Behind the Mask, Chapter 17 [fm] [Incest] [Cousin/Cousin]

[Chapter 16](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/rj5taz/behind_the_mask_chapter_16_fm_incest_cousincousin/)

Chloroform’s a bitch.

I was still a little groggy when I came to, groaning as I stirred. I heard movement as I opened my eyes, and I wondered if I was still alive. Maybe I’d been shot in the head for my antics.

“Lexi!” How strange. That was Brie’s voice. My vision focused, and there she was, blue eyes wide and staring into my face, concern written all over hers. “Take it easy, okay?”

“She awake?” came Drew’s voice, and Stef was by Brie’s side in an instant, awash with relief. Past the twins, I saw Coco and Leon get to their feet.

My head started pounding, and as I tried to sit up I felt my stomach heave. “I feel sick,” I managed through clenched teeth.

“Bucket!” Stef called, and his voice made my head throb. I doubled over the edge of my couch, and Stef slid a bucket under me just in time for me to vomit into it. Thankfully Brie held my hair, and I groaned and spat out the last of the bile before collapsing back onto the couch.

“Alright, alright, give her some space,” Coco murmured gently. The others backed away, letting her approach with a glass of water. I gulped it down gratefully, then whimpered as I tried to make the pounding in my head stop. I felt a wet rag on my forehead. Cherry was wiping away the sweat.

“What are you all doing here?” I rasped, squinting at the ceiling.

“Sabrina had a bad feeling about where you were going tonight. Then Drew told us everything,” Leon explained. “We rushed over here, and then your assistant told us everything else.”

“Nobody can keep a damn secret,” I muttered. “Where is he?”

“Your assistant?” I grunted an affirmative. “Somewhere deep in the club. If you’re thinking of going anywhere though, you can forget it, young lady.”

“Ooh,” I crooned, though it came out more like a rattle. “Cherry, would you mind sharing your dad?”

“Not if it’s for what I think it’s for,” she said with a tight pout. I chuckled.

“In that case, help me up.”

“Lexi,” Coco chided. “You really shouldn’t–”

The twins slowly pulled me to my feet, and I took a moment to regain my balance before looking around the room. There was hardly any trace of my altercation with Muerte. Everything had been cleaned up, and the only evidence were the small rings of smashed ballistic glass of the snake enclosure. My people had already removed the bullets, and I shuffled over. Artemis slithered into view, looking at me steadily.

“Ho, shit,” Stef said, backing up a step before recovering. Brie was seemingly frozen with a death grip on my arm. I shrugged her off and put a hand to the glass, and Artemis lowered her head to my hand.

“Good girl,” I murmured.

“You have a giant snake?” Cherry breathed, keeping her distance. I turned and smirked at her as she stared at Artemis in terror. “That’s… That’s badass.”

“Can somebody send a ping on the intercom please?”

Drew was standing by the desk, and he looked down at the controls. “Yellow button?”

I nodded, and within seconds a woman stepped in. Neatly dressed, her hair in a bun, her black attire trimmed with violet. “Alain,” I uttered.

“He’s in Cell A, Miss R,” she answered.

“That means there’s a Cell B,” I heard Drew point out.

By now I’d regained my faculties and stood on my own. I turned to my friends. “All of you, stay here. I know we have a lot to talk about, but I have some business to take care of first.”

“Absolutely not. I’m coming with you,” Brie said firmly.

“Have you seen a man in more than one piece before?” I asked, and she hesitated. “Stay here.”

Coco took Brie by the shoulders and spoke to her as I left. I followed my employee as she led the way into my dungeon. Yes, I had dungeons. How fucking cool was that? It wasn’t some European fantasy dungeon affair though. In fact, they weren’t much different from our guest suites. A bit less luxurious, perhaps.

We arrived at Cell A and the woman opened the door for me. Inside, the room was stripped bare except for a few aluminum tables and a frame with chains that was typically used for BDSM. Surprise, it’s perfect for chaining up your enemies too. Sat at one of the tables with his back to us was Alain, who stood as I entered. He had two men with him for protection, as was protocol. And strung up in front of us was our good old buddy Muerte himself.

“*Mademoiselle,*” Alain gasped. “*Dieu merci,* you are un’armed.” He walked over and cupped my face protectively, looking me up and down with worry. It was hard to know what to feel. He was like the dad I should’ve had, and yet he was also working behind my back. I decided to let myself enjoy the solace of being safe in the face of what could have been.

“I’m glad Code Red worked,” I said, and he nodded. “Really hope we never have to use it again,” I added more sourly, and he nodded again. He let me go, and I walked around him and the table for a better look at Muerte. He was stripped down to his underwear, and other than looking about as crap as I did, he was likewise unharmed. “Did he give us anything?”

“Nothing, *mademoiselle.*”

“Where are the others?”

“In the other cells, *mademoiselle.* Untouched, as you ordered.”

“Good. Then let’s begin.” One of the men pulled up an aluminum chair for me, and I sat.

Muerte seemed to float into lucidity, eyes focusing on me. He launched into a string of Spanish, most likely calling me feminine expletives and cursing me to be violated or sent to hell or whatever.

When he was done, I simply replied with, “Where’s the real Muerte?”

He seemed dumbfounded, then he howled with laughter. “I’ll never tell you, *chingada puta!* He’s still out there, and you’re as good as dead!”

I just shook my head and sighed. “You really were stupid enough to walk in here yourself, huh? Probably why your fellow *jinetes* were so ready to see you gone.” Muerte frowned, unsure whether to believe me. I waved to my men, and they brought a tablet over. Video calling cartel leaders; I almost laughed out loud. “Which makes sense. You’re willing to work for equally stupid *gringos* like… Damn, what was his name? Frank Bernthal? Curtis Moore? William Barnes?”

At the mention of Barnes, Muerte’s eyes widened, and I snorted. Amateur. This guy had actually wanted to play games with me? What a joke. Now all I needed was final confirmation.

Hambruna’s face appeared on the tablet, and she grinned. “*La Cazadora.* I must admit, I’m surprised to see you still alive, *chica.*”

“Not only am I alive, but I have one of your *eses* here with me. Say hello.” I turned the camera so Hambruna could see Muerte in chains, and she whistled.

“That ain’t no regular *ese, chica.* That’s Muerte himself.”

“I know,” I said with a grin. “Just checking.”

“*¡Puta madre!*” Muerte screamed, and Hambruna chuckled.

“So, we still good on our deal, *chica?* You send Muerte back in a box, and we’ll keep the streets clean for your little town.”

“Of course. Although I might be sending him back in jars. Is that a dealbreaker?” My gaze swept back up to Muerte, and suddenly he didn’t seem quite so brave.

“Damn, *chica,*” Hambruna laughed. “You send him back however you like. Just leave his face so we know it’s him.”

“Pleasure doing business with you,” I said, then hung up. One of the men took the tablet, and I stood and walked over to a table on the side. “Now, Muerte. You gotta pay for trying to kill me. Unfortunately for you, I don’t really like using any of these.” I perused the table of torture instruments; pliers, hooks, saws, trocars. “I prefer using something closer to home.” I picked up a box grater and walked back in front of Muerte. He saw the grater and immediately began struggling against his restraints.

“Wait… Please… Don’t…” he gasped.

“Like you would’ve with me, right?” I murmured, holding the grater out. One of my men took it and approached Muerte. “You heard the woman. Leave his face. Maybe start with his legs and work your way up.”

The man named Death was already screaming before the door closed behind me.

—

“I always told Brie you were filming us,” Stef sighed. I couldn’t bear to meet Brie’s eyes with how she was looking at me. Like I had violated her trust in the sickest way imaginable. Which I had. Stef looked disappointed but not surprised. Coco was wrapped up in Drew’s arms, and surprisingly Leon was more upset than Cherry. He likewise had Cherry in a tight protective embrace while she sorted through her feelings.

“The club makes sense now,” Brie uttered. “How she knew about it. Why she brought us. That we got in. She was just toying with us.”

“This was never a game to me,” I said firmly. My own words came back to haunt me: *Everything is a game.* “This was always about love.”

“Love?” Brie scoffed. She shook her head, tears in her eyes.

After a long moment, Coco finally spoke up. “I believe her.”

“Why?”

She hesitated, looking at me before continuing. “There are some things about Lexi that you don’t know–”

“That’s an understatement,” Leon interjected.

“–but when she says she did all this in the name of love, I believe her. It’s just… It’s not for me to tell.”

Everybody turned to me expectantly. I chuckled humorlessly once. “Oh jeez. I was in love with my cousin. He died. Now I do this.” Even such a brief and lifeless summary made my heart ache.

“That’s it?” Brie said. A fist wrapped around my heart and ripped it out of my chest. A small gasp escaped me as I finally met Brie’s gaze, eyes filling with tears. In an instant, she reached out to me with an apologetic look before stopping herself and staring at the ground in shame. Any anger amongst them seemed to dissipate, leaving us in silence again.

“Well,” Drew finally said. “No matter her motives, we all owe our current relationships to her. Great or small, we all needed a push to be with our partners, and it was Lexi who was there to push us, and make things go as smoothly as possible to boot.” Stef grunted contemplatively, and Leon looked deep in thought as well. “We trusted Lexi before, and she’d never failed us. And she’s assured me that any footage of us is for her eyes only. She doesn’t sell it or share it. So… I think Mom and I are ready to trust her again.” Coco nodded her agreement. “For everything she’s done for us, I’m kinda okay with paying this small price.”

I expected the girls to take a little more time to come around, but it seemed that the worst of the fallout was behind us. I gave Drew a small grateful smile, and he shrugged with a smirk.

“Well, either way, she’s had a long day,” Coco announced, before adding to Leon, “And we have work tomorrow. We should get going and give her some space.”

As everybody began filing out of my office, Brie stopped in front of me, hands fidgeting in front of her.

“Hey. Um… I’m sorry–”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m sorry for not telling you.”

She managed a small smile before reaching out and hugging me. “Friends?”

“Best friends.”

When she pulled away, she was beaming through tears. I laughed and wiped them away. Then from the side, Cherry gave me a hug as well.

“Just don’t forget, stay away from my man, okay?” the little redhead reminded sternly.

“Yeah,” Brie agreed, and I laughed.

“Yeah, I know the rules. Look, don’t touch.”

“Hm. And don’t look too much,” Cherry finished with a wry smirk.

“I’ll do my best,” I said with a grin, and the three of us hugged again.

Once they were all gone, I slumped in my chair, fingers to my forehead. I’d have to use a gas other than chloroform to pump into the room during Code Red. This hangover fucking sucked. Needed something that was faster-acting while still doing minimal damage to the body. Maybe I could ask August for some suggestions–

Fuck. August. Right. I groaned and slouched even lower in my chair. I needed to make up with him if I could. I’d called him Jordan on purpose to make sure he was nowhere near me when all that shit with Muerte went down, in case everything went sideways. That, and to take his mind off how much of a last day our last day together felt.

Maybe he was better off without me. I’d hurt him so much with just a word. Who knew what else I could do to him, given the opportunity? Holding onto him was selfish.

But I’d already done so much for other people. All my friends, all my patrons. I wanted to be selfish, just once. Couldn’t I just have this one thing? This one inch of happiness?

God, I was exhausted. My eyes drooped as sleep lapped at me like waves on the beach. I just wanted to be happy. It just never seemed to be in the cards.

—

I woke up with a blanket on me, a cup of tea still steaming on my desk. It was hard to hate Alain when he was so thoughtful. I sat up and stretched, then sipped my tea. I needed a shower.

I stepped into my private bathroom, reserved for when I spent the night at the club. The hot water running over my body was a boon, and I felt better after last night. What was on the docket? Had to deal with Barnes, that little fucker. Had to make up with August. He probably wasn’t going to answer my calls, so I had to ambush him.

And there was something else that was gnawing at me. Something I felt I had missed. Was it a Barnes thing or an August thing? August, I think. What was it? I got out of the shower and dried off, got dressed, drying my hair as I went through the stuff on my desk. I found myself looking at August’s file. Something here… was staring me in the face.

I pressed the button on the intercom. “Alain, I want a tail on August. Find him, don’t lose him.”

“*Oui, mademoiselle.*”

I sifted through the documents and landed on his medical records. We knew Charles was the mysterious benefactor, so what more was there to find?

*How about all the black ink on the document, dumbass?*

There were several fields regarding his heart transplant that were struck out, redacted. I frowned and read carefully. Why had I just glossed over this before? I’d written it off as irrelevant, focusing instead on the mastermind. But now that that was solved, I came back to this. Why was information on a transplant redacted? Was a CIA agent involved or something? That was ridiculous.

Only three pieces of information about the transplant that didn’t directly pertain to August weren’t redacted. The donor’s blood type, the date of the operation, and… the name of the surgeon. I held the document up, staring at it. Barnes would have to wait. I had to figure this out.

—

“Doctor Bernard?” I inquired.

He looked up in surprise. His hair was just beginning to grey in a horseshoe balding pattern, and he had a bit more meat on his bones than average. Clean-shaven and quite neat, I must say. “Yes? I just finished a bypass, so I’m afraid I’m not–”

“I’m not a patient,” I declared, entering his office and taking a seat. Alain, who had insisted on coming with me, stood by the door after closing it. It made me wonder if he was here to stop me from discovering anything I was looking for.

Doctor Bernard eyed us cautiously before continuing. “Then what is this about, may I ask?”

“It’s about a heart transplant you performed five years ago. This one.” I placed the file on his desk, and he looked it over. His eyes widened before he put it back down.

“This was five years ago,” he stammered. “I’m afraid I don’t remember anything about that. I’m sorry.”

“You know I don’t believe that for a second,” I said levelly.

“Believe what you want,” he responded indignantly.

I pulled out a stack of cash and began leafing hundred dollar bills one by one onto his desk. He watched me nervously, eyes darting between me and the money.

“Ready to talk?”

“I– I can’t.”

“Why? Memory still not jogged enough?”

“I was paid a lot of money to stay quiet–”

I gestured to Alain, and he brought a briefcase over. I crossed my legs and rested the briefcase on top, opening it and began tossing stacks of bills onto the desk. Doctor Bernard was visibly sweating now.

“What about now?”

“You don’t understand. These are powerful people, Miss…?”

“Rochester.”

At this, his eyes widened and he checked over his shoulder on reflex. I smirked. Got him. Gulping, he looked at the stacks of money on his desk before back at me. “Five years. Five years of nothing, and then in the last month… You’re… You’re not the first person to come asking about this case.”

“How many?”

“Two others,” he swallowed.

“Tell me.”

“I can’t. Patient confidentiality.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, come now, doctor. We’re way past that. If you’re afraid of being caught between two powerful parties, let me make this easier. I have a pretty good guess who these two people are. Ready?”

He shook his head, body tense as a bowstring.

“As soon as I said my name was Rochester, you freaked,” I continued. “First guy was probably a Charles Rochester, am I right?”

The doctor looked surprised, then frowned and shook his head. It caught me off guard too, until he corrected me. “Ian Rochester.”

Okay, didn’t see that one coming. My uncle. Charles’s brother. Jordan’s father. And suddenly I had a sinking feeling of what lay at the end of this road.

“Alright. Second person. Young man, well-built, military type. Probably flashed an FBI badge at you.” The doctor nodded in defeat. “You invoked patient confidentiality, and the donor’s dead. This man who came to see you was the recipient himself. August Nova.” He nodded again, and by now my breaths were coming out shallow. “He came asking about the donor, didn’t he?” Another nod. My heart was pounding so fast that the doctor was about to have another patient. My voice was barely a whisper. “I think I know the name of the donor too.”

“You do?”

Suddenly everything made so much sense, and no sense at all. I felt Alain’s hand on my shoulder and I gripped it with with both fists. If I wasn’t careful, I was about to have another panic attack. My mouth was dry, my vision was blurring.

It was impossible.

“Jordan Rochester.”

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