Chapter 23
GEORGIY
Irush away from Bane, peering back to see him leaning against the bar, his forehead on the slick wood counter.
Something isn’t right. I need to get him out of here.
But the men we arrived with aren’t where I want them to be.
They’re not close enough. I want to call, but my phone is dead.
We should have planned better. Should have known this would happen. A contingency is never a bad idea.
I round a corner and find Casey first. Jax and Kit just behind him. They’re wandering around, looking at the slot machines, Casey eyeing the women around him. No one seems concerned about the fact that Bane is alone and waiting for me. That he’s in distress.
“We need to leave!” I bark and their lax bodies snap upward, their gazes swinging toward me.
“Why?” Jax asks, but I don’t answer, just point back to where I came from. I can’t see Bane anymore, but I will. I just need to step forward. Just a few more steps.
My body rounds the corner and I feel the air leave my lungs.
The empty stool, the silhouette of where he once was.
“Where the fuck is he?” I growl as I approach the bar. My blood pressure exceeds what is healthy, but it doesn’t matter. Because Bane is gone.
I fumble with my phone and then curse. Fuck, right, it’s dead. I need to charge it. A portable charger appears in my vision and I thank the gods that Kit had the foresight to bring one in. It takes ages for me to plug it in and for it to power up.
When I’m able, I pull up the tracking app and see that Bane is still in the building. But the tracker I placed inside him is not specific enough and won’t pinpoint his exact location on the premises.
So he’s here, somewhere. But I can’t see him.
He’s hidden. They’ve hidden him away from me.
The cup of ice water Bane was sipping on sits in a puddle of condensation right before me. Like he just got up and left.
But he wouldn’t do that.
The bartender just stares back at me, his eyes cold and lifeless. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
The man is far too young to be fucking with me right now. I could have him lying prone in seconds, my syringe rendering him breathless.
It never feels good when your heart stops working.
I’ve heard the pain is indescribable.
But I need him alive to tell me where Bane is.
My property.
Mine.
My hand fists by my side, and I, once more, talk myself out of pressing a syringe into the vein in his neck. I don’t want to draw attention to this. I just want to find Bane as easily as possible.
And I have restraint. I will not do this messily.
“You do know,” I hiss, my accent growing thicker, my eye twitching. My fingers curl around the specially made plastic syringes in my pockets—the ones that a metal detector couldn’t pick up.
Restraint.
The throbbing in my head grows more insistent.
“If you have an issue, you can take it up with security. They have cameras all over this place. You can find him that way,” the bartender adds, looking smug. “Last I saw him, he was just sitting here, drinking his water. Probably got up to use the bathroom and got lost.”
He’s lying. Bane wouldn’t go anywhere without me, and there’s no way security will work with us. They’ll deceive and thwart, but they won’t help.
Casey must sense the way I’m tilting toward murder because he steps forward, leaning against the bar top, his hands fisted together.
“Yeah, all right, tell us where we can talk to security.”
The corner of the bartender’s lip curls up, taking in the entirety of Casey. “That way. Through the door and down the hallway.”
He points to his right, and Casey turns. He squints and then nods, tapping the counter and stepping back.
“Right? Thing is, I’m not entirely sure where it is. There are several doors that way. Can you show us?”
I huff in annoyance, hating that Casey is taking his time when Bane has been taken from me, but when the bartender tells his coworker he’s going to take a small break and slips from behind the counter, I see Casey’s hand go into his pocket and come out with a necklace wrapped around his fist.
My breathing grows steadier as Kit, Jax, and I follow the bartender and Casey toward the door, and when we finally get through it and into the hallway, Casey reaches out and taps the bartender on the shoulder.
The man swivels to the right to ask what he needs when Casey’s fist lands on the man’s face.
Blood spurts out of his nose, and the necklace in Casey’s hand is wrapped around the guy’s neck.
I can see it cutting into his skin, choking him.
Casey drags him right into the middle of the hallway so he has no leverage.
He’s completely at Casey’s mercy.
“Fuck you,” the man whines, but Casey is too busy strangling him. His eyes bug out of his head, the veins popping in the whites of his eyes, the man’s fingers grappling with the restraint.
Security must see this; they have to.
And yet no one makes an appearance.
My hand moves to the syringe in my pocket, the vial of powdered poison in the other.
When they come, I’ll tear them all down.
I’ll do it. If they don’t bring him to me, if he’s not safe. If he’s hurt.
The bartender falls to his knees, and Casey goes with him, his lips at his ear, whispering something to him.
It’s only when the man goes limp on the floor that Casey stands up, the necklace twisted around his fist, a loud exhale piercing the silence.
“Fuck. That guy was an asshole. Couldn’t help myself. Sorry. Be ready for retaliation,” he says, pushing a hand through his hair and staring down at the body before grabbing onto it and dragging it down the hallway, presumably to find a place to hide him.
We follow in silence, our eyes moving back and forth, waiting for someone to make an appearance.
Anyone.
But there is no one.
It’s silent. Eerily so.
“That was very cool,” Kit says. “I want one of those necklaces.”
Casey winks at him, twisting a door handle and making Jax grumble under his breath.
“I can get one for you,” Casey adds, making him blush. “I know a guy.”
It’s all infuriating.
They’re all missing the point. Completely unfocused. We have to find Bane. And now all we have is a half-dead bartender and no way to find who took my property.
“Focus,” I growl. “We need to figure out who took him.”
“If there’s anything I know about Bane, it’s that he can take care of himself,” Casey replies. He pulls the body a little farther down the hallway and looks for an unlocked door.
That makes something inside me snap. My vision narrows, my hands tingling. Before I realize what I’m doing, I have Casey up against the wall, a syringe against his neck, my face hovering just above his.
“He shouldn’t always have to take care of himself. He should be taken care of. And we failed him.”
The tip of the syringe is pressed against Casey’s skin, but he doesn’t look afraid. He’s more amused than anything.
“Right, I know. But my point was that we’ll find him and he’ll be okay. It’s Bane.”
“He’s fragile,” I murmur, and Casey nods, patting me on the forearm.
“Yeah, and so am I. I’d rather not die right now.”
I stare at him with derision.
“Look, I get it. You’re worried, but we’ll find him. He’s here. You know that much.”
I step away from him, letting him free, slipping the syringe back into my pocket.
“First, we need to put this body somewhere.”
“Blyat,” I murmur. “They already know we did it, and no one is coming. They’re planning something.”
A door opens to the right, just in front of us, and a man meanders out.
He’s tall and athletic-looking, but not bulky.
He’s wearing an oversized, faded black band t-shirt and ripped, light denim jeans as well as brown work boots with the laces untied.
Completely unkempt, if you ask me. A drifter, perhaps—although how did he get in here if he is?
I don’t know. Maybe this man is more than he appears.
My eyes move to his face, and I take in the stubble lining his sharp jawline and dark, narrow eyes. His hair is dark and straight, long enough to hide his eyes.
I don’t trust him. Not entirely.
He glances at the body that Casey is dragging before looking up and staring at the rest of us. No emotions move across his face, only mild interest and a little humor.
“Shit,” Kit murmurs as my hand once more grips the syringe, ready to plunge it into the man’s neck, but I find that won’t be necessary.
The man’s grin widens.
“You trying to hide the body?”
“Yeah,” Casey says. “You have a problem with that?”
“Fuck no. I think it’s a great idea. Better that than leaving him right out in the open.”
“Yeah,” Casey says warily. “Gotta find an unlocked room to stuff him in. You happen to know of any?”
“No. I just arrived, but let me ask you something. Did he deserve it? Scratch that. I’m sure he did. No one here deserves to live.”
“And yet, here we are,” I murmur, making the man laugh.
“Fair one. But I do love a good dead body. Did you know badgers are known to cache or store dead animals to consume them later? Once I’ve racked up a couple, we could cache them together for later. You know about badgers, right? They get hungry, apparently.”
“Why the fuck do we need to know that?” Jax asks, and the man shrugs.
“Just call me a badger then. Not that I want to eat this man—I wouldn’t go that far—but a little decay goes a long way.”
“What the fuck are you trying to say?” Casey demands.
“Let me help. They say there is security here, that they have cameras, but they don’t. It’s a lie.”
“Why the fuck should we let you help us?” Casey asks.
The man flicks his hand around his face. “The fucks who run this place deserve everything they get. Have you seen what they do to the girls in the club?”
We all stare at him, assessing, but finally Casey sighs.
“Fine. You can help as long as you don’t mind getting tangled up in whatever this is.”
“Oh, I don’t. I love a good tangle. Especially with the right kind of people.”