Chapter 6 #2
I search through the thousands of likes, through all the profiles, and I don’t find a single trace of her. My breathing picks up, and the grip on my phone tightens so hard I’m close to snapping it in half.
She leads a private life.
That’s good.
Unfortunately, that doesn’t work for me.
I quickly screenshot the picture of her straddling the pole. Head and torso bent all the way back, long locks of blonde hair flowing around her, eyes closed, and her face a mask of serene calm, focus, and satisfaction—like she knows she’s in control of the crowd.
Smiling to myself, I smooth my finger over the screen. She doesn’t know it yet, but I plan on making her mine. I will do whatever it takes.
No.
No, no, no.
My wrist connects with my forehead as I shove my phone in the pocket of my slacks and blow out an agitated breath.
Fucking stop it.
It’s just a normal curiosity about a girl, and I want to get to know her.
But, fuck, I know this isn’t normal.
I need to stay away. I should. Before this blows up into something I can’t undo.
Someone softly knocks on my office door.
I lock my phone, hiding the picture of the dancer, and shut my sketchbook, throwing both items in the top drawer of my polished, black, wooden desk.
“Mr Warren? Can I come in?” Penelope’s muffled voice drifts through, piercing through my ears even though there's a door separating us.
I pinch the bridge of my nose whilst my knee bounces viciously under the table. I’m not in the mood for Penelope’s advances today. There’s only one woman at the centre of my thoughts, and it sure as hell isn’t her.
I’m trying. I’m trying so damn hard to keep her out, but it’s like fighting the plague.
I still don’t know her name, and it’s driving me fucking insane.
I was close to going back to the club last night and searching through the files, regardless of Jac being there.
I would’ve found a way to distract him. But maybe it’s for the best. The less I know, the easier it’ll be to rid her from my thoughts.
“Come in,” I sigh.
The door clicks shut behind her as she enters and walks towards the empty leather chair in front of my desk.
I focus my gaze on my computer screen, watching the donation numbers for this year’s charity gala go up as she sits opposite me, no doubt pressing her tits together to get a lick of attention.
“How can I help you, Penelope?”
She clears her throat. “Max hasn’t returned from the deal exchange last night.”
My head snaps towards her. “What?”
She chews on her red-painted lips, brown eyes filled with concern. “I received updates on his whereabouts in the middle of the night. We had him tracked until we lost connection. There’s been no new updates since four in the morning, and he hasn’t returned.”
“You didn’t think to tell me that during this morning’s meeting?” I snap.
She scrunches her face. “I’m sorry. I’d hoped he would return, and I wouldn’t have to tell you this,” she squeaks.
I grit my teeth and clench my fists under the desk, nails digging into my skin. This is not what I’d hoped to be dealing with today.
“Get me on the phone with Aidan.”
Her head moves up and down rapidly as her nails tap on her tablet screen. Dial tones fill the tense silence and eventually cut out with no answer from Aidan.
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter. “Tell Jacques to send out a search party.”
“Meet me at Diamond Lounge in ten,” I say into the speakerphone of the car.
“You wanna look in DL? Since when? You never willingly go there.” Jac’s voice is filled with curiosity.
I roll my eyes at his remark. He’s right. But we’ve looked everywhere for him, and there’s no trace. The last place he could be is in the club. And I know exactly the reason he’d be there.
“Max has gone missing. Need I say more?” I’m lying through my teeth.
If that fucker gets anywhere near my newest curiosity, I’ll personally rip out his eyeballs.
“And it has nothing to do with Camila from last night?”
My body stiffens.
“What did you say?”
“The dancer from last night.”
Camila.
A slow grin spreads over my face. This is certainly easier than my plan of searching through hundreds of employee files.
Jac has better knowledge of the club than I do; he chose to be closer to the club than our drug deals.
“Xander? Are you there?” His voice snaps me out of my thoughts.
“Yep, see you in ten,” I say, hanging up with the red button on the digital screen. A laugh bubbles in my chest. I’m not engaging in any further conversation with him about her. The longer I can keep this away from him, the better.
The queue to the club tonight is huge. I circle around the back of the row of buildings and leave my car in the alleyway next to the back exit. Jayden is already there, trying to fight off multiple drunks. He acknowledges me with a tight smile as he pushes away a guy twice the size of him.
The smell of alcohol is already potent when I enter.
Neon lights circle around the glittering space.
I check the time on my watch to see it’s already eleven fifteen, which means Camila will be coming on stage in about forty-five minutes.
I tense when I see men already seated surrounding the stage, ready to see the show.
I stand by the bar, scanning the room for any sign of Aidan.
There he is.
And right in the middle seat in front of the fucking stage, with one of our dancers draped over his lap.
You have to be kidding me.
My feet carry me before my brain can process the next steps. Shooting him in front of everyone is not the best scenario. But the way my blood is pumping through my veins at the sight of him ready to watch Camila like a pervert has me palming the pistol nestled in the waistband of my slacks.
“Aidan,” I call with phoney friendliness.
His eyes flicker wide when he spots me. The brown-haired dancer slips off his lap gracefully. Another man dressed in a similar suit to Aidan motions her over, and she kneels down in front of him as he grips her chin.
Aidan rises from his seat, straightening the lapels of his navy suit. “Xander! I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.” He sounds as nervous as he looks.
“Neither did I,” I comment, extending my arm towards the private staff door. “Shall we?”
He glances around at the men he’s sitting with, but no one pays any attention to him.
He gives a light nod before following me through the door to the side of the stage.
The music from the main floor muffles as the door shuts behind him.
I check our surroundings, ensuring no staff are lurking.
Spinning and simultaneously pulling my gun out, I knock the handle into his temple.
Hard. Blood drizzles out of the side of his face as his body thumps to the ground.
I drag him down to the basement and heave him into the chair in the middle.
He's heavy for a five-foot-something guy.
I make my way to the corner of the room, pulling a cord which lights up the basement from a single lightbulb. Dried blood stains the floor from the countless adversaries we’ve had here. Most deaths courtesy of Jac.
“You found him then?”
Speak of the devil.
Jac strolls into the basement, hands rubbing together as he assesses Aidan.
“Any word from Max?” I ask, pulling worn rope from a plastic container under the table laid out with torture instruments.
He shakes his head. “I have Ezra and Daniel stationed outside making sure no one shows up.”
Daniel is Jacques’ bodyguard; he’s been with us the longest. Jacques found him when he was fresh out of military training, and he was all too happy to join us.
Very faint music fills the basement as Jac takes the rope from me and starts tying Aidan to the chair. His forehead has stopped bleeding now. Thank fuck. As much as I’d love to kill him for even attempting to lay eyes on Camila, we still need him alive.
A low groan sounds from the middle of the room.
“Good evening, Aidan. Fancy seeing you here again,” Jac chirps sarcastically, standing in front of him. Aidan groans in response. “Don’t sound too happy to see us,” he says, folding his arms.
Aidan’s eyes shoot open as his gaze pings around the concrete basement.
“Where am I?” he rushes out.
“That’s none of your concern. However, what I am concerned about is one of my men. You haven’t happened to see him, have you?” I ask, leaning my hands on the armrests of the chair he’s tied to, bringing my face closer to him. He trembles, pulling at his restraints.
Jacques moves to stand in the corner, next to the table filled with various torture instruments. I’m not one for making a mess. I hate it getting on me.
Jacques is usually the one who tortures; I’m more there for the intimidation. I prefer a clean bullet to the head, but like a lunatic, Jac prefers the more… personal approach. He's built like a unit, but he couldn’t pry a secret out of a toddler with a pack of Haribos.
“N-no. I don’t know what you’re talking about. The deal went through. My broker returned last night.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” I narrow my eyes on his blue ones, fear covering every inch of his face.
“Are we still inside the club?” he asks, head pointing towards the ceiling. He hisses as the light hits his eyes and attempts to bring his hand to his temple.
I huff out a laugh. “I’m not a very patient man today, Aidan. So, I will ask again, where the fuck is my broker?” Pulling my gun out, I press it into his already injured temple, making him whimper.
“I don’t know. I don’t know. I swear,” he rushes out. “I received the money, and I thought it was a done deal.”
“Then what the fuck are you doing inside our club?” Jacques chimes in, grabbing a knife and slowly walking closer to him. Aidan’s eyes widen into saucers at the sight of it, but he doesn’t make any attempt to speak.
Jac slowly brings the knife closer to his leg. A drop of sweat trickles down onto the barrel of my pistol as Aidan pulls in panicked breaths.
“I’m here to see your dancer from last night,” Aidan rushes out. “Nothing else, I swear.”
My teeth grind to the point of pain, but I act no different on the outside.
“You have to believe me—I don’t know where your broker is,” Aidan repeats.
“You make a convincing liar, Aidan,” I condescend. “And you’ve pissed me the fuck off,” I snarl, pushing into the wound of his temple before retracting the weapon.
For a second, I consider shooting him. I’ve not been myself since last night, and he’s made my broker go missing.
He dares show his face in my club to see the very reason I haven’t been myself, after I almost broke his arm, no less.
She’s all I can think about. I stared at her picture all day, thinking that if I looked at it enough, I’d start feeling sick of it.
But it’s having the complete opposite effect.
But we don’t know who he’s working with. Killing him could risk landing us in hot water, and I don’t need that shit right now.
“What if he’s working with the Dellers?” Jac says, not taking his eyes off Aidan.
“I’m not,” Aidan grits out.
“Why don’t I believe you?” I laugh, pushing further into his temple, his flesh squelching as the barrel rips open some of his skin.
“If you kill me, you’re dealing with them on your own,” he spits, anger clearly rising now.
I lean forward again. “I should kill you. But I won’t.
You, my friend, are going to bring Max back to us safe and sound.
If I see even a minor scratch on him, you’re dead, do you hear me?
” I say, voice low. I shove my gun into his mouth, causing him to gag around it.
“And if I see you in my fucking club again, I will hunt you down and rip out your throat. Am I clear?”
He frantically nods his head and coughs when I yank the gun out of his mouth.
“Good boy,” Jac laughs, patting him on the cheek.
“I’ll get Ezra and Daniel to take him out,” I state as I burst out of the basement. I take the private hallways to the back exit of the club and into fresh air.
Spotting Ezra at the end of the alleyway, I text him. He receives it through his earpiece and makes his way into the club through the front entrance.
Ignoring Jayden, I make my way back into my parked car. Pulling out my phone and bringing up the picture of Camila, I tighten my fist around the screen.
Tonight.
Tonight, I will make sure she knows who I am.