10. Chapter 10
The next morning I head downstairs to workout as usual. After a long run on the treadmill, Patrick is waiting for me in the kitchen. “Busy night?”
Nodding, I continue to my room to shower. This should be interesting. Patrick will demand details about last night, which I can’t give him. I’m more concerned about Artur’s retaliation than I am Patrick’s, although this may put Shortie and Gabby in danger, so I need to tread carefully.
After I’m clean and dressed, I walk out to the kitchen to make eggs and toast. Patrick allows me to eat in peace before he takes a seat across from me at the table. “Details, Nick, now!”
“If I tell you, Artur shoots me. If I don’t tell you, you’ll go after my family. Let’s be smart about this. I was part of a fight, just like on Friday nights. If there’s anything more to it, I didn’t see it last night.”
Patrick sits back and stares at me as I sip my coffee. I keep my face blank, as always. “You fought, nothing more?”
“Not last night,” I shake my head.
Patrick eventually nods. “If it’s just more fights, it won’t interfere with my plans. You tell me immediately if anything else is happening.”
Nodding in agreement, he leaves me in peace.
An hour later, we’re doing the usual pickups and drop offs around town when he gets a call from Artur to return to the bar.
When we step through the door, he's grabbed by Artur's favorite goons, and they haul him downstairs.
Artur is standing in the hallway watching.
I quirk an eyebrow at him in question. "His crew won't bother you again.
Patrick should know better than to put one of my fighters at risk.
" With that, he walks down the stairs, and I'm left standing there.
Shit, his crew must have squealed on him. That'll put him in a bad mood.
I go into his office to watch some tv until my shift starts.
About a half hour later, Patrick comes stumbling into the room with what will be a black eye, and he's holding his left side.
I stay quiet as he collapses into his chair.
We don't speak to each other as he sits there fuming.
I'm surprised he's staying here instead of going home to lick his wounds. Maybe Artur told him to?
I leave the office to grab dinner around 7:30 p.m. Ordering a burger and fries, I take a seat at the bar and look around.
It's fairly busy for a Wednesday night. Deke and friends are sitting in their usual booth looking a little rough, but no worse than the sperm donor.
Deke is glaring at me, but that's nothing new.
My night is uneventful, and Patrick decides to leave early at 11pm.
Even when we arrive at the condo, he doesn't speak to me, just snorts a line of coke and goes to his room.
Technically, I didn't rat him out, so he doesn't have a right to blame me, but that's never mattered before.
However, I'm sure Artur made it clear I'm off-limits.