One of the great things about owning the club was the friendships he’d accrued over the years in all strata of society. He knew people in all kinds of roles and liked to think he was one of the most well-informed people in the village, although he had no way to verify that.
But this also came with several downsides. Namely, the less savoury people he’d come to meet and know.
Nigel sat at his own bar in the empty club. It was early, and they wouldn’t open for several hours, and he should really be in bed, catching up on his sleep. Running a bar was hard work and led to countless late nights. But last night, after the shooting of the two girls up the street, he’d struggled to find any peace. His mind had been racing the whole night through until a text appeared from a friend telling him there’d been a second shooting in nearby Forest Town.
He didn’t know the details or if anyone had been killed, but it seemed fairly obvious to him that the two shootings would likely be related. Penny’s death and Izabela’s disappearance had sparked the simmering tinderbox of rival gangs, and now it had finally exploded.
After the news of the second shooting, he’d finally given up. There was no way he was going to get any sleep. So, he’d stumbled downstairs and done the only thing he could think of that might silence the voices in his head.
Gripping the tumbler with his fingers, he tilted the glass, causing the smoky amber beverage inside to slosh around. The medicine he’d prescribed himself didn’t appeal, and he’d only had a couple of drinks, so his solution hadn’t really worked.
He still couldn’t get these intrusive thoughts out of his head and remained frustratingly sober.
He kept thinking about Izabela, how she’d caused this, and how she was probably in some very real danger. Her disappearance had resulted in two shootings so far, and from what he’d heard, at least two deaths, probably more.
Did they want to kill Izabela too?
The thought gave him chills as he took another sip of his drink. It wasn’t as if he was neutral in all this, after all. He’d been friendly with the working girls for months, giving them free drinks and space. Even Abel, who was only an occasional visitor, knew about his sympathy for the prostitutes.
How long would it be before he put two and two together and paid him a visit? He’d been careful while Izabela had been here the first time, keeping her away from him, but that would probably not be enough to keep Abel off his doorstep. It would only be a matter of time before he showed up to have a friendly chat.
But if that was the case, then Izabela couldn’t stay here. She had to move on and go somewhere safe whether she liked it or not.
The club's rear door sounded, and he heard footsteps approaching through the back of the building. Nigel took a final swig of his drink and tensed.
Caprice appeared through a side door. “Hey.” She seemed perky and rested.
“Hi,” he said but looked back down at his glass.
“Is everything okay?”
When he looked back up, she wore a frown on her face, her eyes tick-tocking back and forth between him and the glass he’d been nursing.
Nigel sighed. “Not really.”
“You’re worried about the shooting last night, right?”
“Shootings,” he corrected her, putting the emphasis on the plural ‘S’ at the end. “There was another one. This one against Abel.”
Her expression dropped. “Shit. So Radek hit back?”
“Looks like it,” Nigel confirmed. “It’s getting out of control, and all because of her.” He pointed to the ceiling, meaning Izabela, upstairs.
“I know. But as long as she stays out of sight…”
“How long can I do that, Caprice? I know Abel, remember. He comes in here sometimes. He knows I serve his girls; he knows I know them. Hell, Penny probably told him that she met Izabela here. Does he know that Izabela lived here with me? Does he know that? Because if he does, how long will it be until he pays me a visit?”
“Aaah, yeah, I see. That’s a problem.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” He didn’t mean to snap at her, but he’d said it before he knew what he was saying. He bit his lip in embarrassment.
Caprice grimaced and then nodded. “Okay, so we need a plan. We need to get her out of here. She can come to mine.”
“No. No way. Your flat would be the first place they’d look. I’m not doing that. Besides, you don’t want these guys knocking at your door.”
“Alright, then where?”
“I don’t know… I mean, I have ideas, but some of them are a bit tricky, and she might not want to go.”
“Like what? Tell me.”
“Well, I had one idea, and I know she’d take her, but it’s not really ideal.”
“Where?” Caprice's tone was insistent and demanding. She needed to know.
Nigel went to answer. A loud bang echoed from behind him. He turned in surprise to see the front door had been kicked open. A large man, nearly as wide as he was tall and made of thick, bulging muscle, walked in, barely fitting through the door.
“Aaah, we’re not open yet,” Caprice called out. But Nigel had seen the man behind the brute and stopped himself from joining her protests.
“Caprice, don’t.”
“What?”
Three men walked in, while a fourth—another huge thug—stood outside, his back to the door. Following the first bald man-mountain were two others that Nigel knew all too well. He’d been fearing the arrival of one of them all night, but this was much worse.
For a brief, utterly crazy moment, he considered making a break for it, and running, but he quickly dismissed the idea. There was no way he could abandon his friends. Izabela wouldn’t want to leave, and he didn’t want to disappear and let Caprice or any other staff deal with these guys. This was on him. This was his responsibility, and he needed to fix it.
The thug who kicked the door open stopped just inside it, allowing Abel Underwood and his boss, Carter Bird, to approach.
Wearing an immaculately tailored suit, Carter was the epitome of the gentleman criminal. He dressed sharply and kept himself well groomed, but his appearance masked a dangerous, violent man who many in the underworld rightly feared.
He’d heard the rumours about him many times, about the people he supposedly tortured and killed, although none had ever been found or linked back to him. He’d even appeared in this very club once or twice, but that was a rarity.
Carter led Abel through the bar like he owned the place, full of confidence and without fear. Nigel, however, felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of them. He’d known it would only be a matter of time before Abel appeared, but this was quicker and much worse than he’d anticipated. Abel was a dumb thug, but Carter was no idiot.
He stopped a short distance from Nigel, adjusted his cuffs, and then placed his hands in his pockets as he looked between him and Caprice.
Nigel looked over and saw concern and worry in Caprice’s eyes, but he knew what Carter wanted. He smiled at his employee, trying to be reassuring. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to talk to Mr Bird in private and without any interruptions.” With his gaze locked onto hers, Nigel flicked his eyes to the ceiling and back, hoping she understood his meaning. “Thank you.”
A flash of understanding passed over her features. “Oh, yeah, sure. Will do.” She picked up her bag and hustled out of the room with a couple of backwards glances. Moments later, she disappeared through a door, and they were alone.
Nigel turned back to Carter, and despite his gut-wrenching fear, he smiled. “We’re alone.”
Carter inclined his head. “Much obliged,” he said and regarded him for a moment more. He took a breath and started to slowly pace back and forth as he spoke. “I take it you heard what happened last night?”
“I’m aware,” Nigel replied. “I hope no one was badly hurt.”
“Mmm,” Carter muttered. “Abel tells me two of his friends were lost in this latest act of aggression. There were some minor injuries too. But we’ve dealt with them.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Narrowing his eyes, Nigel felt the hint of a frown crease his forehead as he wondered why Carter was telling him this. He knew Carter mainly by reputation. He had served him drinks before and swapped pleasantries, but they were by no means close. But here he was, almost admitting he was involved in the criminality the rumours accused him of. What the hell was he doing?
Carter smiled. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m telling you this. But here’s the thing, you see. Unlike some, I know you’re not an idiot, and neither am I. I know all about the rumours surrounding me, as I‘m sure you do. So, I’m treating you with respect, and in return, I ask that you do the same. Do you see how this works?”
“I do,” Nigel replied cautiously. He noticed Abel looking around the room and wondered what Caprice was doing upstairs with Izabela.
“Good. That’s good. Let me reassure you that we will be taking care of things. But all this seems to have started because of one girl’s murder and another’s disappearance. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
“I heard about the girl who was killed but not about any disappearances.” He did his best to keep his tone neutral as he tried not to give away that he knew Izabela or that she was upstairs right now. “I’m aware of the killings last night, too.”
Carter's eyes narrowed. “I see. And you know of nothing else?”
Feigning ignorance, Nigel shrugged. “Sorry, no. What happened?”
Carter regarded him for a long moment as if trying to read his expression. Behind him, Abel stared at him with rage-filled eyes. Did he know? Did he suspect?
Carter shrugged. “Well, we’ve had a disappearance, a girl who was a visitor here, a customer of yours, called Izabela Nosek. A Polish girl. Do you know of her?”
Lying through his teeth, he drew on the truth of running this club whenever anyone said he should know everyone who came through his doors. He smiled in incredulity. “Look, I’m sorry, but hundreds, maybe thousands of people walk through these doors each week.” ‘Thousands’ was perhaps a little exaggeration, but only a small one. “There’s no way I could ever know everyone who comes here, even if they’re returning visitors who show up each week. So, unless you’ve got more for me to go on, then I’m sorry, but no, I don’t know who this girl is.”
Carter turned to Abel and pointed at his hand. Abel held up his phone. There was a photo of Izabela on it. It didn’t escape Nigel’s notice that the photo had been taken in here, in the club, and he recognised the outfit that Izabela was wearing too.
With his heart thundering and adrenaline surging, screaming at him to run, he gazed sceptically at the screen.
His and Izabela’s lives depended on him selling this fiction, and as he stared at her smiling face, he felt like a bug beneath the magnifying glass of a particularly cruel child.
“You’re sure,” Carter asked, his eyes fixed on him.
With a mouth like the Sahara, Nigel nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure,” he croaked. “I don’t know her. I see girls like that in here every night.”
Carter took a slow step forward, coming closer, his eyes locked onto Nigel’s. “I hope you’re not lying to me, Mr Wild. I don’t like people who lie to me.”
“Absolutely not.” He needed a drink. “I’d never lie to you.”
Carter didn’t rush into his reply. “Well, if you do see her, I’d ask that you do me the courtesy of giving me a call. Can you do that for me?”
“Of course. Absolutely. Happy too. What number should I call?”
Carter reached into his jacket’s inside pocket and pulled out a simple white card that had only his name and a phone number on it. He offered it to Nigel.
He went to take it, only for Carter to jerk it back. “You call right away, the moment you see her. You understand?”
“I understand,” he replied before Carter allowed him to finally take the business card.
“Then we have an understanding, Mr Wild.” He smiled suddenly, and the mood in the room lifted. “Well then, I can’t hang around here all day. Good day to you.”
Nigel watched as Carter turned and walked out without a backwards glance, unlike the thug and Abel, who both fired looks back at him. Abel’s glare was by far the most accusing and seemed to have only intensified over the course of this meeting as if he knew Nigel was lying. The thug was the last to leave and pulled the door shut behind him, even though his kick had splintered the lock, damaging it.
Nigel sighed and returned to his stool, taking a much-needed breather. He’d feared they would demand a look around, and they would have had to somehow hide Izabela, but he’d dodged that particular bullet for now.
He’d bought himself time, but that was all. He needed to get Izabela out as quickly as possible before the worst happened.
***
Fuming with pent-up rage, Abel walked away from the club, following Carter back to where they’d both parked and met up before entering the club.
Nigel was lying, he was sure of it, but he knew better than to question his boss's methods or to voice his objections too much. Carter only stood for a certain amount of insurrection before he took action.
At the car, one of Carter’s enforcers opened the door for him. His boss stopped and turned. “Stay here and watch the club. Report anything suspicious. Got it?”
Abel wanted to do more than just watch. He wanted to storm in there and turn the place upside down, but that could be disastrous for him. “Okay,” he hissed through a grimace.
“Good.” Carter got in the car, his thug closing the door behind him and giving Abel a disgusted look. Moments later, the car pulled away, leaving Abel by the side of the road.
He’d do as Carter asked, for now. For now…