GAUGE
Iclimbed down from the desk, ready to do what needed to be done. Iwasn’tworried; I’dtalked with the guys on the door and they were nothing to fear. Besides, aman like me—who’dseen the things I’dseen, and done the things I’ddone—didn’thave anything left to fear in this world.
The banging from the other side ceased, and Irolled my shoulders, readying myself.
Moments later, several bodies hit the other side of the door and the door crashed open. It split practically in half as it did, one part flying inward and hitting the wall before landing on the floor, the other swinging absently on one twisted hinge.
Standing in the doorway were the two men that had been working security on the front door of the club, now wearing seriously pissed-off expressions, and Ishrugged at them nonchalantly. As they stepped further into the room, more men filtered in behind them, all holding guns, and my expression hardened. Ilifted my chin, gritted my teeth, and lowered my hands when Irealized that this wasn’tafistfight anymore.
“This him?” said one of the men Ididn’trecognize, his hard gaze never leaving mine.
“Yeah. Said he was coming in for his girl and would be right back out,” said the security guy with the accent.
“Where’sJeff?” the first man asked, coming further into the room and taking in the mess Jolie and Ihad created. He was tall and broad, but not built like the men who worked the door. But there was no denying that he knew how to handle himself. That much was obvious from the way he held himself. Ididn’trecognize him in any way, which was surprising because it was my job to know anyone and everyone. But his next words were even more surprising. “It’sGauge, right?”
So he knew me, but Ididn’tknow him? Shit was turning sour real quick.
Istayed expressionless. “Glad to see my reputation gets around.”
The other man smiled as he slipped off his black suit jacket and handed it to one of the men behind him. He began unbuttoning the sleeves of his black shirt and rolling them up, revealing an armful of intricate tattoos. The man moved on to the other arm, revealing yet more tattoos, and once he was done he headed over to atall cabinet where achipped mug and abottle of vodka waited. He picked up the mug and shook out whatever had been in it before pouring himself adrink. He took alarge gulp, wincing as he swallowed.
“Not your usual brand?” Ismarted.
He turned to me with ablank expression. Ibet that fucker had all the women running to him. Tall, dark haired, smartly dressed… Who the hell was he?
“No, not my usual brand. Iprefer something alittle less…moonshine and alot more money infused.” He smiled. “Would you like to try it?”
“Sure, Ithink we have different tastes.” Icould feel the weight of my gun in the waistband of my jeans, but Iknew I’dbe shot down before I’deven gotten agrip on it.
“Perhaps. You are more white trash than me, of course. It’sprobably more to your taste.” His smile widened as my expression further hardened. “Here, catch,” he said before unexpectedly throwing the cup at me.
Ilifted my arm up to protect my head as it came toward my face, managing to knock it to one side with my forearm as vodka sprayed over me and the room. Iheard him laugh, the other men chuckling with him as Irighted myself.
“On second thought, Ithink I’ll give it amiss,” Igrowled out, squaring my shoulders. “Iprefer whiskey.”
He laughed harder. “Probably for the best,” he agreed. His smile fell as he reached into his pocket and pulled out apack of cigarettes before lighting one. Iwas half tempted to ask for one but decided it was probably best not to; no way Iwanted alit cigarette flying toward me. He glanced across at the other men and nodded, and they came further into the room, their guns aimed at me.
Itutted. “Guns? Really? Why don’twe sort this out like real men, huh?” Iasked.
He laughed around amouthful of smoke. “Oh, we will, my friend, but first, let me introduce myself because I’mguessing you don’tknow who Iam.”
“Should I?” Ireplied, clocking my head to one side. “Imean, Iknow who Ineed to know, which is anyone important. So Iguess that makes you…” Ilet my words trail off, surprised when he laughed even harder. “Something funny?”
“You. You’re funny. And your answer is exactly what Iwanted to hear. Though,” he said as he moved over to where Jeff was still rolled up on the cart, “with some small adjustments.” He pulled back the rug, peering inside the top corner and nodding before looking back at me. “Your handiwork?”
“Sure,” Ireplied, giving nothing else away.
He raised adark eyebrow at me. “Can Iask why?”
“He pissed me off. Shortchanged me on some decent vodka.” Ishrugged.
He chuckled again, lowering the rug back over Jeff’sface. “Well, let me introduce myself. Iam Christian.”
“You goin’ for that one-name thing? Kinda like Prince, huh?”
Christian smirked. “Ilike you. It’sgoing to be ashame to kill you.”
It was my turn to smirk. “Well, you can try.” Ilooked around the room, assessing my threats and deciding which order to kill them in. Guns or no guns, Iwasn’tgoing down like that. Fuck no.
