Page 13 of Secret (Chicago Underground 6)
I felt invincible.
“That’s the adrenaline talking,” Luke muttered, and I realized I had spoken aloud. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Right, adrenaline. Except it already was in my head, in my body, rushing through my veins like a sweet hit of coke. I had done drugs a few times. There were men who wanted to get high and wanted the girl to ride it with them. The crash at the end had never been enough to make me want to repeat the experience without a paycheck to help me bounce back.
This racy, jittery feeling was just like shooting up. I wondered if adrenaline had a crash at the end too. But who cared when it felt this good? It felt surreal, and that kept me safe.
We crept through the quiet hallways. Where was everyone?
Major motioned with his hand. Up the stairs.
We started to climb when Luke paused. He put a hand to his ear. “Shit,” he muttered.
“I love it when you say that during sex.”
Major gave me a strange look.
“Not you,” I assured him.
He rolled his eyes. “You are flying high.”
“Almost,” I whispered.
Luke pressed a hand to his ear, listening. “They need backup,” he whispered. “Major, you go.”
Major firmed his lips, as if he wanted to protest. But he didn’t have a choice. With a salute and a faint look of regret in his eyes, he was gone.
“Come on.” Luke waved me to follow him.
We crept down the hallway, hearing men and women moan and groan and cry out in questionable pleasure.
He looked back at me.
I shook my head. Henri didn’t moan. He shouted. And anyway, I didn’t really expect to find him in these upper rooms. He rarely took his prostitutes to bed. This wasn’t a party to him, unlike Major had thought. This was business. This whole setup was too dirty, too common for him. Despite that, I couldn’t shake the eerie feeling, as if he would be here, exactly where he would never be. It didn’t make sense, but I wanted the feeling to go away. I wanted to see Rico and Major and Jeff again.
“Downstairs,” I mouthed.
Luke nodded his agreement, and we slid along the wall the way we’d come.
From the stairwell came the raucous sound of male laughter and female giggling. I looked back and saw nothing but rows of doors. Trapped. Their footsteps climbed the staircase, banging along the sides, as they tumbled about in wild sexual abandon. At least he did. Her laughs were obviously fake, way too high-pitched and evenly spaced. They reached the top landing. I held my breath. Then it was pushed out of me in a whoosh as Luke slammed me inside the closest room.
He was on me, pulling off my clothes. My hand was caught, but it didn’t matter—he yanked it free, the whole shirt whipping over my head along with my bra, tumbling my hair from its ponytail. I gasped into his mouth, trying to catch up, but I couldn’t. He was moving too fast, climbing onto the bed, dragging my body beneath his as if I were prey and he a tiger gone in for the kill. His mouth glued itself to mine, taking away any sound as he settled between my legs, the hard ridge of his erection a blatant message that his lips hadn’t had time to speak. He rocked against me, and it hurt. I wasn’t ready, wasn’t aroused, but already my body prepared itself to receive him, well practiced in this, growing wet and swollen, supple flesh to be speared repeatedly. His hands were all over me, my waist, my arms, my sides—but not my breasts.
The door slammed open, and two very drunk, possibly high people stumbled into the room. Luke finally released me, looking up. I panted audibly.
“Ocupado,” Luke said in a guttural tone.
“Sorry, man,” the guy said. They both backed out of the room, closing the door behind them.
We collapsed on the bed for long minutes after they left.
“Okay,” I said, still panting. “I see what you did there.”
He let out a breath. “He’s not in this building, is he?”
“Don’t think so.” I felt a little woozy. The ceiling made lazy swirls above us, like a big upside-down bowl of batter. Allie was a baker. She loved to bake all sorts of things. I wasn’t as good as her, but under her direction, I could whip up a batch of cookies. That’s what this looked like, chocolate caramel cookies with streaks of beige and dots of black. Or was that the exposed pipes in the ceiling? It was hard to say. And all these thoughts about food were making me want to throw up.
“Damn.” Luke’s voice sounded far away. “I just assumed because there were so many. We’ve got to try the next one.”
