With A Twist
Chapter 1
Wyatt
“Raze… there’s a drunk douche up in VIP Room Number Two who won’t take no for an answer. Not sure why Misty is telling him ‘no’ but go get a handle on it,” Lance Portman says as he grips my shoulder to help get my attention over the thumping music. Luckily, the name Raze comes completely natural to me now, and I think if someone actually called me Wyatt, I wouldn’t react very quickly.
That’s merely a product of being deep undercover for the past three months, living as Charles “Razor” Hawkins… Raze to my friends, criminal acquaintances, and coworkers. I’ve completely assumed this new identity and outside of the disgust over working in a sleazy strip joint called The Platinum Club, everything else has been going well on this operation.
I nod at Lance, who is second in command here, and turn away, heading for the staircase. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Leisha crawling across the stage toward a patron who is waving a fifty-dollar bill at her, her huge double Ds swinging back and forth. Catching Leon’s eye, I jerk my head upward so he knows I’m heading upstairs and to keep an eye on the stage. More than once, a fight had broken out when Leisha started jiggling her tits in front of the patrons, and Leon is one of the more reliable bouncers in here. I don’t hesitate to remove myself from the main floor as long as he’s around. His huge, ham-sized biceps are enough to handle even the rowdiest of customers while I’m gone.
My job here as the general manager is multi-faceted. On the legal side of things, I oversee the management of all the dancers and supporting staff of bartenders and bouncers, and I handle inventory and cash the registers out each night for deposit. I manage schedules, and I’m on duty every night to make sure things go off without a hitch. General business management stuff.
On the not-so-legal side of things, I oversee quite a bit too. Once I was brought into the circle of trust, one of my first criminal acts was to start vetting customers that wanted more than just a lap dance.
Yeah, I essentially became an in-house pimp and made sure that horny men with the right amount of cash could get a blow job or a fuck from one of the dancers if they passed muster.
Which is why I’m heading up to VIP Two now. Misty has two gentlemen—and I use that term loosely—in there with her. They are repeat customers, big spenders, and Simon would want them well cared for. Despite the oily feeling it gives me, I need to get Misty back on board with what she’s promised them or else it’s my ass Simon will be all over… because this little prostitution side business is how I first entered the circle of trust with him.
Simon Keyes is my main target—my objective in this sting.
He owns The Platinum Club, along with a variety of other semi-legitimate businesses. A pawnshop that actually fronts stolen goods, a Western union franchise that cashes forged welfare checks for a cut of the proceeds, and a bakery that fronts as a meth operation. None of those businesses interests me, the Raleigh PD, or the FBI though.
No, the business we have our eye on is one that is very covert and has taken me quite some time to inch my way in on. That’s because if Simon is ever busted for what I’m looking at him for, he’s going away forever, and so, he’s very picky as to who he brings into his circle of trust.
Simon Keyes is in the sex-slave trade. He came upon the FBI’s radar about two years ago when they investigated a woman’s claim from out in Denver, who showed up at the police station. Her name is Laney Tellar, and her story was that she had been abducted and sold into sexual slavery. She had no clue where she was being held, stating that it was on a private estate in a nondescript neighborhood. She was never out of chains for the entire time of her captivity, so she never even knew what state she was in. However, her owner—Master as she was told to call him—apparently couldn’t be separated from her and insisted she go on a business trip with him to Denver. He kept her in chains there too, drugged and gagged when he was away, right in the posh hotel room he had booked for three days.
His mistake was in leaving the key to the cuffs on the nightstand while he went to take a shower one evening, and she made a quick break for it. By the time the police had gotten her statement and sent units to the hotel, the man was long gone. He had, of course, checked in under an alias and no trace of him could be found. Laney reported it took them approximately six hours to reach Denver by stretch limo from wherever she was being held, so the geographical radius of her prison could be ascertained but not much else.
The one thing Laney did know, however, was that she was abducted from Raleigh, North Carolina, where she had been living since dropping out of college at the age of nineteen. By age twenty, she had been dancing at The Platinum Club and was hooked on cocaine. Her last clear memories of North Carolina were going to bed at night in her little dingy apartment on Cowell Street in downtown. She woke up gagged with her hands and feet tied, rolling around the back of a cargo van.