Page 44 of Compulsion

“He left you a message, Max.”

“Sorry?”

There was a confused moment when Jack and Bryan both scrabbled in the pocket of their jeans.

“Who’s got it?”

“Did you pick it up off the table?”

Finally Jack pulled out a folded piece of white paper and Bryan shrugged, returning his attention to the cheesy dregs of his snack. Jack passed me the note, a paper napkin from the bar. Above the Medina Group logo was scrawled “Meet me in the yard, Seve.”

“Did Seve give you this?”

Jack shook his head. “A girl from the bar just brought it over with a fresh bottle of bubbly.”

I peered at the note. Maybe he’d finished his business call earlier than expected, though I didn’t know why he hadn’t come over personally. I realized I had no idea what his handwriting looked like. Dammit, the list of things I didn’t know about him got longer by the minute. But I wanted that to change and I thought he did too.

“Max?” Jack looked like he wanted to say something else.

“I’ll just be a while,” I said. “Back soon.” The excitement at seeing Seve again was already thrumming through my veins in a completely different beat to the dance music. Jack let go of my arm and Bryan nodded to me. I grabbed my bottle of water and made my way in the opposite direction—across the dance floor. Louis was over by the music desk, dancing and laughing and sweating; his hair was damp and clinging to his cheeks. I waved at him but I wasn’t sure he saw me. I weaved through and beyond the dancers and over to the back exit.

There was a security guy near the door. He turned as I passed, watching me, but as before, no one stopped me. I pushed on the door and it opened easily. I stepped out into the cool night air.

Chapter Eighteen

THE first shock was that Seve wasn’t there. Second shock was that Peck was.

At the same time, I felt a sick kind of relief. I was proved right—he was still around and he was here, at Compulsion. I’d correctly identified him when I was ambushed in the park on my way home. He was probably the one following Seve—following us. Then the relief gave way to more sensible but colder fear. Hadn’t Seve said Peck had gone back to London?

The door swung quietly shut behind me, the noise of the club cut off as if by a sharp knife. I glanced around to see if Peck had his thugs with him, but he seemed to be alone. He just stood there, looking at me. He was smoking but the cigarette had barely burned down—he’d only been here for a short while.

“Not keen on the club, Max? Far as I remember, you used to like the company. And the booze too.” He was surprisingly well-spoken, though his words had the truncated consonants of a familiar London accent. He was shorter than I was but much heavier. His thick muscled limbs gave him a slow waddle when he walked, but I knew from bitter experience how fast he could move when he had to—and how hard his fists were. He was dressed in a sober black suit with a thick Crombie-style overcoat. No security badge on his lapel, but I assumed he didn’t need it. No one would mistake that hulk for one of the dancers.

“I’m not drinking,” I said.

He raised his eyebrows. “Using?”

“That neither.”

He laughed. It was obvious he didn’t believe a word of it. “I realized it was you in the park that night. Didn’t put two and two together when I heard the boss’s kid was fucking someone new. But something made me join the others that night, and I’m glad I did.” His smile was a sneer. “Always good to meet old friends, right?”

“So that’s your idea of Saturday night fun? Beating up random guys?”

He laughed again. “Alvaro Medina doesn’t like his kid seeing anyone too seriously, you know? And I agree. It’s bad for our business. The kid’s been….” He waved his hand as if searching for the right word. “Distracted, since you two started screwing.”

What the hell? “So he told you to attack me?” I remembered Alvaro Medina was the name of Seve’s uncle.

Peck shrugged, his coat shifting on his wide shoulders. “Just a polite warning, that’s all. He’s happy for me to take the initiative when it’s needed.”

Holy fuck. Peck was running his own show down here just as much as he did in London. “Seve’s an adult. He can do what he damn well likes.”

Peck rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, as if he wasn’t even going to grace that with a reply. “You were never shy about the screwing, were you, Max? Plenty of times I found you in the khazi with your jeans around your ankles and some faggot on his knees with his face in your crotch. Or vice bloody versa.” Peck grimaced with distaste. “Fucking disgusting, if you ask me. But you never did ask me, did you? Went your own way. Thought you knew best.”

“Fuck off, Peck.” I was amazed I kept my voice steady. “We’ve got nothing to say to each other.”

“You think?” He took a single step toward me and I felt my gut somersault. “I think we’ve got some unfinished business, Max. You left halfway through a job. You left without giving any bloody notice at all.”

I knew where the catch to the door was—I could dart back in if I moved quickly. But I didn’t think I could move at all at that moment: my legs seemed rooted to the spot. The memories of London all came flooding back, sharp, painful and ugly. An angry, sordid time. A cruel time, with Peck as supervisor of it all.