TWENTY-EIGHT
SEAN
Jeremy headed back to the dining room, and I followed Tony to the front of the hotel. I had given his team a vacant first-floor room for their base of operations, so I assumed that was where we were going. Instead, he led me out the front door and to the side of the building.
Two big guys were standing with a smaller guy between them. I squinted because the shorter guy looked vaguely familiar, although it was hard to tell in the dark. Tony brought out a small but powerful flashlight and shined it on the trio.
My mouth dropped open. “What the fuck?”
The little guy was Nat, my former bartender, and behind him was a homophobic slur spray-painted in big red letters on the side of my hotel. “Nat? What the hell?”
“Fuck you,Mr. O’Neil,” he spat.
One of the big guys—Marco, I guessed by his striking resemblance to Tony—said, “Watch your mouth, you little shit.”
So yeah, I thought Tony was big, but his brother was a fucking mountain. He wasn’t much taller than Tony, but he was built like a brick wall and looked really scary. Nat also seemed to think so because he shut right the hell up.
Tony handed me a driver’s license. “Nathaniel Jansen. Twenty-eight years old. Was living up in Bergen County until about two months ago. He has some arrests for petty theft and one assault charge. His cousin, Brian Whitaker, paid a big-time lawyer to get him out of the assault charge with only a slap on the wrist.”
Two months ago. Right when he started working for me. My gut twisted. “A spy. A fucking spy.” I turned to Tony. “Did you call the police?”
Tony shook his head. “I was waiting on your say-so.”
“Do it,” I growled. “Ask them to come with no lights. I don’t want to cause a problem for the fundraiser.”
“You got it,” Tony said. He handed me the flashlight and stepped away to make the call. Nat stood with his arms crossed and a smug grin. I was so mad I had to step back so I wouldn’t be tempted to punch the fucker in the face.
“I’ll make bail in a couple of hours,” Nat sneered. “It’s my word against your goon’s.”
Now it was my turn to be smug. I pointed to the new security camera attached to the corner of the building. “Smile, asshole, you’re on candid camera.” It was gratifying to see the arrogant smile slide off his face.
Tony came back and said, “They should be here soon.”
“Yeah, the station’s not that far away.” I leaned in a little closer to him. “How am I going to stop this shit from happening again? Even if Nat goes to jail—which I doubt will happen—Brian will just find somebody else to do his dirty work.”
“Michael and I are working on something,” Tony replied. “Let’s see what happens when the cops show up.”
A few minutes later, a patrol car pulled up, thankfully without flashing lights. Two officers got out and approached us.
The pair quickly took our statements, taking the longest with Marco since he was the one who caught Nat in the act. They also asked Tony for his credentials since he was running security.
They read Nat his rights and put him in handcuffs. Of course, he was belligerent the whole time, just shy of resisting arrest.
“This is bullshit. It’s just a misdemeanor,” he insisted.
The female officer pointed at his graffiti. “That, Mr. Jansen, is a homophobic slur and therefore considered a hate crime. So no, not just a misdemeanor.”
All the color left Nat’s face at that statement. “What the fuck? No way! Brian said it would just be a slap on the wrist if I got caught.”
The male officer asked, “Who’s Brian?”
I opened my mouth to answer for him, but Tony shook his head slightly. Nat just babbled on. “My cousin. He wants to buy Moonlight so he can knock it down and build condos or some shit, but O’Neil won’t sell. He wanted to make it so people wouldn’t want to come here.”
“Interesting,” the female officer said. “Looks like we’ll have to talk about this more at the station.” She turned to me and asked, “Mr. O’Neil, do you want to press charges?”
“Yes, I do,” I replied firmly. “Would it be okay if I come to the station tomorrow? I have a fundraiser going on, and I should really get back to it.”
She waved me away. “Sure. Tomorrow is fine.”
