Chapter 6 #2
I give him the address while glancing around the room. A purse. I point to it, and Logan’s eyes follow my direction. I move to the kitchen and notice the clean dishes in the strainer. Two cups. Two sets of silverware.
After we hang up, I go back out to the living room and Logan is going through the purse. “I have a license. Her address isn’t here. I’m telling you, nobody was here.”
“She was here. I watched her fall out of the damn window.” I stalk down the hallway, knocking open each door until I find the window. The goddamn bathroom. “She was hiding in here.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
“Let’s go. Grab her purse and shoes. Franco will be here soon to clean this all up. You’re going to find the girl.” I point my finger at Logan. “Find her and bring her to me. Don’t fuck this up, Logan.”
“She has the same last name as the cop.” He stares at the license. “It’s got to be his sister or cousin maybe… unless he’s married and has been hiding it.”
“Just get her and bring her to me.”
He has her license in his hand, so I snatch the purse from him and walk out of the apartment and back toward my car so I can head back to the club.
My anger toward Logan is increasing by the minute, but as much as I want to throw his ass to the wolves, one of the more crucial pieces of advice my dad gave me when he started teaching me the business was to keep my friends close and my enemies closer.
So, for now, I’m keeping Logan close. Whether it’s as a friend or an enemy, only time will tell.
I’m pissed at myself for letting my guard down enough that Logan could get shit past me, but my guard is now up and my eyes are open, and once I get this all sorted, he’s going to regret ever crossing me.
I spend the rest of my evening making sure my face is seen at the club to ensure if anything goes down I have several alibies.
At eleven o’clock, I grab my main bouncer, Rosco, and head downstairs to the underground club to check shit out.
Logan was quick to throw Luis under the bus, but now I’m curious to see what else has been going on while my back was turned.
My employees know damn well drugs in my club is unacceptable.
The last thing I need is someone overdosing or acting a fool because they’re hopped up on something. They can do that shit elsewhere.
The underground club has two entrances. One is down a hallway, off the main area, and the other is outside, around the back, the stairs leading down to the underground level.
The underground part of the club is invite only.
There’s a large cover charge and all licenses are scanned so we know who is entering.
From the outside, it looks like a shitty old door that needs to be replaced, like where one would go to throw the garbage out, out back.
With several cops on my dad’s and my payroll, including the Deputy Chief, my underground club gets overlooked, which is how I know Logan is up to something.
Stephen wouldn’t bother making that threat because there’s nowhere to go with it, and as far as the money laundering goes, I have my shit locked air fucking tight.
But with Logan acting strange, I let him believe I was worried, when the truth is I wanted to see how he would handle it all.
Him killing the cop tells me one thing: Logan is hiding something way bigger than some wannabe gangsters selling X and coke to a bunch of people at a club, and you better fucking believe I’m going to find out what it is.
I spot Luis standing at the door and he gives me a nervous nod, which tells me Logan has already warned him. “Listen, Ethan—” he starts, but I cut him off.
“We’re not going to discuss this right now, and definitely not here. For now, just do your damn job. I see anybody selling in my club tonight, you will never work in this city again. Got it?”
He nods in understanding, letting me through.
I have two fights scheduled for tonight.
I get downstairs and the place is already crowded, everyone with liquor in their glasses.
The fights don’t begin until midnight and they go quickly, usually ending by 2:00 a.m. There are no rounds or rules other than no weapons and no killing the other person.
My ref will stop the fight once one of the fighters is no longer capable of fighting back.
For the next couple hours, I watch the fights, watch my employees, and watch the patrons.
I have Rosco throw several people out for doing drugs.
He checks the bathrooms several times and makes examples out of enough people that it should get passed around quickly that drugs in my club won’t be happening anymore.
It’s been a long time since I was the last person to leave the club—that’s what managers are for. When you run your business right, you can delegate. Work smarter, not harder is my motto.
By the time I leave, I have fired several of my employees whom I caught partaking in this mini drug ring in my club, including Carmen, who has apparently been selling that shit at the bar in exchange for getting a cut.
I make a mental note to have Erika, my club manager, start gathering résumés to replace those I fired.
On my way home, I realize it’s close to four in the morning and I still haven’t heard from Logan all night.
I make a pit stop by his house, but he’s not home and the place is pitch-black.
Using my key, I go inside to check things out—this feeling I have that he’s up to something has only strengthened.
After checking through several drawers and finding his computer is password protected, I’m about to leave, when I remember he has a safe.
He once told me the code is under his desk in case anything ever happened to him.
I find the paper and input the code, and the safe clicks open.
Inside, I find a couple insurance papers, his will, and in the back, I find his gun from last night. He should’ve gotten rid of that.
Grabbing a hand towel from the bathroom, I wrap the gun up in it. I don’t know what Logan is up to, but I’m going to be taking this as collateral in case anything goes down regarding the cop. Like I said before… friends close, enemies closer.
I close the safe, put the paper back under the desk, and lock up behind me. When I get home, I take the wrapped-up gun and put it into a baggy, and place it into my safe. Then I take a quick shower and go to bed. I’ll deal with Logan tomorrow.
I wake up to my phone ringing and, judging by the light shining through, it must be at least nine or ten in the morning. It better be Logan letting me know he found the runaway woman.
The caller ID says Pops.
“Hey, Dad.”
“You asleep at noon?” His tone is concerned. I don’t usually sleep in. Life is too damn short to waste it sleeping.
“I’ve been putting out fires at The Warehouse,” I say, sitting up and stretching.
“Everything okay?”
“I’m handling it.”
“Okay, we’ll talk when I get home. How’s everything else?”
I pull the sheets back and get out of bed to take a piss. “Everything is good. I just got back from New York a few days ago and everything is running smoothly up there. How’s the Dominican Republic?”
My dad is quiet for a beat too long. Jesus, is everyone hiding shit from me? “Dad, I swear to fucking God if you’re hiding something from me, heads are going to roll. I’m already up to my goddamn eyeballs in bullshit with Logan.”
“Logan?” he asks, ignoring the part about him. “What the hell did he do? I told you not to hire him.” Fuck. I shouldn’t have let that slip. My dad has never liked Logan. I probably should’ve listened to him all those years ago when he told me not to mix business with friendship.
“I can’t talk about it over the phone. What’s going on with you?”
“I’d rather speak to you when I get home. I’ll be home in the next week or so.”
“All right. I need to get off and go find Logan. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye, Son. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Pops.”
We hang up, and I check my phone to make sure Logan hasn’t tried to text or call.
No calls. No texts. Guess I’ll be paying him a visit later, but first I need to stop by The Warehouse to speak with Erika.
There are a lot of spots that are going to need to be filled and I need her to get on it.
I almost fired her ass last night, until Luis admitted they made sure to keep what they were doing hidden from her.
I can’t fault her for not realizing what was happening, if I didn’t even know. So, I let her keep her job… for now.
I spend the rest of the afternoon at the club, combing through every one of my employees and making sure only the ones I can trust are left on the payroll, while Erika sets up interviews.
When I check my cell phone and see it’s almost 7:00 p.m. and Logan still hasn’t called or texted, I decide another visit is in order. Maybe this time he’ll be home.
I pull into Logan’s driveway and notice his car isn’t there once again.
I head inside to see if he came home at all last night or this morning before letting him know I’m here.
The door is barely open when I hear screaming and crying coming from the back of the house.
I close the door behind me and head to where the screams are coming from.
There’s no sight of Logan, but his office door is closed and locked from the outside, and the screaming is twice as loud up close. What the hell…
I turn the knob, but it doesn’t open. I get a knife from the kitchen and, sticking it between the doorjamb and the door, I bust the lock, the wood doorframe splintering in the process.
Swinging the door open, I pull my gun out from inside my holster just in case.
But when I see what’s behind the door, the sight in front of me stops me in my place.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”