HeroRising (16 page)

“At The Cavern,” he mumbled.

“Case closed.”

Marco discreetly flashed his badge at the doorman. “I’d like
to have a friendly word with your boss.”

The man raised a beefy eyebrow then motioned with a jerk of
his head. “Right this way.”

With one step, Marco left the familiar white noise of the
city street and entered a world of loud music and flashing lights. At first
glance The Cavern appeared to be like any other nightclub with several bars,
clusters of tables and a bevy of sweaty bodies grinding together on the crowded
dance floor. If he was honest, he’d have to admit that the interior was much
nicer than any of the other clubs his work brought him to. Nicer than even the
few he’d been to in Vegas. The club had class, no doubt about that, and as he
waited by the bar where he was escorted, he saw why Coulter had been so eager
to tag along.

Stories abounded throughout the police force about
free-for-all sex taking place in every corner of the club, and while Marco
didn’t see anything more scandalous than some heavy groping and a hand job
going on at a nearby table, he’d bet money they were all true. There was a
heightened sense of excitement pulsating in the air. A sensation of impending
action that made him shift on his feet and continually scan the room for any
unusual movement. Tiny pinpricks raced across his skin, and under his
lightweight jacket his blood heated. Perspiration beaded on his lip and induced
the urge to shed his clothing to relieve the pressure of his zipper against his
stiffening cock.

He glanced up at the ceiling, searching for a source of
ventilation. What were they doing? Pumping aphrodisiacs into the air? His heart
sped up and he fought the need to walk out onto the dance floor just to feel
some friction against his tingling skin.

The crowd parted and a woman walked toward him with a smile
curling her luscious lips. Woman? Ha! This girl was unreal. She was an ethereal
bombshell straight out of a comic book, with her shining straight black hair,
curves like a ’55 Bel Air and lavender eyes that seemed to look straight to his
soul and stir up all the desires he thought were dead and buried. A pale-pink
gown hugged her body like extra-cling plastic wrap, and if he squinted his
eyes, she appeared to be wearing nothing at all. The effect did not help temper
his raging libido.

Damn, he had to make this fast and get the hell out before
he did something embarrassing.

The enchantress held out her hand. “Good evening. I’m
Amaryllis Kilsgaard. I was told you wished to speak to me?”

This was Briggs’ sister-in-law? Holy hell. Now he really,
really hated the Kilsgaard men.

To his surprise her handshake was as firm as any man’s he’d
encountered. She might have looked like a fairy princess, but she had the grip
strength of an ogre. “Mrs. Kilsgaard, I’m Police Captain Marco DeWinter.”

“Oh,” she squealed, throwing her arms around his neck and
peppering both his cheeks with kisses. “Captain DeWinter. Thank you so much for
what you did for Fiona. My family will always be grateful for your assistance
with her rescue.”

“Ha. Funny you should say that. I’ll have to remind you of
that in the future.” He made sure he canted his hips back so she couldn’t feel
the effect of her wiggling against him. He released a mental sigh once she
stepped away. “Actually, I was looking to speak to your husband, Lucian.”

She arched her brow. “I was told you asked to speak to the
boss. That’s me.”

“Ah.” He rocked back on his heels, certain the little minx
was testing him. “Why don’t I doubt that you rule everything around here?”

“Because you are a smart man.”

“I apologize for the error. I guess I should have been more
specific with the doorman. I have a few questions for your husband. Is there a
quiet place I can speak with him?”

“I can arrange something. Please, follow me.”

As if he could resist following the swish of her backside
encased in that pink satin. And he noticed he wasn’t the only one watching her
as a few men followed her progress across the room.

Amaryllis led him up a grand staircase and down a long
hallway. As they passed door after door he heard the sounds of flesh on flesh
intermixed with screams of “Fuck me harder.” Marco didn’t dare look into the
rooms with open doors, but by facing forward his eyes were drawn to his
hostess’s delectable ass. No matter where he looked, he was fucked.

“Is this your first visit to The Cavern, Captain?” she asked
with a glance over her shoulder and her hair falling across her eye with supermodel
precision. The smile in her light irises made him think she knew exactly what
he had been thinking and thought it was hysterical.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Oh, you must come again for a more social visit. I can
arrange a private tour. Show you all the best parts of the club.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that. Besides, I don’t go out
much.”

“That’s a shame. A balanced life is a happy life. The offer
still stands.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll keep it in mind. That is an
interesting accent you have there, Mrs. Kilsgaard.” And an awfully familiar
one. “Where exactly are you from?”

“Please, call me Amaryllis. I’m from a little village in
Sweden. Very remote. Not many people have heard of it. That’s why I love this
city. So very different and much more exciting. Are you from here?”

Nice deflection. “Yep. Born and raised.”

“Local son done well. Good for you, Captain. Right this
way.”

Amaryllis breezed through the only doorway guarded by a
bouncer. More on the cautious side, he paused at the entrance and surveyed the interior.

The change from the loud, boisterous first floor to the
mellow, almost tranquil private suite was a jolt to his senses. The plush
interior was large enough to hold a party of fifty. A fully stocked bar of
black granite and gold fittings was to his left and fed into another dance
floor. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a sniper’s view of the crowd below and
a stripper’s pole anchored each corner with clusters of chairs and chaise
lounges in different sizes awaiting their next show.

Instead of the orgy he expected, only two other fully
dressed couples were in attendance, lounging on the floor against huge crimson
and white throw pillows and sipping goblets of red wine. On the floor in front
of them lay a Twister board. Okay. Maybe they were a little kinky.

“Come on in, Captain.” Amaryllis winked. “We don’t bite.”

The man who approached him was most certainly Lucian
Kilsgaard. Standing at over six and a half feet tall, he had the same massive
build and freakishly good looks as the rest of his family. After Amaryllis made
the introductions, Marco found his hand engulfed between two massive paws.

“Captain DeWinter, it is good to meet you,” Kilsgaard said
with an accent that was reminiscent of his wife’s. Jesus, was it possible the
entire family was capable of being supers? “We can’t thank you enough for the
assistance you provided last year.”

“You’re welcome, but I was just doing my job. I saw that the
Chameleon and Fiona were married recently. Congratulations.” He kept his smile
pleasant as he waited for the verbal grenade to detonate.

The couple exchanged a quick glance and Lucian’s hands
stilled mid-handshake. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow. Fiona married my cousin
Dhavin. The Chameleon ended his relationship with Fiona after her rescue. He
felt she was safer without him in her life. She began dating my cousin sometime
thereafter.”

So that was their story. “Perhaps I was mistaken. Your
cousin is a similar size to the Chameleon, and I have to admit, I don’t meet
very many guys as big as the men in your family.”

“It’s genetics. The women in our family are very strong.
Have to be to birth us men.” Kilsgaard motioned to a seating area away from the
other couples and took a place on the couch. His wife tucked her feet beneath
her butt as she curled up at his side. “How can I assist you, Captain?”

Marco took a seat in a buttery leather chair across from the
lovey-dovey pair. “It appears as if masked crusaders are not exclusive to your
former hometown of Cedar. There’s a man running around interfering in police
work. I’ve been tasked to bring him in before someone gets hurt, or killed.”

“I have heard this is an issue most metropolises are facing
recently. Average citizens doing what they can to take back their streets. I
agree, it is a potentially dangerous situation.”

“Yes, but the man I’m looking for is not an average citizen.
Just like the Chameleon is not an average citizen. In fact, there is a lot
about the two men that is strikingly similar.”

There was a telltale widening of his eyes for a split
second, but his features remained politely interested. “Do you think they are
one and the same?”

“No, I don’t. But I wouldn’t be surprised if they knew of
each other. Were maybe even related.” Pussyfooting around was not his style.
Time to shoot for the bull’s-eye. “Tell me, Mr. Kilsgaard. Do you know if the
Chameleon may have any associates or relatives in the city?”

“None that I am aware of. Then again, the Chameleon is not
exactly what you would call a sharer. He’s a very private individual.”

“So I’ve gathered. Where were you the night of the tenth
between the hours of 11:15 p.m. and midnight?”

He arched a dark brow and his lips softened into a knowing
smirk. “I was at home with my wife.”

“And what were you doing?”

“Fucking,” Amaryllis answered and stroked her hand down her
husband’s chest. “It’s our usual routine. You can ask anyone in the building.
We aren’t exactly quiet.”

“I see.” Marco worked to clear his suddenly tight throat.
Great, now he’d have to live with that image burned into his brain for the rest
of his life. That was one hell of an alibi. And not one he’d want to question.
The answers would probably make him depressed.

He withdrew a business card from the inside of his jacket
pocket and handed it to Kilsgaard. “I’m sure if you ask your sister-in-law, she
will reiterate the importance of getting this vigilante off the street. I don’t
need to deal with a body count because someone took it upon themselves to take
police matters into their own hands. With this nightclub, you two have the
ability to keep your ear to the ground, so to speak. If you hear of anything
that can help me keep our streets safe, please, give me a call.”

“Of course, Captain.”

When Lucian pocketed the card, Marco stood. “Thank you for
your time. I can see myself out.”

Amaryllis followed him to the doorway. “Good luck, Captain.
I look forward to your next visit.”

The certainty in her statement sent warning bells through
his head. “What makes you so certain I’ll be back?”

“Do you not know The Cavern’s motto? All who enter receive
exactly what they need.”

His shoulders relaxed. “Well, I do need to catch this
criminal, so if information leads me back here, you bet I’ll be back.”

Her lyrical laughter made his breath catch and her palm
against his cheek was soft and warm. “No, Captain. Apprehending the vigilante
is what you want, not what you need. When you are ready, you’ll be back. Good
night.”

He watched her skip to her husband’s side with a serious
case of the creepazoids slithering down his spine. Yep, there was definitely
something strange going on with this family.

With the Kilsgaards occupied and no security guard on his
ass, Marco took his sweet time making his way to the exit. Of course he
believed the couple’s alibi for the night of the jewelry heist. If he had a
wife like Amaryllis, he’d never let her leave the bed either. But the two were
holding back information. He could almost smell it on them. If he kept his eyes
open, he was bound to strike gold.

Deep down in his gut, he knew that finding evidence on The
Hood wasn’t his only reason for poking his nose around the club. This place was
a trip and he was a red-blooded man who had only had his hand for a girlfriend
for far too long. If this was to be his only chance to walk around unattended,
damn straight he was going to take a gander at what exactly went down in The
Cavern.

Most of the doors he passed were shut, and the ones that
were opened led to empty rooms, save for some kinky-looking furniture.
Disappointing but not surprising. It was a weeknight, after all.

A hulking shadow stomped down the hall in his direction, and
Marco stepped to the side for the man to pass, only to do a double take as the
figure drew closer.

Black denim jacket over a hooded sweatshirt.

The stranger was at least as tall as Lucian Kilsgaard and
just as beefy with broad shoulders that appeared to span the width of the
walkway. They shared similar coloring and the same square-cut features that
reminded him of the comic book superheroes he read as a kid. The stern set of
the man’s jaw and intense focus of his gaze was a warning to all to get out of
the way or become a stain on the hardwood.

Motherfucker. This had to be his guy. Adrenaline spiked in
his body and made his muscles twitch to follow, but he held back, waiting
several heartbeats before setting off in the same direction. The video footage
of The Hood showed lightning-fast reflexes, and after Amaryllis Kilsgaard’s
spooky predictions, who knew what else this guy was capable of.

The Hood stepped into a vacant room and Marco held back,
pressing against the wall with his cell phone out and ready to make it appear
as if he were only another club-goer standing in the hall to send a text. Inch
by inch he crept closer to the door until he spotted his suspect rummaging
through an armoire. Strips of leather fell across his arm, swinging with his
movements as he stacked brightly colored bottles in the crook of his arm. From
a drawer he pulled out a long ream of condoms and held them between his teeth
as he reached for more supplies.