug, but goddammit, he was sure he only felt her, and she felt so good against him.
He returned his attention to her mouth. Her lips were still red, and he went back for more. As his mouth took hers, pulling her in deeper, he could hear the hard plastic of his mask, clicking against hers. He reached out to lift hers, to remove it and reveal her face, but she stopped him, her fingers covered his.
“Leave it on,” she said.
He nodded, remembering her previous wish of anonymity. He wanted nothing more than to see her, but at that moment he would do anything she told him to. “Okay,” he agreed.
Putting both hands to his waist, he lifted her, revelling in the pleasure of the way her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Pinning her to the wall with his upper body, Mitch ran his hands up her thighs, her bare skin felt better, softer, than anything he’d ever touched in his life. He gripped her ass in his hands, her flesh was firm, and he discovered, she was not wearing any panties. Easy access, he figured. He edged his fingertips further, until he found her. She was bare, and warm and wet, waiting for him. Using his thumb, he circled around her rigid clit before he inserted one finger and then another.
She gave a small cry and tossed her head back against the wall, the muscles of her thighs quiver gripping him his waist live a vice as he touch
ed her. He watched acutely, watching the ay she reacted to his touch, how responsive she was to him, and he didn’t think he’d ever wanted anyone more.
As if by magic, there was a waitress beside him. He took a look at her. He didn’t want a drink at the moment, and he wondered why she would even stop at his side. When he looked down at her tray, however, it all made sense when he saw the offerings of foil-wrapped prophylactics she was holding. He grabbed blindly into the tray, taking a condom. He fumbled with his zipper, lowered his pants a little, and extracted his throbbing, rock hard dick from his pants. In record time, he rolled the condom over his length, and he primed himself at the strange woman’s entrance. Grasping her waist, he raised her against the wall, and then lowered her onto his erection, until she was completely seated in his lap.
She gasped. Her quick intake of breath, raspy and loud in his ear. The feeling of her was so great, so intense, that he dropped his head and groaned into the crook of her neck, before pulling his hips away, withdrawing himself out and then slamming back into her, filling her again. He’d never experienced any pleasure greater than being with her. The combination of the strange, anonymous woman, the crowd of people around them, some watching enviously, was new to him. And while his enhanced feelings could be attributed to the drugs he’d been slipped, it didn’t take away from the pleasure he felt.
Mitch could feel the pleasure rising low in his stomach, as he pumped in and out of her, and the heat of his oncoming orgasm could be felt radiating through his limbs. He knew he would soon come, but it also felt like he could go on with her forever. He felt her clench around him, signalling her own oncoming orgasm, and it was enough for Mitch. She came, and he ground himself against her, finishing as well with a hoarse shout.
Breathing heavily, Mitch gently lowered the woman so she was standing the floor. Her emerald green eyes never left his as she fixed her dress, and he disposed of the used condom and adjusted his own clothing. The people who had gathered around to watch them had dissipated.
He could see the flush that coloured the bottom of her face and her chest. “Well, Mr. Fox,” she smirked. “That was fantastic.”
It sure had been. Mitch felt his head clear a little. His dose must be wearing off. “It was,” he nodded. He realized that he wanted to see her again “Can I get your number?”
Her eyes widened behind her mask. “I don’t know,” she said. “Why don’t you just come back here to see me?”
So she wanted to keep the mystery alive? “Maybe I will,” he told her and leaned in to give her a soft kiss. Her bruised lips cushioned his. “Thanks for the tour,” he said.
“See you around,” she said, turning away from him, and disappearing into the crowd.
Chapter 7
With the cat nowhere to be found, Mitch could now get back to work. She had been a fun distraction and it was too bad that she didn’t want to see him… Well, she didn’t want to see him outside of Leather & Lace. Maybe he would come back some time. Mitch took a deep cleansing breath and despite himself, he could smell her. He inhaled again, pulling her scent deeper. Dammit! He was distracted again. He had to clear his head, and made his way to the curtains where the man with the bear mask had disappeared earlier.
Mitch parted the heavy curtains and he found himself in front of a closed door marked with an employees only sign. He shrugged and went through it anyway, ending up at the end of a long hallway. Outside of the major party rooms, Mitch removed his mask so he could see better, as he moved down the hallway, away from the driving music, flashing lights and gyrating bodies. Halfway down the hallway a new sound was discernable over the noise behind him - a woman crying. It didn’t sound like the blissful cries he would equate with the sexual activities he’d seen that evening. It was sad, pained. Then he heard a masculine yell, one that was menacing and violent. He crouched, and reached for the gun strapped to ankle. He wasn’t going any further without his weapon at the ready.
Mitch followed the sound down a staircase that led to a basement. It was so far removed from the opulence of the party, but he felt right at home in the gritty, dingy room. It was lit by one bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, and he saw that three women were lying on bare, thin mattresses on the dirty floor, and Mitch could tell that they were almost too strung out to hold up their heads. An imposing male figure loomed over them. It was the man who’d worn the bear mask, the one who’d drugged Mitch, was holding a fourth woman by her wrists; the only way she was staying upright. He was yelling at her in a foreign language.
“Hey asshole!” Mitch called out, his gun drawn. “Why don’t you leave the women alone?”
The man released the woman and she fell to the floor. He turned. “Why don’t you mind your own business?” The man responded, in a thick Russian accent. He was no longer wearing his mask and Mitch studied him for a second before recognition struck him. He was Igor Ivanov, a member of Yuri Petrova’s syndicate that was making a push into the city.
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” Mitch shrugged. “You’re under arrest.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know, drugging a cop and many others, assaulting these women, serving a lethal cocktail to trafficked women.” Mitch shrugged. “We’ll make something stick.”
“What’s going on here?”
Mitch whipped around to the sound behind him. A well-dressed, elderly man, Mitch recognized him as a successful businessman in the city. He was flanked by two other men who, seeing Mitch’s weapon, drew their own.
“I’m a cop,” he said. “Drop the weapons.”
The security detail didn’t move.
“I mean it,” Mitch warned them. “Drop ‘em.”
The man looked to his security guards. “Do as he says.” They listened to him. “I’m Edward Patey, the owner here. Can you tell me what’s going on?”
Mitch ignored him and turned back to Igor. He fished a plastic tie from his pocket and used it to bind the burly Russian’s wrists behind his back. When the was sure the suspect wouldn’t escape, Mitch turned back to the older man.
Mr. Patey looked past Mitch and his mouth dropped at the sight of the women. “Who are these women?” he asked, shocked. “Are they okay?”
Mitch reached for his cell phone and remembered that it had been collected at the front desk. “You need to call an ambulance right now,” he told the older man’s security guards. He turned back to Mr. Patey. “How much do you know about what goes on down here? The things that Mr. Ivanov was doing here?”
The older man shook his head, bewildered. “Admittedly, not much. I’m rarely here, but when I am, I stay in my office or the main room. I have people to look after the day-to-day affairs.”
“People like Igor Ivanov?”
“Yes.”
“I think you need you need have a chat with your H.R. manager. There are things you need to know.”
Chapter 8
Mitch’s sunglasses protected against the barrage of light from the sun as he left his car and made his way into Brewed Moon. He didn’t think he’d ever needed a coffee so bad. The combination of staying up all night, the after-effects of the MDMA he’d been slipped, and his vigorous, erotic work-out with his mystery woman that night all led to one exhausted police detective.
After leaving the club, Mitch had ended up at the police station where they’d processed Igor, and, through the help of a Russian translator, received statements from the women confirming that they’d been kidnapped and brought from Russia to be forced into sex work at the club. Edward Patey seemed shocked and appalled that that sort of thing had been going on at the club and he promised to clean the place up. Mitch hoped that he was telling the truth. With that mountain of evidence, and knowing there was no way out, Igor confessed to trafficking the women and giving them the drugs that killed them, saying that he’d done so without the club’s owner knowing. He then offered them some more interesting information, he’d done everything under the direction of Yuri Petrova. A name that Mitch knew he
would hear again.
Shortly after dawn, Mitch had gone back to his apartment to change his clothes and shower. And knowing that he would get no sleep at all, he’d decided to head back to the precinct. He walked into the café and the potent smell of coffee invaded his nostrils, he inhaled deeply, and tried his damnedest not to yawn.
He walked up the counter where Juliana stood. He noticed that she looked a little worse for wear as well, with red, tired eyes, rimmed with what was probably last night’s eyeliner.
Juliana cocked her head to the side, noticing that he was staring at her. “What’s up, Mitch?”
“I’m in desperate need of caffeine,” he told her.
“Aren’t we all?” she bit back a yawn.
“Yeah, I had a bit of a late night last night,” he looked at her. “It looks like you did too.”
“Yeah, something like that,” she said, and went about pouring him a coffee. She poured it and passed it over the counter.
Without moving away from the counter, Mitch raised the cup to his lips, while Juliana retrieved her own cup and did the same. They locked eyes over their coffee mugs. “I never realized that you have green eyes.” They weren’t just green, but such a vivid colour that he had never seen before.
Well, maybe he’d seen it once before.
“Yeah, and I always have,” she laughed. She put down her cup. “Oh, while you’re here, would you mind giving me a hand with something?”
“Yeah, of course.”
She walked out from behind the counter and crooked a finger, beckoning him to follow her. “My filing cabinet is completely ancient,” she said over her shoulder, as he followed her to her office. “And one of the drawers is out of alignment or something, I can’t get it open.”
“And you need a big, strong man?” he asked her, joking.
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