The Lord of Bonetown Ch. 01

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine, believe me! Haven't had fun like this in... well, a long time!"

"Is this your first time in Boonton?"

"Yes, it is, why?"

"Means you haven't seen everything we have to offer yet," Bryce smirked. "And make sure you stay hydrated!"

Both men laughed and parted their ways, Rowan going back to his women, Bryce - to the main dance floor, throwing glances at the booths circling the pool area. Some of them were already taken, men and women doing a different kind of dance. Splashes, squeals and laughter can be heard all over - the pool was being heavily used too.

By the time he finished his patrol, reaching the stage, a lot more bare flesh was on display than in the beginning. There was no inhibitions among the guests - everybody knew exactly why they came here, some of them even flying in from Los Angeles and New York to fuck or get fucked. Come dawn, all guests and a decent portion of staff will get laid. Initially, Bryce wasn't sure about the format of sex rave, but Bobby truly made these events shine.

Speak of the devil. Bobby stalked up to him.

"Feel this, boss? Everything smells like raw dripping cunt. Fuck I love this moment!" And he was gone again, heading backstage. Second part of the show was about to start.

In a minute, music softly faded out, then Bobby's voice boomed from the speakers again.

"Ladies, gentlemen and enbys! Without further ado... I give you... The Bloodhound Gang!"

Bobby was really good at his job. The crowd went wild, girls rushing closer to the stage, most of them baring their tits for Jimmy. Bryce chuckled. That fucker, he didn't even tell me he invited The Gang!

He turned his back to the stage and scanned the crowd, basking in the raw sexual energy washing over him like a tide. He spotted Rowan, with a drink in his hand, clearly enjoying the show as much as the attention of two barely dressed ladies close to him. The man brought the glass to his lips and took a sip. His smile disappeared and eyes went blank.

Oh fuck. Bryce grabbed one of the waitresses passing by.

"Medkit, now!" He barked, darting to Rowan who was slowly, like in slow-mo, falling to the ground. The glass rolled out of his hand, drink spilling. Bryce dropped to his knees and put his ear to Rowan's face. Not breathing. He put two fingers on the vein on his neck. Pulse is still there but slowing down.

Ken slammed the medkit on the ground beside them, popping it open, and Bryce grabbed the testing stripes, throwing two of those into the puddle that was Rowan's drink, watching one of them turn purple horrifyingly fast.

"Fucking fen!"

Ken handed him Narcan spray, and Bryce gave Rowan two doses, before hesitating for a moment and stabbing his bicep with epipen. Rowan jolted, inhaled sharply and went into a weak coughing fit. Two guardsmen loaded the nearly unconscious man onto a stretcher they brought and swiftly carried him to the security van, already parked near the entrance with back doors open.

"Ken." Bryce was following the stretcher, fists clenched, people getting out of his way quickly.

"On it, boss." No instructions were needed.

A minute later, the convoy started off the parking lot to the jumpy chorus of 'Foxtrot Unicorn Charlie Kilo', sung by the crowd. Well, FUCK indeed. Hope not a lot of people noticed.

-//-

The ER team was already waiting for them outside with a gurney - Bryce called ahead - when the van and the Charger rolled into Mercy Hospital parking lot. Nurses quickly loaded Rowan onto the gurney and rolled him inside, the resident shouting orders to the staff. Bryce dismissed his guardsmen with a wave of his hand and stomped inside, following Rowan.

"What's this then?" A commanding voice stopped him. "You can't go in there, Spartan!"

He turned on his heels, ending face to face with Dr. Maisie Coulter, the head of ER. The posh Brit redhead was one of the top trauma surgeons in the country, and a total knockout, appearance-wise. Bryce made sure she was comfortable in Boonton, as many other medical professionals - outstanding healthcare was an extremely important part of the package he offered to his employees.

"I need to see him," he grumbled.

"No, you don't. You already did what you could, now don't get in the way of my people," she crossed her arms under her breasts, pushing them up, and gave Bryce a stern look, making him deflate.

"Pulling a graveyard shift, doc?" He wearily sat on the bench in the hallway.

"Surprised? Not everyone's life is an endless party, Decker. Care to tell me what happened?"

"Fentanyl OD. Somebody spiked his drink with a dose big enough to kill two."

Coulter's eyes went wide.

"At your party? Somebody's either too stupid, or too bold. Or both. How do you plan on tracking the sumbitch? You have what, five hundred guests tonight? Plus staff?"

"My guys know their job, Maisie, they will..."

His phone interrupted him mid-sentence, and he pulled the device out of the hidden pocket inside the armor. 'Bobby' it said.

"Go, Bobby," Bryce said, putting the phone to his ear.

"You're on speaker, boss, Ken is here too. So, guess what - it was that fucking moody bitch Vanessa!"

"Lock her up until morning. Search her apartment and everything she touched today. Dig all her shit up. Interview everybody she'd worked with since her arrival, even if you have to wake them up. I'll be in the office first thing in the morning."

"Got it, boss," boys said in unison. Bryce hung up and turned to Coulter, whose eyes were now even wider.

"You were saying?"

"God damn, Bryce, but how?"

"Every glass has an encrypted RFID chip embedded in the bottom. If you don't know it's there, you'll never find it, but chips make it really easy to track drinks movement - and people along with them - through our surveillance system. Ken came up with that idea, specifically for cases like this. Not that it ever happened before at my parties."

Coulter smiled and patted him on his bare knee.

"You have a great team, Spartan. Honestly, I'm a bit jealous that I'm not a part of it."

"Careful, doc, I don't have plans on buying out the hospital any time soon," he chuckled. "Don't twist my arm."

Doors to the ER opened, letting out the resident, a young lean black guy.

"Mister Decker, mister Rowan is stable, we're moving him to the ICU for observation until morning. He's going to be okay."

"Thank you, doc." Doctor nodded and went back.

"You should go back to the party, Bryce," Coulter nudged him. Bryce stood up and stretched, raising his hands upward, probably a bit too high, because the good doctor suddenly turned her head away and blushed. Shit, underwear. Oh well.

"Nah," he exhaled. "My night is ruined already, I better go get some sleep."

"Too bad my shift doesn't end until six."

"What?" He turned to her.

"What?" She raised her eyebrows at him.

Bryce grinned and shook his finger at her, then turned to the exit.

"One of these days, Maisie, one of these days..."

-//-

Bryce didn't go home though, deciding to crash in his apartment downtown. He'd bought it several years back when the mansion construction started and he needed a place to live. Nice small apartment complex was located within walking distance from the main office, with C&C right in the middle of the shortest route. The place wasn't big compared to the house, just three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, a kitchen and a balcony, but, as he regretfully admitted to himself, felt more like home.

Dropping the costume pieces on the floor and promising himself to hang and pack them tomorrow, he took a quick shower and crashed on the queen sized bed. 'If it's urgent, I'm at the Glades' he sent to Bobby via Signal, turned the sound off and closed his eyes.

Eyes close, eyes open, seven hours gone. Nobody knocked on his door at night, meaning they sorted it out without him, for better or worse. He rummaged inside his closet, finding some clothes and shoes to wear, and headed out, slowly driving the Charger through the quiet morning streets.

Coffee & Cigarettes was already open but empty, with Larissa, a short busty barista, behind the counter, scrolling her 'Gram feed. She was yawning wide, threatening to dislocate her jaw - a clear sign of a busy night.

"Morning, boss," she stood up straight when he entered, still yawning, and went about making his usual cappuccino.

"Morning, Ris," he sat at the counter. "You stayed up till the end?"

"Nah, I was sore everywhere by 2am," she giggled. "How's the guy doing?"

So everybody noticed the commotion.

"He's okay." Bryce didn't go into details - no need to spread rumors. He grabbed his coffee and the ham and cheese sandwich Larissa made for him and headed out, but stopped in the door.

"Ris, if you're too out of it, feel free to close down early. It's gonna be a slow day anyway."

"Thanks, boss," she grinned and waved him goodbye.

-//-

The boys were already waiting for him at the front entrance, Bobby nervous, Ken gloomy. Bryce frowned, getting out of the car, coffee and sandwich bag in hand.

"Somebody died, boys?" Seeing Bobby open his mouth to respond, Bryce cut him short. "Not here."

Once inside his office, Bobby closed the door, making sure nobody was standing outside.

"Paranoid, Bobby?" Bryce circled his desk, putting coffee and sandwich aside, and picked up a manila envelope they've left for him. "What's this?"

Bobby and Ken exchanged glances.

"'s all there, boss, everything we've foond. Look fer yeself," Ken rumbled.

Bryce sat in his chair, while the boys remained standing near the door, as if waiting to defend the room from assault, and opened the envelope. Several printed pages, clearly taken from different databases, and a disposable flip phone. He took the stack of papers and began reading, frowning more and more after each page. Finally, he stuffed them back into the envelope, closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, exhaling. It's barely breakfast time and I'm so fucking tired already.

"Everything else we'd foond is in tha evidence bag in me safe - two more doses o' fen, and her clothes wit traces o' tha shit," Ken added. "All videos of her backed up, hard copies in tha safe too."

"Where is she?" Bryce asked, not opening his eyes.

"Basement, boss. Me boys kept an eye on her all night," Ken responded.

"Bring her in."

Ken typed a quick message on his phone, and a couple minutes later the door opened, letting in Vanessa accompanied by two guardsmen.

"Take a seat, girl," Bryce pointed at the chair.

She slowly and carefully sat at the edge of a large visitor chair, looking scared and visibly shaking, and he took a better look at her. Vanessa was conventionally beautiful - ideal face with big dark eyes and puffy lips, perfect body proportions, tiny waist, wide hips, nice tits, round and perky. But something felt off, and the more he looked at her, the less he understood how this woman was able to land a job with his company.

"So, tell me, what the fuck were you thinking? I mean, spiking a guy's drink with a lethal dose of fentanyl is hardly a smart move. Help me here, I'm just trying to understand. What's your angle, Vanessa, or should I say... Special Agent Anna Greene?"

Her facial expression and body language changed instantly. Gone was her tired and scared look, Anna leaned back in the chair, crossed her legs and looked at him with poorly disguised contempt.

"You done fucked up, Decker. We're going to lock you up for life," she spat.

Bryce chuckled.

"This is the weakest bluff, if I have ever seen one. A desperate bluff. And I know why you are desperate, Anna. You spent what, three months with us? You had enough time to see the company is perfectly - squeaky - clean. Everything is legally licensed, taxes paid, working conditions are perfect, healthcare, mental care, weekly checkups, employees are even allowed to unionize, should they want that," he circled the desk and sat on it right in front of her. "And desperate people do stupid shit. Like staging a narc incident in hopes it will give them leverage to launch a full-scale investigation into my business. Have I been right so far?"

She didn't respond, just scoffed and glared daggers at him.

"And you weren't working alone, someone is covering for you back at the office. Here," he tapped the envelope. "...we have printouts of your convos from your second phone, pretty heated ones, some of them. So whoever you're working with, he's not only your superior, you fuck him too. Does FBI HR know about this?"

He pulled one of the sheets from the envelope.

"And some of them are downright offensive, Anna. Like this one - 'BD doesn't suspect shit'. This one is true though - I didn't suspect you. I try to treat my people like friends at the very least, if not family," he threw the paper back to the desk and stood up.

"You know what else BD stands for? Big Dick," he made a movement to unzip his jeans. "Hold her tight, boys, ass up."

The guardsmen turned Anna's kicking and screaming form over and held her in place in the chair while Bryce slowly approached. In one swift motion he tore her shorts in half, then did the same with her panties, baring her neithers from clit to the tailbone.

"I'm gonna fucking ruin you, Decker, you fucking piece of shit! And everybody who's working for you! I'm gonna go public about everything you do, you motherfucker! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO ME?!" Anna was screaming loud enough for the entire block to hear - if the office wasn't soundproofed, that is.

"Okay boys, you can let her go," Bryce stood up and threw the marker back onto his desk.

"The fuck did you do to me?!" She jumped off the chair and turned her backside to the large mirror on the wall. 'FED' was written across her cheeks in bold black permanent.

He walked up to her and grabbed her face, holding her jaw in his huge hand.

"You hoped I'm gonna rape you and implicate myself? Here's a bit of my DNA for you, you stupid cunt," he growled. His face scrunched and he spat in her face, then threw her to the floor.

"You are fired for violation of your contract, Vanessa, effective this minute. You don't get severance, your insurance will not be extended. Also, the fact that you've tried to fuck me over makes you fair game - for anything and everything. In less than half an hour the entire town will know."

The look of true horror crossed her face and she scrambled for the door.

"Escort her off the premises, boys. Her personal effects will remain with the company as collateral," he nodded to the guardsmen, who grabbed Anna by her arms and dragged her out of the office. As soon as the door behind the three closed, he turned to Bobby and Ken who watched the entire scene unfold without a sound.

"Ken, please make sure she leaves town unharmed. Last thing we need is a bunch of feds sniffing around because of a rape-murder investigation."

"Nae worries, boss. Naebody wull titch her, fowk 'ere smart enough noo t' shit on yer lawn," Ken walked out.

"You know, Decker... you play this ruthless motherfucker role too good. I nearly forgot you're actually a good guy!" Bobby threw his hands up.

"Reminds you of someone?" Bryce smirked.

"Hey!" Bobby pointed a finger at him. "Italian-American doesn't mean gangster, that's a stereotype invented by popular culture!"

"Don't give me that bullshit, Bobby. Besides, I don't care," he returned to his desk, grabbed his already cold coffee and put his feet on the desk. "How did the party go afterwards?"

"Oh, you know, as expected. The Gang had a blast, went back to the hotel in a bus full of groupies. Pool cleaning will take a couple days, as usual, you know - pipes clogged with gallons of cum," he chuckled, then suddenly went serious. "Boss... do you think this is coming back to bite us in the ass?"

Bryce sighed.

"Rowan will probably take the biggest bite. I can't even begin to imagine the number of zeroes on the cheque in his name to make all this go away. But then again - the federal government will probably cover that one, with all the dirt we have on that fed cunt, including the actual porn she did. But we're not using it unless we absolutely have to."

He took the last sip, then threw the paper cup into the bin.

"I need fifteen to decompress, then I'm going back to Mercy to see how our guy is doing."

"Got it, boss, I'll leave you alone," Bobby disappeared.

Bryce closed his eyes and threw his head back to the headrest. I should probably announce a day off for the entire company. Let people unwind, make everyone happy - two days off in a row after a grand party. Yeah, that's what I'm going to do, right now. He opened his eyes and reached for his laptop, when Bobby stuck his head in the door again.

"Hey boss, sorry to interrupt your whatever, but this Rowan guy... he's already here and wants to talk!" Bobby shrugged.

"Well, fuck..." Bryce threw his hands up. "Show him in, will ya?"

Bobby disappeared, and he stood up, inwardly bracing for impact. The door swung open, and Rowan emerged in the doorway, positively beaming and looking no worse for wear, dressed in loose slacks, leather loafers and the whitest silk kurta with golden embroidery.

"Bryce, my friend! Good morning to you!" He quickly crossed the office and locked dumbfounded Bryce into a friendly hug. Despite being a good foot higher and at least fifty pounds heavier, Bryce felt the air leaving his lungs - the man was surprisingly strong. Finally, Rowan leaned back and looked into his eyes, patting him on the shoulder and smiling.

"Hell of a party, eh? Too bad I didn't see the end of it!"

"Good to see you too, Rowan," Bryce cautiously started. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, don't worry about me, my friend, it's not my first bout with opioid substances. To tell the truth, I haven't had this kind of fun since 1976, when I shared a wonderful acid trip with Andy Warhol, which sent me running naked in the middle of Manhattan," he plopped into the visitor chair, still smiling.

Bryce chuckled.

"Forgive my disbelief, Rowan, but aren't you a bit too young to have been partying with Warhol?"

"Ah yes, sorry, I completely forgot," he made several complicated movements with his hands in the air. "Better take care of this now, so everything else I say doesn't come off as utter insanity."

Bryce blinked. Rowan stayed in the chair and almost nothing has changed about him - except for the second pair of arms and a bright blue third eye right in the center of his forehead. Bryce blinked again, but Rowan didn't turn back into human again.

"I guess, proper introductions are in order now. I'll go first," he stood up. "King Rowan, Fourteenth of His name, Lord Protector of Arcadia, Kingdom of The Seventh Celestial Sphere."

He finished with a slight bow, pressing both his left hands to the chest, and looked at Bryce expectantly.

"Well? Your turn now."

One might think it took all of Bryce's willpower not to drop on his ass, but between the prior evening, the fed debacle and all kinds of weirdness he came across in his years of doing business this one didn't surprise him - much. Weirdly enough, he even felt relieved.

"Bryce Decker," he shrugged.

"No, no," Rowan waved his hand dismissively. "You, my friend, are a royalty, even if you don't understand it yet, so act like it!"

This is fucking stupid.

"King Bryce of clan Decker, First of His name, Lord Protector of Boonton, Kingdom of Colorado," he tried to repeat the bow, feeling like an absolute clown.

But Rowan was ecstatic.

"There you go! A high meeting between two Majesties! A celebration is in order!"

Yeah, I definitely need a drink right now.