The themes vary from year to year. A few we’re utilizing this year are a prison escape with a slew of locks and gates, opening a casino vault, a haunted schoolhouse, a mortuary with a whole buried-alive vibe, and an espionage mission, among others.
Maddox points at one of the rooms, where a guy is atop a table. “That jackass is trying to go out through the ceiling.”
Mercy sips her French 75, relaxed and majestic, her eyes as effervescent as the bubbles. “The staff won’t stop him?”
“Nah.” Cash glides his finger around the rim of his glass, laying out how we do things with his customary smooth air. “The staff might fuck with them, but we applaud tenacity. If they want to crawl through the ductwork and arrive at the party covered in dust, we won’t stop them. We don’t tell them it’s permitted, but none of these guys color inside the lines.”
“Exactly.” I mindlessly roll my dice around my palm, letting the polished bronze cool my skin. “It’s encouraging to see what it’s worth to them.”
“A few years back, we had a group of enforcers chew through wires because they couldn’t find the hidden tools to cut them.” Axel directs her to a room that’s set up like a WWII bunker, where a crew is dismantling a bomb. “It was kind of like that one.”
“Best fucking solution ever.” Jax beams at the memory. “Those guys are beasts. I’ve inked most of them.”
Mercy taps the stem of her champagne flute with one French-manicured nail, the twitch of an accolade on her lips as she keeps her eyes on the screens. “And the partnerships? You’re puppeteers.”
Axel’s sapphires drift to her, the pride of a leader creasing them. “Yes,weare.”
The emphasis probably goes over her head, but it’s there either way. Axel and I have been through the thick of things together. He’s always supported me, even if our approaches vary dramatically at times. But his repeated emphasis to Mercy that she belongs here, that she’s staying, that it’s what’s best for her means everything. He felt so powerless when she left. This is his way of helping Mercy and me pick up the pieces.
“It’s almost time.” I shove my dice into my pocket and finish my drink. “We should head down soon.”
“Why are those men twirling like ballerinas?” Mercy asks as my brothers erupt in laughter at the sight of an entire group pirouetting.
“That’s what Cash was talking about. Sometimes, they try to barter with the staff for clues over the two-way speaker, and our employees are fucking ruthless.” Maddox stands, tightening the band on his onyx hair since several strands fell forward. “We train them well.”
Stealing some of that credit, I rise to join him. “I think that’s Gentry’s room.”
“Right. That must be it.” Cash’s mouth folds into a skeptical frown, clearly insinuating that Gentry’s prowess has more to do with their employee training.
I shake my head, grabbing Mercy’s hand and guiding her to the exit as I call over my shoulder, “Everything you know, you learned from Axe and me.”
A boom of Axel’s laughter rushes after us. “I one hundred percent agree with that statement.”
Cash scoffs. “Watch your wallets, old men. And your girl, Ryker.”
I spin around to pin him with a death glare just as Maddox grips his shoulder and waves me off.
“We have a students-surpassing-the-masters scenario here. Nothing but respect for you old-timers though.” He stalls hissmart-ass retort, just long enough to let the impending barb hook in good when he flings it. “Unless Merce wants to finally take me up on that date.”
“Still good, Maddox. Thanks.” She drags me forward, glowering at my pinched brow as we trek toward the ballroom. “I hope that suffices so you don’t have to bend me over and piss on me during the opening ceremony.”
“I’m not really into golden showers, but I’m willing to compromise if you beg me nicely.” I wink, aware that’s not one of her kinks, but eager to see if I can make her blush anyway. “Nothing’s off the table if you’re a good girl for me.”
She rolls her eyes, but her complexion does pinken as she bites her lip and bats her lashes at me. “I’d tell you to teach me a lesson, buturineover your head, Mr. Noire.”
Impressed by the impeccable timing, I can’t keep the laugh from bubbling out of me. “How the hell do you look that sexy, telling a dad joke?”
“Only the child of a sex club owner could associate golden-shower puns with dad jokes.” As the words fall from her lips, a pall of shame veils her. “Sorry.”
I’m not sure what she’s apologizing for, whether it’s guilt for the dig about my father on a day centered upon dismantling his legacy, the remembrance that her own dad raised her well but was aligned with criminals, or the insinuation that she wouldn’t want a man who owned a sex club to raise her child. The last possibility stings because I’d give anything for Remy to be mine, but maybe she’ll never see me as enough.
Our conversation is devoured by jabbering about the progress in the escape rooms my brothers are witnessing on their phones. Some of the groups have made it through. Others are close. And a few don’t stand a chance. That’s usually how it goes.
When we enter, the hall is drenched in darkness, aside from some sconces, candles, and the soft violet glow illuminated beneath the centerpieces. The decor is black, gold, and periwinkle blue. It’s elegant and extravagant. But not much of the opulence is visible within the shadows.
Axel grips my elbow as we’re piling onto the stage. “The welcome toast is yours.”
This won’t be the first time I’ve given it, but I generally defer to him. Mercy being here makes this a special honor. She’ll stand beside me for all to see she’s mine.
