“Cool, cool,” the short one nods, finishing the remainder of the drink in his hand. “Well, we’re heading to the Orion later; would you like to join us?”
I don’t get a chance to answer, Ciara jumps on the chance to go dancing. Meanwhile, I’m already dreading the thought of spending more time with these strangers. I want to just go home and go to bed now.
The taller one then turns to me and winks.
Lord help me; this is going to be a long night.
8
AIDEN
Robbie might be a shitty barman but thank fuck he can cook. I was starving and desperately needed something to eat before moving on to the club. I haven’t had a thing since lunch with my mam.
While everyone else cleaned up, he whipped up some spaghetti carbonara and brought it into our shared office. In turn, I dropped him off at his boyfriends on the way to the club. I won’t lie, I was a smidgen shocked when Robbie came out as bisexual, mainly because I had only ever seen him with women before, but fuck it, he’s happy. I’m full, so in turn, I’m content. If only I could shake this banging headache that has been lingering since this morning.
The music from downstairs is muffled, thankfully. I couldn’t imagine trying to work with all that noise. Wiggling the mouse on my desk, I wake up the computer and I’m instantly greeted by the CCTV screen. I can see every angle of the club, it’s a relief to be able to keep an eye on everything without actually being there. I take a sip of water, hoping itwill help alleviate my headache, and wondering if I can make the drive home tonight or will it be better to crash on the couch?
I open the drawers on my desk, hoping that I’ve stashed some painkillers in here once upon a time. Knives. Gun. A scalpel. A picture of Judge Richardson getting pegged. No fucking painkillers, great.
Fuck my life.
I grind the heels of my hands into my eyes in frustration, trying to ease the throbbing in my temples.
Either my dick is getting sucked or I’m killing someone. I don’t care which happens first, but I need relief.
Pulling out my phone, I find Tracy’s number and have a text all but written out when I see a familiar figure on screen.
The girl from Dandelions.
She’s twitchy as fuck; it looks like she’s a bird about to take flight.
I click on the camera aimed at the bar, widening the screen to see her better.
No wonder she’s anxious; those two idiots that were all over her and her sister are now standing right behind her.
I can smell a predator a mile away, and I’m looking at two of them. The girls look a bit unsteady, though it has been a few hours since I’ve set eyes on them. Perhaps they have one too many?
I try to zoom in, but the image quality is too blurry to make out any details. The sister is holding another cocktail.Surprise, surprise,but the other one appears to be holding a glass of water, or so it seems through the grainy imagery.
I grab the microphone for the bar staff’s earpieces and ask, “That girl on the left of the bar, the tall one with the girl wholooks like she’s been spat out by a gimp, do you happen to know what they’re drinking?”
It takes a minute, but Sophie calls back, “They’ve been ordering cocktails, Miller, and water all night.”
Water.
She hasn’t drunk a drop of alcohol since leaving Dandelions.
It’s damn near impossible to spike water with anything without it being noticeable, so it must mean, “Motherfuckers!”
I reach into the desk, pull out my Glock 34, and shove it into the back of my waistband. I take the scalpel too, for good measure.
Do these arseholes think they’re hunting in my club?
I hurry downstairs, only to find them leaving by the time I reach the main floor.
Right so, outside it is.
* * *
