Get done with this, he kept telling himself. Get done and get back to life. What was left of it. Like Rachelle. She hadn’t been answering his calls or returning his messages. No surprise there, really. She had every right to be frightened or disgusted. Every hour, every minute, the images, intruded his thoughts. The memories were so dense with sensation they were more like impressions, thoughts embedded deep in his mind, buried behind his emotions.
The gut wrenching possibilities of what more might happen to Rachelle if he didn’t get rid of Mattie plagued him. His own realities, the ways Mattie had used him for the past five days, the things she’d forced him to do, filled him with shame. It was his responsibility to get her away from them all. If only that was his only motivation for hunting down the man who’d written that shitty book that had started the whole shitstorm. He had a sense that he needed to get to him before Mattie did. There was no telling what she’d found in that book. The not knowing was killing him, but if he got to her first that wouldn’t matter because he’d get the man to tell him what was in the book and more.
There is was…the ultimate humiliation.
He hadn’t hated all of it. Worse still, he was beginning to crave it. The depravity. The freedom delivered by the inhumanity of it. It was wrong to want it. That release without consequence. Want her. Wanted more. Wanted to give her what she wanted, to truly satisfy her instead of just hold her off until the next time. He winced at the thought, knew how ugly and dangerous it was and began understood all too well why Guy Belmont had spent time in their shadows.
Hayden picked up his pace, rounded a corner and ran into a mob of high schoolers, faces downward at their phones, bundled into a tight cluster and blocking the way of everyone around them.
Fuck.
He made a sharp right, then stopped short when he literally collided with someone.
“Hey dude, watch where you’re going.”
Hayden came face to face with yet another zombie. Or, to be more accurate, someone’s interpretation of a zombie. The guy’s grey and brown make-up, torn clothes, and fake blood smeared into his dreadlocks looked nothing like them. The woman beside him had a similar thing going—a torn tan bodysuit and B movie horror makeup. She definitely didn’t look anything like her.
“Sorry,” Hayden offered after realizing he’d been staring. Waving his hand upward, he added, “Um, great make-up.”
Bodies pressed in from all directions, nearly locking him in place.
The guy, also sandwiched between people, jerked his head up and down. The dreadlocks bounced against his shoulders. “Good enough to win, ya think?”
Hayden looked beyond their shoulders, scanning the crowd. “Sure.”
“What about me?” the woman tapped him on the shoulder then shimmed when he looked back to her. “I’m trying for that so-scary-its-sexy look.”
Hayden blinked. “Oh.”
“Not enough?” The woman tugged on her body suit, pulling it down so more of her tits showed. “I’ll show more of my boobs. I don’t care.”
The guy grabbed his crotch. “For that prize? I’d put that make-up on my cock, make it look like its rotting away from my balls, and walk out there naked.”
Hayden continued searching the crowd, hoping to get an idea of where to look for that man next. A locals only press room? He could try calling Bob, see if he had an idea. But that meant talking to the man and Hayden was definitely trying to avoid that.
The woman managed to get herself in front of him, blocking his view and any possible exit. She pulled her zipper even lower and shook her breasts again, then asked Hayden, “How’s this? Still not enough?” Then, to the wanna-be zombie guy, she said, “You should totally do that with your dick! We’d totally win.”
Hayden’s stomach knotted at the thought of seeing that guy’s cock. “What’s the prize?”
A pair of people in a unicorn costume came through the stew of bodies, knocking the zombie woman off balance and making her fall against him, tits first. Once she got her footing back, she replied with an awkward wink. “Drinks with that guy, the zombie dude.”
Hayden extracted himself from her grip and got out of the way of the unicorn before it had a chance to run in to him. Maybe he could get Bob off his back by getting him interested in something else and buy him a little more time to get at Belmont. “You mean Rodney McKinnon?”
The noise from the swarm of people grew even louder and the guy had to yell over the low roar. “Nah—we don’t care about those Zombie Rites actors. What a bunch of wanna-be Walking Dead stars.”
The woman was readjusting the tops of her tits. “We’re going to that contest for the writer. The one who wrote that sex zombie book.”
The guy wrapped his arm around his not-nearly-sexy-enough woman. “You know, the researcher that wrote that weird ass sex book. You know, the one about the tribe.”
An announcement from the exhibit hall speakers droned from above, announcing the start of the Sex Tribe contest in ten minutes. The woman jabbed her guy with her elbow and pointed upward, toward the sound, then started shoving through the crowd.
Hayden’s words came out in a near squeak as he moved closer to them both. “Guy Belmont?” he started pushing through the bodies around him, trying to keep up with the couple as they moved away “What’s the prize?”
“Drinks.” She replied over her shoulder. “With him. Tonight.”
“Best sex zombie costume, that’s the contest. Two winners, man and woman.” The guy pushed aside two of the high schoolers who’d stopped to take selfies with the unicorn, opening a path between the mob.
“You going there now?” Hayden swerved around the unicorn, caught up with them again and tapped the guy’s shoulder. “To the contest?”
“Yep.” He jerked his arm overhead. “Follow us. For the win.”
The woman glanced back at Hayden, her grin an uncanny contrast to the deathly makeup covering her face. “You aren’t planning on entering?” She lifted an eyebrow, looked him up and down as she bounced along, giggling. “Are you?” Her laughter grew louder as the zombie guy tugged her through the crowd, her head jerking back each time he tugged her forward.
Hayden shrugged in response.
Laugh all you want. You’re not winning this contest.
He followed behind them, searching the crowd again but this time for Mattie. She was there--somewhere. Among the people, lurking in a hall, or crawling in the rafters. He knew she was near because he felt her, even since arriving at the convention. Her iron-laden scent had begun to seep through his chest, into his lungs. Soon he’d smell it on his skin and feel it deep inside. Then it would flow through his veins, making his blood thick and his cock pulse.
From in front of him, the zombie couple left the main wing of exhibitors then turned into a hall that was less crowded. They moved more quickly and Hayden followed, still looking, watching. Waiting. She had to need him soon.
Right then he needed her too. But not for the sex, he told himself.
Maybe she found someone else and used him instead.
He should be relieved.
At the end of the hall, they ran in to a mob of zombies in every possible state of tattered dress to nearly naked undress. A raven-haired woman wearing a tight black T-shirt dress and red vinyl thigh-high boots was sorting the creatures into two rows, men and women. The couple he’d followed in had already split apart and placed themselves in the lines, one of each side of a stage. Most of the chairs for the audience were full, one row of spectators waved their arms to the techno music humming from the stage speakers. Hayden backed up, flattened himself against a wall. A sudden chill rippled across him and he pulled his coat tighter, shoving his hands into the pockets.
The line of women zombies snaked out in front of him, gyrating. Every body type was represented. Every type but hers.
“Have you been looking for me, Hayden?”
He didn’t have to turn to know it was her, but he did anyway. She moved closer, brushed her leg again
st his and stared at him with her icy eyes.
“Get in that line.” He looked away from her and pointed. “You have to win this contest.”
“Since when do you tell me what to do?”
He reached for her, ready to shove her into the line, but she sidestepped, neatly avoiding his grasp. “This isn’t the time. I’ll explain later.” He pointed to the woman so intent on exposing her breasts. “Get in that line.”
She took a step forward, and Hayden noticed a man who’d been standing beside her. With his salt and pepper hair, basic beard, and average height he didn’t look like one of her tribe, but he was watching them both with a peculiar interest, a bizarre gleam in his brown eyes. The man held out his sunspot-covered hand. “Hayden?”
Hayden slid his hand from his pocket, slowly, letting his fingers brush the palm of the other man gradually, fearing that familiar chill. But the man’s hand was warm and his grip light.
“Um, yeah, I’m Hayden.” He followed through with the rest of the handshake, but the man didn’t let go.
Still gripping Hayden’s hand, the man tipped his head toward the row of female zombies starting to climb the steps leading to the stage and nearly yelled over the now blaring techno. “I have you to thank for all this.”
Hayden nodded vaguely, tugged, finally extracting his hand then pushing Mattie toward the stage. “Get in that line.”
She spun, shoved him back, pinned him to the wall. His blood stirred when her breasts brushed him, the memory of their constant fucking so fresh and vivid it made his bones ache. “I know something you don’t know, Hayden.” She pressed in to him, jabbing his ribcage with her elbow. “As usual.”
Hayden grabbed her arm, wrapping his fingers tightly around her forearm as he tried to yank her arm away. “Get in that line.”
She eased back and sneered. “After I get in the line, what do you want me to do?”
The man pushed himself between the two of them. “Be yourself. Win my contest.”
Her sneer shifted into an inelegant leer, directed at him. The man took two steps back, rolling his shoulders into his battered safari jacket. She slipped her fingertips under the red bindings wrapped around her chest. “Hear that Hayden? His contest.”
What the fuck were they talking about. “Your contest?”
He unhooked his shoulders some and nodded. It took longer than it should have, but he figured it out. This little man in the ridiculous safari jacket was the very man he been looking for, the one who’d been ignoring him. “Belmont?”
The guy straightened his back even more. “Please. Call me Guy.” The man smacked Haydn’s bicep. “I feel like we’re friends already.”
Hayden bit back the fuck you very much for not answering any of Bob’s emails. Who did this asshole think he was?
“You wait here. I have a contest to win.” One side of her lip curled upward as she looked down at his fingers, still squeezing her pale flesh. “Why the stupid expression? You don’t think I’ll make the cut?” She moved her gaze to his face. “You worried about my feelings? That’ll I’ll try to cry on your shoulder?”
“If I were the judge, I’d pick you. That’s for damn sure.” The man made a point of staring hard at Mattie’s tits, then pinched the hem of her skirt and lifted it to expose one of the holes in her fishnets. “And you know, I am the most credible judge.”
Guy’s grating laughter was so out of place it made Hayden’s skin quiver and his nerve endings jump.
Still sneering, Mattie flicked Guy’s hand away. “You’re both so sweet.” Then she slipped into the center of the line, ignoring the complaints coming from the women she’d cut in front of.
Hayden cut his eyes toward the man who was staring hard at Mattie, pushing her way to the front. A few minutes later, she was on the stage, rolling her hips in rhythm to the music. Bending, writhing, curling her foot behind her while her arms arched up reaching for a pole that wasn’t here. Disgusting. Sinister. Beautiful. The music continued. Hayden had to watch. Knowing that the old man beside him was also captivated repulsed him, but not enough to keep him from looking away.
One by one the other women backed away, their lips twitching with fake smiles, their shoulders hunching as they ran into each other, forming a cluster at the edge of the stage. A few of the men were still moving, doing what they could to keep up with her but even they were intimidated. None was her equal and they all knew it.
“I’ll give you all my notes for a night with her.”
Long seconds passed. When he said nothing, the man repeated his request, his stale breath rasping into his ear. Hayden finally pulled his gaze away from the stage, slid closer to Belmont and looked at him, really looked at him. The man returned the scrutiny, unflinching. “You don’t know what you’re asking.” He shook his head, the small and slight. “You really have no idea.”
The man lifted his chin as he gazed over Hayden’s shoulder. “Tell me what you see?”
He didn’t need to look. She lived in his imagination now. He gestured to the stage with his thumb. “The w--”
“No.” Guy tapped on his own chest. “When you look at me.”
Hayden took a step forward, putting his back to the stage and blocking Guy’s view as he gave him a careful once over. A short, weak-looking old man with grey hair and a L.L. Bean travel vest. Beige khakis and sturdy boots. Nothing much, that’s what he saw.
Guy lowered his hand rolled his head as though loosening his shoulders. “You don’t need to protect me.”
Protect him? That’d been the last thing on his mind.
Behind them, over the crushing music, the crowd began to howl. The air vibrated and the sharp, escalating tension in their collective voices filled Hayden’s gut with trepidation. If only they knew. Understood.
He leaned down, images of the cage, the tea, and that night with Matthew swirling through his mind. “You don’t understand what you’re asking for.”
“Do you want the notes? Don’t bother answering because I know you do.” He unzipped the highest of the pockets covering the front of his jacket, took out a black thumb drive and held it up. “And I have the rest, original drawings and all, in my hotel room.”
The howling continued, building more, apprehension tightening the air. Maybe that anxiety didn’t belong to the crowd. It belonged to him. He stared at the man, an old loser who’d gone to college long before student loans became the unbearable burden of everyone over the age of 25. ”Why are you asking if you already know?”
“Don’t forget the emails and that Facebook message. You boss is a little bit desperate I’d say. That makes you desperate. Right? I’m glad for the reaching out though. Gave me plenty of time to think about what I wanted in return. Now you know. One night with her.”
Hayden eyed the flash drive. It looked like a dollar sign and represented freedom. “I don’t own her. She does what she wants.”
Guy held it up, inspecting it as though it was a precious gemstone. “That’s not what she told me. She said I had to get your permission.”
“And I’m telling you, you don’t need my permission.” The ear-piercing howling continued, blending with the music. The people who’d been staring nearby had moved to the stage, so now the space around them was clear. “She’s going to win. She’ll be your prize.”
“All that means is that I don’t have to waste time with some fake zombie assholes.” Guy slipped the thumb drive back into the pocket, zipped it closed, then patted the pocket. “Give me permission for my night, and I’ll give you what you want.”
The noise behind lowered suddenly. “Yeah. Fine. But you don’t know--”
Guy’s brown eyes took on a new sheen. “I tracked them, watched them, lived in their shadows. I know everything about them but I never got to…experience it. Them. The life.” He moved away from the wall, leaned in and took a deep breath. “I know you have. I can smell her on you.”
Hayden recoiled, then reminded himself he’d left behind doing the right thing and caring abo
ut other people was part of his past. Now he needed what he needed—information and a way out. For him. This old man could do whatever the hell he wanted. No matter how stupid.
“I don’t care what it costs.” The man continued, sniffing, that gleam in his gaze getting thicker, filling with carnal darkness. “I know what I want and finally, after all these years, I’m going to get it.”
It was only then that he remembered Rachelle. The thought followed quickly by a twinge of responsibility. Hayden wanted a way out for her too.
Chapter Ten
“You don’t understand what you’re asking for.”
At exactly 10:30 that night, Hayden knocked on the door of Belmont’s hotel room. After Mattie’d won the female half of the contest, the two of them left the convention center--with the thumb drive and the male contest winner. The old man had been alone with her and the other winner for hours. There was no telling what scene awaited him on the other side of the door. No matter, he wanted what he wanted and now was not the time to stop. He knocked again, louder and harder than the first time. This time, the noise was followed by muffled voices, a thump and then by a low laugh that made Hayden’s gut constrict.
The door swung wide, hit the wall with a thump, then started to swing shut again, but Hayden grabbed the edge, eased it open and stepped through. Guy was retreating down the short hall, his pale, wrinkled flesh completely exposed except for his ass covered by his blue and white pinstriped boxers. Averting his gaze from the man’s pathetic body, Hayden followed him to the end of hall. The room was a suite, with a sitting area, lighted balcony and modern kitchenette. The thermos was on the granite counter, one tin mug next to it.
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