Quickly, he introduced the half-dozen staff members working at desks scattered across the open area. She enchanted everyone while he tried not to rip heads off for daring to look at her. All quickly returned to their scrutiny of the camera feeds or their computers after greeting Carina. He’d guided her to a more private lounging spot filled with overstuffed chairs and sofas when an alert sounded from the bank of computers.
“Marcus, a group is approaching,” one of the guys in a black Nightfall shirt called to him.
That deceptively innocent observation set Marcus on full alert. His trained security forces would not bother him if the new arrivals didn’t signal a threat.
“I’ve got to check that out, Carina. Would you hang out here? There’s a big couch over there you can sit on. Kick your shoes off and relax.”
“I can do that. My feet do hurt. Is everything okay?”
“Absolutely perfect,” he lied and gave her a kiss. As she walked to the lounge area, he sped down the stairs to the front entrance.Close the front doors. Do not allow anyone in.
We’re at max capacity and turning everyone away.
As soon as I get there, we’re going to let a group into the screening area. Tell everyone to get ready.
Marcus lounged against the counter as the men reached the door. He understood why he’d gotten an alert. The group was not dressed for a nightclub experience. Their smiles and interactions set his nerves on edge with their fakeness. These guys needed some acting lessons badly.
Marcus signaled to the doorman to let them in. The screening staff stopped the first man when he triggered the scanners with something metallic. As they directed him outside, the other four dashed through the metal detector together.
They hit the door into the orientation room at high speed and stopped to glance around in confusion. The room didn’t appear to have an exit. Marcus strolled in behind them, and the entrance sealed closed with a bang after Marcus.
“Your manners are sadly lacking,” Marcus told them as he leaned back against the door.
The men grabbed weapons from their pockets. Two guns and two knives. How cute. They’d coordinated.
“Who sent you?” Alaric’s voice boomed from the screen where he always greeted newcomers and guided them through the orientation. This time, however, his goal was not to welcome these intruders.
“Who the fuck are you?” one of the gunmen said when the others squared off behind him.
“I am Alaric, the owner of Nightfall.”
“And chicken. You send that gorilla here and you stay safe?” a man armed with a knife taunted.
Alaric focused on a man in the rear with a gun. A single shot rang out, and the man who’d taken the lead position crumpled to the ground with a crimson stain blooming on his back. The shooter whirled to aim at Marcus and gasped at the sight of his own arm dangling at his side at an unnatural angle or, better stated, angles. Marcus plucked the gun from his rapidly swelling fingers.
“Doctors might piece that together. You’ll need to learn to shoot left-handed.” He caught a knife in midair as it whizzed toward his chest and returned it in the same motion. His target fell backward with his own blade protruding from one eye. He didn’t make a sound.
“And then there were two,” Alaric observed. “Marcus. We only need one to pry information out of. Who do you think would tell us the truth?”
“Mr. Costa sent us. He didn’t approve your existence,” the uninjured man stated, holding his knife at the ready.
“Mr. Enzo Costa, who operates out of the docks?” Marcus asked. The man with the broken arm dropped to his knees as his pain overwhelmed him.
“Mr. Costa runs this part of town. You didn’t respond to his invitation to meet him. That put an unpleasant taste in his mouth. No one disrespects Mr. Costa.”
“I have an opening on my schedule in two weeks at noon. I’ll pencil him in so my staff will admit him,” Alaric said in a completely unaffected tone.
“He’s not coming to see you.”
“Okay,” Alaric agreed pleasantly.
“You don’t get it. Mr. Costa controls everything in this area. You won’t get any deliveries, any customers, any electricity, without his approval.”
“That won’t work for us,” Marcus said.
“Too bad. You don’t want to cross Mr. Costa.”
“Ah, gotcha. He’s the one who sent ten men here last night?” Marcus asked. “I trust they returned safely.”
