Retribution Read online

  A bottle blonde came out a moment later, hopping on one foot as she pulled on a green sequined skirt with fringe at the bottom made to look like a mermaid’s tail.

  Cindi cocked her head to Stacey as she spoke to Rachel. “This lady’s looking for Margaret. Tell her about that time you were drugged at the Pana Sea.”

  Rachel frowned. “There’s nothing to tell, really. And it wasn’t at the Pana Sea, it was sometime after. This guy Donald took me to a big house where he said a party was going on, but I don’t remember the party, or even going inside. I don’t remember anything until the next day. I woke up on a park bench.”

  A park bench. Jesus. Tossed out like a piece of litter. Sounded a lot like what happened to Val.

  “Did you go to the police?” Stacey asked.

  “No.” Rachel’s face fell. “Sometimes weird shit happens. You get used to it. I need to finish getting ready. Sorry I can’t help more.” She disappeared down the hallway, her steps quick to avoid being pulled back into another painful conversation.

  You get used to sexual assault? That was not fucking right. No wonder Val didn’t want to go to the police. Stacey turned her attention back to Cindi. “Has that happened to anyone else you know of?”

  Cindi tapped her lips. “Something sort of like that happened to Becca, but she was at some other club, not the Pana Sea.”

  “Where can I find her?”

  “I don’t know where she lives. I haven’t seen her in a while, since she…got sick.”

  Stacey shook off a moment of terror for Val. She knew Val’s STD and pregnancy tests had come back negative. The illness and the memory loss were probably unrelated. Probably.

  “Everybody’s nervous to go solo these days, but the bills gotta get paid, you know? At least we can look out for each other at the parties.” She glanced at a clock on the wall. “That’s all I know. I have to finish getting ready, too. Will you tell me if you find her?”

  Stacey’s gaze flickered to Cindi’s seashell bikini. “Of course. I’ll come by as soon as I know. Hey, can I walk around and talk to the other ladies for a few minutes?”

  “Sure.”

  Stacey didn’t think she could learn anything more, but she really wanted to look around. In the bathroom, three women in thongs and the same mermaid bikinis as Cindi giggled with each other as they painted on makeup. Stacey eyed the perfect curves of their asses, imagined what it’d be like to run her fingers down that skin. They sent friendly waves her way. Stacey grinned back and moved on before they could sense her less-than-innocent motives.

  She heard animated discussion among three or four women in a room at the end of the hall—probably the master bedroom—but she poked her head into a small guest bedroom first. A single woman inhabited this one, her back to Stacey as she sat in front of a vanity mirror and applied lotion to her completely nude body. Stacey did a double take; not because of the woman’s flawless skin or exquisite form, but because Stacey recognized her.

  “Kat?”

  It couldn’t be. Stacey’s ex-girlfriend had disappeared right after the Pacific Science Center shoot-out, where her car had exploded—a car Kat had somehow rigged to explode, right before she lent it to Stacey. The official report said the car belonged to Norman Barrister’s henchman, but Stacey knew differently. She had assumed Katrina fled the country after stomping on Stacey’s heart in service of whatever crazy shit was going on with Val, but obviously she’d assumed wrong.

  Kat looked in the mirror at Stacey, her icy blue eyes betraying a rare moment of surprise before melting into the alluring stare Stacey still imagined when she was with other women. “Hey, babe,” she said in her familiar velvet voice.

  “Hey, babe? Are you fucking serious?” Stacey crossed her arms. “I should turn you in to the goddamn police, you bitch.”

  “But that won’t match the established narrative.”

  No, it wouldn’t. A lot of anonymous, powerful people had worked hard to hide the truth of what actually happened at the Science Center that day—people Kat worked for, Stacey guessed.

  “So you’re a hooker now? Terrorism didn’t have a nice enough retirement plan?”

  Kat smirked, an elegant curve on her lips. “I like to keep my options open. Prevents being stovepiped.”

  “Sure, talk around me with your bullshit answers. There’s no way it’s a coincidence Val and I are looking for a missing woman she saw in a vision and you just happen to be here.”

  “That is strange.” Kat squeezed lotion into her hand and rubbed it on her long legs, up and down her thighs. Heat blossomed in Stacey’s belly. This bitch knew how to play her.

  “Do you know where Margaret Monroe is?” Stacey asked with a sneer in her voice. Maybe Kat would surprise her and actually tell the truth for once.

  “No.”

  “Do you know who raped Val?”

  Another flash of surprise crossed Kat’s face. “I didn’t know she was raped.”

  Stacey lifted her chin, enjoying a moment of knowing something Kat didn’t—unless Kat lied about that, too. “She was drugged by a guy named Lucien Christophe, then raped by three men while she was unconscious. You don’t know anything about that?”

  “No…” For a second Kat looked lost in thought, then her controlled demeanor took over again. She squeezed a glob of glittering goo from a tube, then rubbed it on her breasts, making circles around her nipples with her fingers. She met Stacey’s eyes, and Stacey thought she might come right there. “I’m sorry about Val, if that’s true.”

  “Of course it’s true!” Anger stomped over her arousal. “Why the fuck would I lie?”

  Kat shrugged. “You’ve always been protective of Val—too protective. Seems a little one-sided, don’t you think?”

  Stacey scoffed. “You sit there and talk like you know me, but you don’t know shit.” She turned to leave, then turned back. “And you have no right to psychoanalyze my life. I gave my heart to you based on a bunch of lies you told me. If you think I care for Val more than she cares for me, you should’ve given me something else to hold on to. I could’ve loved you like nobody else. Instead you fucking used me.”

  Kat’s face fell into an emotion Stacey had never seen her express before; it looked like regret, or sadness, or both. No, it was Stacey’s imagination. Wishful thinking. With tears in her eyes, Stacey left Kat and the apartment, to follow Val’s lead and fall off the grid for a while.

  Chapter Eleven

  This is it!” Ginger said as he pulled up to a mansion in Blue Ridge isolated by a patch of evergreen forest.

  “Whose house is this?” Max asked from the passenger seat of Ginger’s Porsche. The modern glass walls brought back unpleasant memories of his father’s mansion on Mercer Island, though with all the drapes drawn, it could look completely different on the inside.

  “Dunno,” Ginger said. “It’s always different. I think the guy who runs these things just rents a place for the night.”

  “So you’ve met the guy in charge?”

  “I’ve met the guy who takes my money. I’m pretty sure he’s not the one in charge, though.”

  “And he throws one of these things every weekend?”

  Ginger chuckled. “I wish. They come in clusters. Every three or four months or so, there’ll be a bunch of parties. Then nothing. You got lucky, bro. Picked the right time to get on board.”

  Ginger stopped his Porsche behind a Ferrari—real subtle for a secret-club party—and hopped out. A valet in plain clothes rushed forward and drove off with the car as Ginger strode toward the entrance, eager anticipation quickening his step. Max lingered at the curb for a minute to check his cell phone. He queued up a voice mail he’d been waiting for over a week to receive, and crossed his fingers it was what he wanted to hear.

  “Hello, Mr. Carressa,” a woman’s no-nonsense voice said. “This is Josephine Price. I appreciate your offer to start a scholarship fund in my brother and father’s names, but I don’t think it’s a good idea, since their deaths were so
…controversial, and you are also…controversial.” She sighed, and her tone turned angry. “Look, I don’t know if you’re trying to rehabilitate your image or add another notch to your philanthropy belt, but my family doesn’t need your money. So stop offering.” The message ended.

  “Shit,” Max muttered. He wished he had something other than money to give her, but he didn’t. Maybe if he told her the truth, she’d finally stop hating him for the indirect role he’d played in Robby and Dean Price’s deaths. I’m your brother, he’d practiced telling her hundreds of times in his head. We have the same father, so…How ’bout them Mariners? He’d never had a sibling, or any other family besides his horrible father, after his mother died. He thought he never wanted a family, but when he discovered he had a sister, he found himself irrationally curious about her. So far she’d rebuffed all his indirect attempts to meet with her. Telling her the truth seemed more and more like the only option. It made his palms sweat.

  Max resolved to come up with another plan later and slipped his phone back into his sport coat pocket, then caught up with Ginger as the man-child wrapped on the front door. A gorgeous black woman in a tight satin dress answered, all inviting smiles. Max repressed a frown in response. He had hoped the party would consist of lonely, rich men wearing black robes and exchanging secret handshakes while they drank highballs and chatted about sports, or something equally inane. Above all, he prayed this thing wasn’t, in fact, an orgy, even though Ginger’s enthusiasm argued to the contrary.

  “Hi, Daneeka,” Ginger said. He grabbed her ass and pulled her into a sloppy kiss.

  She pushed him away and giggled. “Oh, you.”

  Max cringed and started planning his exit strategy. He’d owned a sex club not long ago—the Red Raven in Moonlight, now divested—though he wasn’t himself a fan of public or anonymous sex, especially with his condition. Even if he had been, a quick roll in the hay was out of the question now that he had Abby. He’d scope the place out, get a read on the situation and anything suspicious for Val, then bolt. He didn’t want to be at this party one second longer than necessary.

  “Will you be having the usual?” Daneeka asked Ginger.

  “Hell yeah,” Ginger said. “Super-size it, baby.”

  She looked at Max. “And what drink can I have prepared for you, sir?”

  “Vodka on the rocks will be fine, thanks.”

  She nodded, then motioned them into a dark foyer, where an older man in a crisp suit stepped forward and shook their hands. “Mr. Carressa, excellent you could join us.”

  Max gave the man a tight smile. So much for flying under the radar. The man held out his hand expectantly, and Max wondered if he wanted a tip.

  Ginger handed the man a credit card. He nudged Max to follow his lead. “It has to be black,” he said, and winked.

  Max hesitated for a moment, then fished his American Express Centurion card out of his wallet and handed it over. He could always cancel it and get another one if fraudulent charges popped up. The man pocketed the cards, then handed Max and Ginger a couple of masquerade ball-style masks off a table.

  Max gritted his teeth. Masks? This whole thing kept getting worse.

  Feeling like an idiot, Max slipped on the mask and followed Ginger and Daneeka through a hallway until they reached a large room lit in ethereal blues that shimmered off glass walls like an aquarium’s interior. The whole scene looked like a mixer in an underwater grotto, with smooth electronic music humming in the background. About fifty men and women in masks loitered around the room, drinking and talking to each other. Beautiful women in bikini tops and long skirts made to look like mermaid tails, as well as a few men in merman outfits, worked the crowd. Max did a double take when he saw one man walk by swinging his arms as if he were swimming through the air.

  Daneeka disappeared, and a mermaid walked up to them holding a tray with two drinks and two small paper cups perched atop. Max took the tumbler that was obviously his while Ginger snatched up a huge glass of brown liquid—probably a giant rum and Coke—as well as one of the paper cups.

  “Aw, yeah,” Ginger said before he tipped the contents of the cup into his mouth and chased it down with a long gulp of his drink.

  The mermaid smiled at Max and nodded toward the remaining paper cup. With some reluctance he took the cup and peered inside. It held two pills, one red and one blue.

  Ginger punched Max in the arm. “It’s cool, bro. Just take them. It will blow your fucking mind, trust me.” He leaned toward Max and whispered, “It’s the whole point of these parties. Otherwise it’s like a fucking junior prom in here.”

  Max didn’t trust Ginger on anything, but if the pills were the main draw, then he had to see what they did. He threw the pills in his mouth and swallowed them with vodka. He wasn’t too concerned with what the pills were; probably an Ecstasy derivative. He already popped OxyContin like candy. What was another illicit drug coursing through his veins? And if he overdosed…Well, Abby would be sad.

  He wandered to the corner of the room while Ginger glommed on to a blond mermaid who bore a disturbing resemblance to Abby. Strangely, Max didn’t recognize most people at the party. There weren’t that many millionaires in the Seattle area, and they all ran in the same circles. Even with the masks, he’d still recognize Seattle’s elite by their hair and clothing. This crowd must’ve contained of a lot of out-of-towners.

  “I never thought I would see you here,” a man with a slight French accent said behind him.

  Max recognized Lucien Christophe’s voice even before he turned to face the Frenchman. Lucien gave Max a cockeyed grin beneath a mask made of black feathers.

  “I’m Ginger’s wingman,” Max said. He nodded toward Abby’s brother, already making out with the blond mermaid on the far side of the room.

  “Admirable of you. That can’t be easy.”

  Max shrugged. “Depends what the pills do.”

  “The blue creates the dream. The red enhances pleasure.”

  Great—a dream orgy. “Did you make them?” Max asked as nonchalantly as possible. At least part of Lucien’s financial portfolio included pharmaceuticals. He definitely had the means.

  “Of course not,” Lucien said with the easy confidence of a skilled liar.

  “Do you know where the party host got all the mermaids? Are they hired escorts?”

  Lucien smiled and cocked his head toward the crowd, growing more raucous as the drugs kicked in. “Look at them. What do you think?”

  Max finished his vodka. A mermaid waitress appeared almost immediately with another one. He waved her off, then decided to push his luck. “You run these things, don’t you?”

  Lucien laughed and put his arm around Max’s shoulders. “I have to tell you, I’m glad you came. Making conversation with rich idiots and women who only tell you what you want to hear becomes tedious after a while. You are so much more interesting.” He slapped Max’s chest. “I want to show you something.”

  He took a step away, one hand still on Max’s shoulder. Max flinched when Lucien turned back to him. Blood leaked from beneath Lucien’s feathered mask, crimson streaks dribbling down a pulpy face. Max blinked, and the blood was gone.

  “I will be back shortly,” Lucien said. “Don’t go far, my friend.” He clapped Max on the shoulder and disappeared down a side hallway.

  Max stood frozen for a moment. What the hell had he seen on Lucien’s face? He took a deep breath and tried to push the disturbing image out of his mind. A wave of dizziness hit him, and he put his head in his hands for a moment. When he opened his eyes again, he realized with a jolt that his whole body was immersed in water. He tried to swim to the surface shimmering above him, but no matter how much he flailed, he couldn’t reach air. His lungs began to burn. With no other choice, he sucked in water…and felt fine. He could breathe underwater.

  He could breathe underwater! Max didn’t remember how he’d ended up submerged, but the blue pill must have allowed his body to convert water into breathable oxygen some
how. The underwater grotto he found himself in sparkled everywhere a sapphire blue. Neon fish swam past his head, scattering when he reached out to touch them. Other partygoers floated around him, penguins with human faces and naked mermaids whose tails transformed to bare legs and back again.

  A smile grew on Max’s face until he found himself giggling with childish delight. This was an amazing party—probably the best one he’d ever been to. He was breathing under the goddamn water in a tropical paradise! He’d never felt so giddy in his life. Max swam through the penguins and mermaids. The ladies smiled and winked as he floated by. Elation gripped him in a way he hadn’t felt since…well, since he’d been in bed with Val in the boathouse all those months ago. He flipped onto his back and watched the sun play on the surface above him, a moving mosaic of blues.

  Then he blinked, and the water’s surface became a dark ceiling with blue and white light splashed across it. The light faded and the plaster darkened with soot. Spiderweb cracks spread across the rotting surface, until the ceiling collapsed on top of him.

  Max cried out and threw his hands above his head as he stumbled backward. He ran into someone, spun around to face a naked mermaid with lustrous blond hair, icy blue eyes, and a body he knew well, like a sculpted work of art.

  “Kitty?” he stammered at his former personal assistant and casual sex partner. “You’re a mermaid?”

  A crooked grin played across her perfect lips. “It’s something I do on the side.”

  “What’re you doing here?”

  “Reconnaissance and asset management. Mermaid things.”

  He’d been transported back to the underwater grotto. “The ceiling fell on me,” he said as he swam in place. “Where did it go?”

  Kitty took his arm. “Come with me.”

  She dragged him through the water until he forced her to stop. He stood in the mansion’s main room again, silhouettes all around him, moving, multiplying, cutting into him and through him like millions of stenciled drawings laid on top of each other.

  Max squeezed his eyes shut and put his head in his hands. “Oh God oh God oh God—”