Ninety percent of the time, things are quiet at The Vault. Clients come in, the boys do their jobs, and all goes exactly the way it should. But every now and then, things get out of hand. I could feel the bad energy in the air as soon as I stepped onto the main floor tonight. Five of the cages have new guys on display, so some extra excitement is to be expected. That in itself isn’t usually enough to create any problems. However, when you add to that a group of rowdy venture capitalists who rarely travel together and are drunk as fuck, things are guaranteed to go bad.

Even though this is one of my unscheduled nights, I’m glad I’m here. I’ve got a great team who can handle any situation that comes up, but when shit happens, I feel better being on-site to deal with it. Although, with the way I’m getting pulled in every direction tonight, I’m seriously reconsidering that philosophy.

“Johnny!”

Fuck, now what?

“Yeah. I’m in here.” I haven’t even had a chance to sit down since arriving three hours ago, and it doesn’t look like now will be my opportunity. “What’s up?”

Aiden, the manager of the security team, walks in with one of the new guys in tears and with blood pouring from his nose. “Another situation, boss. Can he hang out in here while we deal with it?”

“What the fuck happened?” I approach both men and guide the young man to one of my guest chairs. “Carson, right? Have a seat.”

Aiden gives me the quick version of how Carson was in the process of being taken into a room with one of our guests when another guest tried offering more money for him. The two guys got into a scuffle, and someone’s fist went wide and managed to connect with Carson’s face. Poor kid looks terrified.

“Do you know who the guys are?” I pull a robe from the cabinet in my office and drape it around him since he’s naked except for a sheer jockstrap.

He shakes his head. “No, sorry.”

“It’s fine.” I pat his shoulder and feel bad when he flinches at my touch. “Just sit tight in here, and we’ll take care of it.” I turn to Aiden, my eyes mirroring the rage I see in his. “Get James to review the footage and text me the names. As soon as you can tell who landed the punch, I want to know ASAP.”

“Already on it, boss.” Aiden reaches for his phone then turns it so I can see the message from James displayed on the screen. “Looks like we have a couple winners. With a few taps to his smartphone, Aiden pulls up a short clip of two of our drunk investors practically playing tug-of-war with Carson before fists started to fly.

I recognize them both instantly.

I’ve already had to warn those pain-in-the-asses once tonight. They’re officially suspended as of now, and their membership may be revoked depending on how they handle their removal tonight. “Find out where they’re at.”

Aiden and I are halfway to the main floor when I get another text that I’m needed urgently in Room 5. “Goddamnit.” I turn to Aiden, showing him my phone. “Which do you want? The diaper scene in five or removing these two assholes?”

His eyes are glowing with bloodlust as he nods toward the main floor. “Carson is a good kid. I’ll handle those fuckers.”

God, I was afraid he’d say that. Out of all the kinks we cater to in this place, the diaper fetishes are the worst. I fucking hate watching my boys get put through that kind of humiliation. But no one is forced to do anything they really don’t want to do, and since those scenes generally earn twice the tips in a few hours, there are always a few volunteers when one of the “baby boys” request an appointment.

Thankfully, the situation there is just a misunderstanding and I’m heading back to my office within a few minutes. Unfortunately, I don’t make it because there’s a crowd gathering near the door to the lobby that’s quickly turning into a riot.

My phone blows up at the same time that the emergency lighting system kicks in and the entire building is flooded in white light. Whatever triggered our emergency response system can’t be good. I call James and start running toward the lobby. He must be watching me because the phone doesn’t even ring before he’s barking into my ear. “Get in there, boss. Shit’s going down.”

“What am I walking into?” I shoulder my way past the crowd. “Exits are on the left and right. Back away from this door.”

A few people start to back off, heading toward the clearly marked Emergency Exit directional signs placed on all the walls of the room.

“Aiden and his guys are fighting off that mob of frat boys. Metro’s on his way.”

Fuck, this is so not what I need tonight. “Thanks, James. Keep me posted.”

Michael Metroia is a cop with the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department...and a long-time client of The Vault. We call him Metro because when we need cops, he’s our first choice. If he needs reinforcements, he knows who to bring in. Most of the guys on the force know about what we do out here and don’t bother us. But when shit like this goes down, it’s harder for them to look the other way.

Clearing my mind of all things police related, I open the lobby door and step into hell.

James wasn’t exaggerating when he said it was a bunch of frat boys. Those drunk assholes must have called in their drunk ass buddies because at least seven guys are trying to take down three of my best men.

It’s not working.

I feel kinda bad for these assholes but it’s their own damn fault for coming here completely wasted. We make it very clear in the terms of service that all clients must maintain control of themselves and their guests at all times. If these idiots thought they were gonna come fuck around with my stable and my staff, they had another thing coming.

I roll my shoulders forward a few times and then back, getting ready to jump in. My team has the group pretty well controlled, but I don’t want them to have all the fun. With the night I’ve had, I need to let off a little steam too. I used to do that by fucking. But having such easy access actually makes you want sex even less.

So kicking some punk’s ass will have to do.

I don’t regret jumping into that fight. It was kinda fun to spar for real, especially since several of those guys had gotten mouthy with me earlier in the night. What I do regret is not blocking a blow to my left cheek in time to avoid a black eye and slightly blurred vision.

I took the day off to let my eye rest, but that hasn’t worked. And over the past forty-eight hours, it’s just gotten worse. A lot worse.

Tanner stopped by yesterday to check on me and is now insisting I see a doctor before going back to work. But I fucking hate doctors.

Especially the kind of doctors who want to mess with my eyeballs.

I’ve only had a few eye exams in my whole life, and I’ve hated every one of them. Just the thought of someone touching my eyeball makes me shiver in disgust. But if there’s any real damage to my eye, I need to get it taken care of sooner rather than later. The reason I hate eye doctors is because I have a fear of being blind. I’ve made it this far in life with 20/20 vision. I don’t plan to let some drunk asshole take that away from me just because I’m too afraid to see a doctor.

After a quick Yelp search to find the best optometrists in Vegas, I start my comparisons. The office I went to a few years ago when I was getting headaches all the time has a 4.6 rating, and the listing says they take drop-ins.

That’ll have to do. I can’t spend another night cooped up in this house all alone.

Afraid or not, I’m going to the eye doctor.