Chapter Twenty-Six
Liam
“I hope he’s okay,” Ravi says as we pull up to the club. It’s late afternoon, so they’re probably not open for business yet. “He’s probably confused by the fact that I’ve been gone.”
“He’s a cat, Ravi. I doubt he’s got any idea. As far as he knows, he was starving on the street, and some guy picked him up and fed him, and now some other guy is feeding him.”
For all Ravi’s insistence that he’s a grown-ass adult, the way he pouts and crosses his arms is reminiscent of a petulant toddler.
“It’s going to be fine” I try as we approach the door.
Nothing.
In spite of the relatively early hour, there’s a bouncer outside. Not the one I saw before, and this one isn’t in a tux. He’s wearing jeans and a golf shirt, looking oddly like the handsome werewolf guy from that vampire show everyone used to fan themselves over.
“Fuck no,” the guy says when he sees me.
I plant my feet wide. “On whose order? I do have a membership here.” If he’s barring me entry on sight, does that mean he was specifically ordered not to let me in? Or is this simply because they’re closed?
“You’ve caused enough fucking trouble here.”
So it is me.
It doesn’t matter, because Ravi comes barreling in from behind me, striding right up to the bouncer before I can stop him. “Hi, Fred. You remember me, right?”
The piece-of-shit sentry’s smile is a little too fond. “Course I do, little guy. Glad to see you made it back in one piece.”
Every cell in my body bristles at the implication that I would have harmed Ravi in any way. Even knowing that’s the exact thing I was afraid of someone else doing, the accusation rankles.
“Did you get to see my kitten? Channing’s been watching him for me.”
“Oh yeah.” The guy laughs. “We’ve all seen. He’s fucking pissed. Don’t worry, though. He’s been feeding it and everything. Even gave it a bath when it got food all over its face. Real messy eater, that one.”
Ravi’s beaming brighter than the Florida sun right now, and I could swear the bouncer is giving me some smug fucking side-eye. Some kind of “Hey, look, I made him smile” or some bullshit. Fucker.
My usual patience is nowhere to be found right now. If I’m honest, it’s been thin on the ground since the day Ravi came into my life. Thinner since the day my cock started pointing his way like a divining rod. Now, when the bouncer seems to be issuing some sort of challenge?
Fuck this guy.
My hand goes to my gun. “How about you let us the fuck in so he can get his cat back, yeah?”
My other hand goes to the pocket with my cell phone. Still haven’t ruled out calling law enforcement. This place is shady as fuck.
When Fred’s face turns to stone again, Ravi has the audacity to reach up and tug on the guy’s sleeve. “Please, Fred? I’ve really missed him.”
There’s a prickly sensation at the back of my neck when the man steps back to push the door, allowing us entry.
I’m not sure how I feel about Ravi aiming those liquid eyes of his at someone who isn’t me.
My teeth could turn coal to diamonds right now.
If I knew he was mine, I don’t think I’d have this itching inside me, but that talk we had in the shower didn’t cover everything.
He hasn’t agreed to belong to me. He hasn’t said the words. Until he does, I don’t think I’ll be settled.
You haven’t actually asked, have you?
Now isn’t the time. Soon.
Low voices filter to us when we enter the main part of the club. A seating area that was previously situated around a spanking bench has been altered, the bench replaced with a mahogany card table.
Seated around it, drinking what looks like scotch and smoking cigars, are three of the sketchiest men in the Belle Argo area besides possibly myself.
Brennan Doyle is to my left, Daniel Corvus to the right.
Straight across is a man I only know by reputation.
Nathaniel Cavallari. The latter has popped up in case files, but I’ve never met him in person.
Dealing cards is a mousy young thing with her tits spilling over her bustier, a baby face, and hard eyes.
She’s as likely to offer me a drink as throw a chair at me, I’m betting.
Cavallari looks up at me, his gold-flecked eyes assessing. “Mr. Masters, how are you?”
“How the hell do you know who I am?”
Brennan flicks a couple of cards over to the scantily clad young dealer. “Nathaniel here oversees the unincorporated area between Beacon Hill and Belle Argo,” he says.
“Your house is practically on my territory,” Cavallari says with a smile. “I know who all of my subjects are.”
“I’m not one of your subjects, pal, and if you insist on thinking otherwise, we’re going to have a problem.”
Any reply the creepy-ass motherfucker might have made is drowned out by Ravi shouting, “Mr. Cat!” He’s across the room in a heartbeat, making grabby hands in front of the guy who was following him around before the auction.
“I missed you so much,” he says, baby-talking to the little black fuzzball. “Did Channing take the best care of you? I bet he did. Did you miss me too…?”
He’s cuddling the cat to his chest as he follows Channing out of the room.
“Kid. Where the hell are you going?”
“Don’t worry,” the object of my psychosis calls over his shoulder. “I just need to get the rest of his stuff. You can have a nice chat with the guys. I’ll be right back.”
Jesus. I scan the three men at the table.
Daniel Corvus, who has no history and a club filled with a number of employees who look like ex-cons.
Brennan Doyle, who does have a history and a rap sheet longer than a CVS receipt.
Nathaniel Cavallari, who tends to keep to himself, or so I thought, but who owns a suspicious amount of the land between this club and my house.
Channing’s absence aside, there are three obvious sentries posted at each exit point in the room. Then there’s the dealer, who appears to have a knife sheathed in the top of her thigh-high boot.
Nice chat, my ass.
“Rav seems like he’s in a good mood. It’s nice to see.” Brennan fucking Doyle had better wipe that knowing look off his face before I remove it for him.
“His mood is none of your damn business.” I’m fucking seething right now.
“Beg to differ,” he mumbles with half his attention on his cards. “Whatever you think of me, Ravi’s family, and I protect what’s mine.”
“He’s not yours to protect. He’s mine.” Goddammit, I know I’m letting him goad me like a wet-behind-the-ears recruit. My fuse is too short for this shit.
Doyle’s eyebrows hit his hairline. The other two are studying me over their cards. Cavallari looks like he’s holding in a laugh. Fuck. I need to staple my own mouth shut.
My conscience prods at me for essentially calling dibs on the kid while he’s out of the room. And Ravi’s had one foot out the door this entire time. I’m not sure if I’m too late to call him back. I’m not sure if I should.
Still. Ravi is too good to belong to filth like Brennan Doyle. He’s too good for filth like me.
Doyle lays his cards on the table, face down. Turning his attention back to me, he says, “I owe you one, by the way. For what you did for Jacob.”
Are my eyes still in my head? Is my jaw still connected to my face? Am I hallucinating? Because Brennan Doyle just told me he owed me. I draw in a deep breath and let it out, letting my clenched fists relax a little. Only a little.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Brennan clicks his tongue and returns to his cards.
“Don’t try to tell me you weren’t ready to turn that kid into pulp when he scared your precious little twink.
Jacob’s a good egg, though. Stuck in a shitty situation and he’s made some not-so-wise decisions, is all.
Had him staying with one of my guys for a while, but his stepfather gave him no choice but to return home.
I get the feeling you know about being stuck in shitty situations, Masters. I know I do.”
This day has been full of surprises. Finding out the lump of coal in Brennan Doyle’s chest might beat after all? Frankly, I wish there was another chair nearby for me to sit down in.
“I spoke to your colleague,” Daniel says loudly enough to broadcast the obvious change in topic. “She asked for names of anyone barred entry to the auction. The list of those we didn’t let in was longer than those we did, but after doing my own digging, I believe I know who you’re looking for.”
What? “Who? And how?”
“The how is a bit complicated, but I’m missing a couple of employees since the night of. Both recently received sums of money that weren’t easily explained, and one was caught propping a rear door shortly before your boy went on stage.”
“He’s not—” I bite down on the insistence that Ravi’s not my boy. The insistence I’ve been making for the better part of two years is more habit than anything else.
I did just insist to Doyle that he’s mine.
And he is. He’s mine. I’ll worry about the rest of it later.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell us sooner about all of this?” I’m trying to keep my cool, but I can’t stop the twitch of my neck that makes something in me pop and crack.
Corvus’s expression seems to convey “I’m telling you now.” Along with a heavy dose of “Don’t piss me off.”
I clear my throat. “And?”
“The man you’re looking for is Dylan Beck.”
The guy we’ve already been looking into. I remember the hungry look on his face when I slipped into Mercer Oak’s party while everyone, including the shit security, was busy watching Ravi scaling his fellow escort like a kitten in a tree.
I don’t know whether to be pissed off or thrilled.
“We already suspected him. How do you know?”
“Aside from tracing the source of my former employees’ recent windfall, he’s got a loose but significant connection to the young party promoter who was implicated in the trafficking ring you’ve been investigating.”
Tony. That little shit was alarmingly well connected. “The investigation is over.” At least, it’s supposed to be.
“Of course it is,” Daniel says with a look that tells me he’s not buying what I’m selling.
“Regardless, the man you mentioned is already on our short list, but the bigger issue is our missing staff. We value loyalty here, and they’ve broken it.”
“I know that guy you’re talking about, sort of.” Brennan takes a hearty sip of his drink. Leave it to Brennan Doyle to chug a drink you’re supposed to savor.
“One of my guys had a date with him awhile back,” Doyle continues. “Kid landed in the hospital. Never trust a man who doesn’t know not to break his toys.” Another glug of liquid.
Then, out of nowhere, he snaps his fingers, as if he’s having a lightbulb moment.
“Jacob. The one who followed Ravi. His stepfather developed a lot of the real estate around here, and I’m pretty sure the two were friends or business partners or whatever.
Overheard the kid mention a while ago that stepdaddy owns a yacht called the Sally Sue. ”
What a stupid fucking name for a boat. I suppress a growl. “You’re thinking he could be using the friend’s boat.”
“I’m thinking if you were stalking and threatening someone who’s under the protection of one trained killer, one who learned by doing, and one with some kind of hairy-ass dog fraternity at his disposal—”
Corvus barks a laugh. Unexpected, given that Brennan just insulted the guy’s staff by calling them dogs.
“—you’d want to hide your ass in a place that’s not under your name or the name of one of your businesses,” Doyle finishes. “Am I wrong?”
What does it say that for a second I want him to be? That I want Brennan Doyle to be the violent, brainless Neanderthal everyone makes him out to be? If this lead is legit, then I need to check it out now, and I don’t want to. What I want is to take Ravi back home and finally sink inside of him.
It’s a fucked-up thought. From a fucked-up guy. Times like these, I’m not sure I’m any better than men like Dylan Beck.
If Doyle’s right, it’s not something I can ignore. Beck threatened Ravi.
For a second I study Doyle’s profile. The subtle lines at the corner of his eyes. The highlights in his hair that might actually be the start of him going gray. Brennan Doyle is older than I am, if I had to guess. You don’t stay alive in this line of work without being smart. And ruthless.
“No,” I admit. “You’re not wrong.”
Chattering voices from beyond the room tell me Ravi’s on the way back.
The phone next to Brennan’s left hand emits an alert. The sound of a cash register. He picks it up, scowls, and then drops his cards on the table with a wad of cash. “I need to take care of something. You people have fun.”
Probably off to check on one of his dirty businesses. I scoff but otherwise keep my thoughts to myself. The intense glance he cuts my way tells me he heard the sound, but the way he storms out as if his ass is on fire says he’s got bigger concerns than my judgment.
“I need to check this out,” I tell Corvus. “Can I leave Ravi with you? I need to know he’s safe until I can get back.”
He waves his hand. “Take Channing. He’ll help sniff out our traitors.”
“You’re not leaving me here.” Ravi’s standing a few feet away from me, kitten still cuddled against his chest, scowling. “This involves me, and I’m not a child who needs a babysitter. I’m going with you.”
He might be right. Of course he’s right. I’ve also never wanted to lock him in his bedroom more.