33. Chapter Thirty-Three #2
Valentin scanned the dance floor from his office, since it would be suspicious for him to go downstairs on Beta Night.
But while his full attention should have been on Bergam’s threats, his thoughts kept returning to the conversation he’d had earlier with Xan.
Despite his assertion that he couldn’t manage a romantic life, he still found his eyes drifting toward the entrance. Wishing to see Wes and Assa come in.
Just after midnight, with the crowd emptying, two police officers showed up and asked to speak to the owner, forcing Valentin to come downstairs. They told him that there had been multiple reports of cocaine being sold on the premises.
“Cocaine?” Valentin questioned. “Sold by who? The clubgoers? My staff? What’s being alleged exactly?”
The taller officer shuffled his feet. “I’m not telling you anything.” He handed over a warrant. “Except that we have good reason to believe there’s cocaine here.”
Valentin stepped aside and waved at the main room. “By all means.”
He didn’t know if these cops were in Bergam’s pocket or if Bergam had made the false reports that brought them there. He could only be grateful he’d found the package and, based on the video footage he and Xan combed through, it didn’t appear anything else had been planted.
He hoped.
Valentin asked the officers if he needed to close the club so they could investigate.
They said they could look around without disturbing the patrons.
That was his first clue that these cops weren’t on the up-and-up.
The second was when the officers made a noisy show of searching the downstairs office and media room, then weaved through the crowd on the floor without actually looking at anyone.
Just working their way toward the bourbon.
Behind the bar, their investigation suddenly became more focused and deliberate. Xan and Valentin watched from across the room as the cops bent down in front of the bottles and reached into the shelf. Their brows furrowed.
“Not exactly subtle, are they?” Xan sneered.
“Very on brand for Bergam to find the dumbest ones to bribe, but yeah, they could have at least pretended to look harder in other places before zeroing in on the bar.”
Faces pinched, the officers moved the bottles with more purpose, until they’d meticulously examined every shelf.
Eventually, they returned to Valentin.
“So, we didn’t find anything,” the taller one said. “We’ll need to go back and check with our, um, sources.”
Valentin brushed his hands together in an exaggerated motion. “Well, I am certainly relieved those reports turned out to be false.” He stared at the officers, curling his fingertips and brushing them across his chest. “If there ever were drugs on the premises, they are obviously long gone.”
“Long gone,” Xan agreed.
The second officer shot them a dark look. “We need to make sure we’re doing our due diligence. We might be back.”
“Right.” Valentin’s voice was knife-like. “After you check with your sources.”
A muscle ticked in the officer’s neck, but he said nothing as he left with his partner. Several patrons looked over, but things quickly returned to business as usual.
Xan stretched his arms above his head. “Man, those guys really were stupid. Didn’t even look upstairs, not even trying to make it believable.”
“Doesn’t need to be believable. Bergam knows I won’t involve the law. If I hadn’t found the package, I’d be in handcuffs right now.”
Valentin clenched his fists. Going back to prison was his worst nightmare. He needed to neutralize Bergam. But short of giving him his father’s club, something he’d promised Ang he would not do, he couldn’t see a way.
“It was a close call,” Xan said.
“Too close.”
“He’ll try again. I need to establish new protocols with deliveries, and start going over the camera footage more often—”
Valentin silenced him with a raised palm. “This wasn’t a failure on your team’s part. Bergam has been quiet for months, and I doubt it’s from lack of trying. You’ve probably stopped him a bunch of times without even realizing it. Something was bound to get through eventually.”
“I know, but—”
“Seriously, stop. For tonight, let’s call it a win and move on. Bergam is eating the cost of thousands of dollars in product we flushed.”
Xan went into the security office, and Valentin headed toward the stairwell. There were only a few stragglers left and he trusted his staff to close the club. All he wanted to do was grab Decoy and get home to a hot shower and cool sheets.
A beta on the edge of the dance floor caught his attention. Not in the way Assa and Wes had, but in the sense that Valentin felt a tingle of recognition. Did he know that man?
They made eye contact. The beta’s face scrunched, but after a moment, he shrugged and turned back to his dance partner.
Valentin shook off the vague feeling of familiarity. He had no capacity for riddles tonight.
After climbing the stairs to his office, he realized he’d left Decoy’s cat carrier in his car. Irritated, he huffed back to the main floor and went out the side exit to where he’d parked next to the building.
He had just popped open the trunk when a body slammed viciously into his side.
Lurching forward, Valentin lost his balance and slammed into the asphalt, wind whooshing from his lungs.
Two sets of steel-booted feet hammered him, brutal and relentless.
They kicked his ribs and dug into his neck even as he rolled into a fetal position, gasping for air.
A piece of glass sliced his cheek open, and pain shot across his face.
For the second time in ten minutes, he experienced a sense of familiarity. Except this time, he knew the exact memory—the day the Parkensons’ hired thugs beat him up and threw him in the back of a car.
He would never allow that to happen again.
Being locked up because some rich asshole had a problem with him.
Back then, Valentin couldn’t fight Keyes and Deveron.
But he wasn’t the same man he’d been at nineteen.
He would not be going to prison for some fabricated drug charge Bergam manufactured.
He’d fight the little shit and his minions with everything he had. Or die trying.
Valentin counted only the two assailants. Both alphas. He used his legs to kick out at the ankles of the man nearest him, getting to his feet again before the other one could land another blow. The men had their faces covered, but Valentin knew by their heights that neither was Bergam.
Valentin reached into his trunk and grabbed the tire iron he kept there. Crouching in front of his attackers with his back to the car, he forced himself not to think about the burning agony of his ripped-open cheek, even as the blood dripped onto his shirt.
How soon until Xan’s guys did an outside perimeter check? Five minutes? Ten?
“What’s the matter?” Valentin taunted, tossing the tire iron from one hand to the other. “Did Bergam get butthurt because the cops didn’t find what they were expecting?”
The men exchanged glances. “You might say that,” the larger man said. “But this is fun too. Consider us the backup plan.”
“Plan?” Valentin snorted. “Hardly. Plans require strategy…not to mention smart people to execute them. This is just bad improv.”
The other man growled and pulled a gun out of his pocket.
“I wouldn’t,” Valentin said, pointing to his left. “There are four cameras in this alley and at least two dozen people still in the club. Everyone will hear.” He pffted. “I’m sure you realize in your little pea brains that not all cops are dirty. Is Bergam worth going to prison for?”
The man smirked. “Nah. No one wants the cops here.” He twirled the pistol on his index finger.
“It might not make sense to shoot. But it’s gonna hurt an awful lot when I crack it over your skull.
” With that, he swung his arm toward Valentin while the second man boxed him in.
Valentin ducked as best he could, but the gun came down hard on his shoulder.
He gritted his teeth, jerking back against the car.