“Go sit down at one of the tables and I’ll send you a zombie over. On the house.” I got up from my stool, avoiding the smirk on Samia’s face. She was one of my supervisors and almost knew more about mixology than me.
Wes scuttled and I headed back behind the bar, watching the doorway where a familiar face was entering. Familiar but not welcome.
“Tommy.”
Mal Hastings had worked for my family for two decades. He knew my uncle from school, only unlike him, his dealings hadn’t been well hidden, and he’d served time on a couple of occasions. Prison hadn’t been kind to him, and he’d been desperate to avoid a third term in there. Somehow my uncle had kept him out, and now Mal’s soul was owned by Colm Kelly.
Mal walking in here was not good.
“Tomas.” He kept his voice low, like he was trying not to be noticed. There was fat fucking chance of that. Mal looked like he’d seen the wrong end of a blade on too many occasions, which he had. He had scars that suggested fighting was his go to reaction, which it was.
I didn’t want him in my bar. I didn’t want him anywhere near me, mainly because he smelled of trouble.
“Come through to the back.” I wiped my hands on the towel and glanced at Samia. She’d met Mal a couple of times, keeping her distance from him. Not that she had anything to fear – she wasn’t his type.
Mal followed me, not making things difficult, which to be fair, he usually didn’t. He didn’t try to intimidate or look around for anything he could ‘borrow’ on the way out, because unlike some people who worked for Colm, that wasn’t his style.
He kept things simple. Tidy.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I didn’t sit down and I didn’t offer him coffee.
Mal pulled a face. “Ashley’s done one. We think he’s in Penang.”
I raised my brows. “Didn’t expect that. Is he there of his own free will?”
Mal shrugged. “I’d like to say I cared. He sent one of his mates a photo of him with some girl he’s pulled. Looks legit. Almost. Colm knows you don’t want to get involved and he respects that…”
“But. Because there’s always a fucking but.”
“Too fucking right there is. Ash is involved in something more than just dealing on someone else’s patch. Colm thinks it’s something to do with expanded distribution. I don’t.”
“What do you think?”
“Weapons.”
I looked up to the ceiling. I’d been raised Catholic, although by now lapsed didn’t quite describe it. Didn’t stop me for asking for patience.
“Why couldn’t he have stuck with blow?”
“Because he’s a tosser. Anyway, we think he has a partner.” Mal took a cigarette out and tapped it on the table. He didn’t smoke. In two decades, I’d never seen him with a lit cigarette in his mouth. It was like he toyed with them, just like he’d toy with whoever had pissed him off.
“Where do I come into this?”
“Colm wants you to do a little investigating. Nothing illegal. He knows you’re trying to go straight and he respects that.”
Fucking bullshit.
“What does he want to know?” It was easier to play along. I’d be able to find out enough to get Colm off my back and think I was still in his camp.
Mal stared at the wall behind me, as if he was watching a spider crawling. He did this every so often, become focused on something that wasn’t there. Colm had said once it was something to do with a blow to the head he’d taken, which had knackered part of his brain.
I waited. There was no rush; it was only lunch time, and we were fully staffed. I’d planned to train Wes then take some time away, get lunch somewhere, watch the girls go by.
“Where Ash is. What he’s gotten mixed up in. Who the girl is in the photo.” Mal focused back on me. “What he needs to do to sort this.”
There was a quick answer tosorting it.It involved leaving Ash wherever he was.
I nodded, knowing how this game was played. “What exactly do you know?”
