Above and Beyond Page 7

  “It’s Sunday and we’re closed. There will be a few people in to do the weekly cleaning anyway. I don’t want you in the club when we close. If there are a lot of people around, then you have some cover and it will be harder for anyone watching the club to pick you out. After two in the morning, we’re pretty easy to spot on the street.”

  “What do you want him to do if he spots someone he knows?” Salvatore asked. He was concerned that they put something in place, some signal.

  “Spook and I will be on the floor at all times. And you will be in charge at the doors. Hank is going to be behind the bar. I’ll speak to him, but all you need to do is get any of us. If you can’t see Spook or me, go to Hank right away. He’s always behind the bar, and you have regular contact with him. Salvatore, if you have any suspicions at the door, you’re to call either of us. Basically, we all back each other up and stay alert.” Bull looked at each of them, and they all nodded.

  “Then I should probably get things started and ready for opening,” Elliott said, standing up and starting to lower the chairs to the floor.

  “He needs to keep busy,” Salvatore said softly.

  “We’ll watch for any trouble in the club. You do your best to keep it from getting in the door.” Bull stood and pushed his chair under the table, then gathered up the bottles. Hank arrived, and he and Bull spent some time behind the bar, probably going over what they had discussed, as well as what they could expect for the night.

  Salvatore got everything set at the door to handle cover charges and reviewed the evening’s procedures with all the guys, as well as Bull’s no-tip rule.

  “You have to be kidding me,” one of the guys, Hugo, groused. “How are we supposed to make any money?”

  “You aren’t supposed to be taking tips to let people in at all,” Salvatore explained. “That ends now, and if you aren’t happy about that”—he pointed to the street—“there’s the road.” He wasn’t going to take that kind of graft happening from anyone.

  Hugo actually thought about it, and Salvatore was moments from firing the guy outright, except he wanted to talk to Bull first. He would when he got the chance, and maybe they would need to hire someone else in the end anyway. “Fine.”

  “If I see anything, you’re gone. That goes for all of you. This is a business, and Bull sets the rules. We aren’t supposed to be making deals or lining our own pockets, ever.” He started to tell all of them he wasn’t playing games. “Now, there have been rumors that local drug gangs are going to try to get in to deal.”

  “No way,” Hugo said. “That shit gives us all a bad name.”

  Well, at least some of his talk might have gotten through.

  “Then we all need to be vigilant. Check for weapons, as well as anyone trying to carry in. If in doubt, ask people to stand to the side. Bull or I will deal with them. We can call the police if needed, but we don’t need to confront anyone or put ourselves in any danger.”

  “What about the smart-mouths?”

  Salvatore knew exactly what he was talking about. “This is a private establishment, and no one has a God-given right to get in. If protestors show up, they can protest across the street if they wish.” A few groups had tried to protest right in front of the club a few months ago, and the patrons had pretty much squeezed them off the sidewalk and out into the street. It was a beautiful thing. A few of the drag queens had even strode up and had pictures taken with them. That had unnerved the protestors more than anything else. “Are there any more questions?”

  No one said anything, so Salvatore set the men up at the door. Since it was Saturday, they usually opened a little earlier. The music began and the lighting lowered, lasers and strobes starting. Salvatore unlocked the door, and the guys started the search process with the first few patrons.

  The front door grew busier as the hours passed. Salvatore was able to check on Elliott a few times to make sure that he was okay and that he hadn’t seen anyone familiar in the club. As of about nine, everything was going just fine. They had busted a few guys for trying to carry in liquor and sent them on their way. One guy had a knife, and he was told he could check it or leave. He left as well. Sometimes it struck Salvatore just how dumb some people were and what they would try to get away with.

  “Salvatore?” Hugo said, getting his attention and pointing toward a guy who seemed very uncomfortable as he stood in line.

  “I see him. When he gets to the front of the line, I’ll handle him.”

  The more Salvatore watched him and the way he moved, the more he was certain this guy was suspicious. Most of the guys in line talked to the people around them, excitedly waiting to get inside. This guy looked like it was as enjoyable a prospect as pulling teeth. He kept trying to turn into himself, and looked around nervously, probably to see if he was recognized. It was almost painful to watch, and part of Salvatore got a perverse pleasure out of it.

  When the man reached the front, Salvatore patted him down as he tried to stay sharp and keep his heart from running the hell away. He expected to find a gun or a weapon, but there was nothing. The man nearly jumped out of his skin as soon as Salvatore touched him, though.

  He met the man’s eyes. “You don’t belong here,” he said without threatening him, but that much was clear.

  “You all need to repent,” the man said, finally finding his voice.

  “And you need to stop being so damned nervous. You’re going to wet yourself.” Salvatore chuckled and motioned to the side as his heart rate slowed back to normal. This guy wasn’t here for Elliott. “You have a good night and move on.”

  “But….” He pulled out his money.

  “You can do your preaching and proselytizing someplace else. Now quietly move on.” Salvatore motioned and puffed up a little, and the man headed on down the street, probably not wanting the trouble.

  “That was interesting,” Hugo said from next to him.

  “Yeah. That happens every now and then.” Salvatore turned to the others. “The thing is to kill them with kindness. They aren’t going to get in, so just be nice about it and they have nothing to fight against.” He turned as the man got into a car and drove away. “Keep an eye out.” He had a feeling something was going to happen… and when they least expected it.

  THE FRONT door ran smoothly all night. There were plenty of people wanting to get in, including a bachelorette party.

  “Why come here?” Salvatore asked the bride with a smile. He was just a little curious.

  She grinned. “The guys are nice, they know how to dance, they look good, and we don’t have to worry about being hit on. It’s the perfect place. And I want to have some fun.”

  They weren’t wearing all that much, so it was easy enough to see that they weren’t hiding anything. Still, he checked over each of the ladies and let them inside with a bemused smile and a notion that the evening just got a little rowdier than they’d expected.

  “We’ve got this here,” Hugo said. He had really changed his tune since their earlier talk. “Go check that everything is okay inside.”

  Salvatore met his gaze, trying to see if he was up to something.

  “Don’t worry. I heard what you said, loud and clear.” He nodded, and Salvatore went inside.

  The club was hopping, that was for sure. He looked over the crowd to check for trouble and to see if he could find Elliott. It took a few minutes, but then he came through his line of sight on his way to the bar. Salvatore tilted his head, and Elliott came over. “Is everything okay? No issues?”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a guy who couldn’t keep his hands to himself.” Elliott turned to a table where a guy dabbed at his clothes with a napkin. “He wanted a glass of water, and some of it spilled all over his lap. That should cool him off.”

  “You didn’t…,” Salvatore said.

  “No, I didn’t. One of his tablemates did the honors—I just got to witness the glorious bit of karma.” Elliott smiled. “Is everything okay for you? No issues?”

 
; “None worth worrying about.” Salvatore had been hoping that something would happen. The waiting and expecting some sort of move kept him on his toes, but not knowing if it was coming or not was nerve-racking. “Keep your eyes open, and we’ll do the same.” He squeezed Elliott’s hand and then released it again. “I need to get back.”

  “I’ll call if I see anything.”

  “Me too.” God, Salvatore wanted to step forward, wrap Elliott in his arms, kiss him within an inch of his life, and make sure he was safe forever. Maybe take him home and keep him behind locked doors so no one could hurt him. But Elliott wasn’t his, and it would be a shame to lock away someone as amazing as him. His heart hurt at the thought, just like his blood raced whenever his mind turned to the fact that someone was after him. Salvatore smiled and tried to put down the images his mind conjured up of Elliott in the whirlpool, only in his mind, they were alone and Elliott’s bathing suit suddenly slipped down past his hips and….

  Salvatore pulled his thoughts back to the present and told Elliott he’d see him later before returning to the front door.

  The club filled up by eleven, and after that, the line barely moved. They had to wait for people to leave before letting others in. It was the time of night when tempers flared and patience ran thin. Some guys left rather than wait, while a few others tried to muscle or even pay their way in.

  “You need to wait with the others,” Salvatore told a man in his early thirties when he approached him.

  The man pulled some bills from his pocket and peeled off a couple of hundreds. “There’s someone inside that I’m supposed to meet.” His voice was smooth, and his eyes were filled with confidence.

  “I see.” Salvatore took the bills, handed them to Hugo, and checked his identification, all the while his suspicions rising. Then he asked the man to stand still while he patted him down. “It must be some meeting.” He snatched the knife from his waist. “Is this the kind of thing you really take to meet someone?” Salvatore raised his eyebrows as he held the man in place. “Get Bull,” he told Hugo, who ducked inside immediately.

  “What’s all this about?” The guy tried to pull away, but Salvatore held him in place until Spook joined them.

  “I found him first,” Hugo said as Spook charged up to the man Salvatore held.

  “Carson,” Spook said, calmly.

  “You know him?” Salvatore asked.

  “Yes. You can let him go,” Spook said. “He isn’t going to try anything… at least not now.” Spook held Carson’s gaze, and he nodded. “Come inside. I think we need to talk.”

  Carson nodded. “It would seem so.”

  “You too, Salvatore,” Spook added.

  Salvatore made sure the guys had the door and followed Spook inside and around the dancing mob of guys—where he noticed that the bridal party seemed to be having the time of their lives—to the back-room area.

  “You should get Elliott.”

  “He should be going on break.” Salvatore was already signaling him at the bar. Elliott held up two fingers and took his tray of drinks toward his tables. Salvatore waited for him to finish. “Is it break time?”

  “God yes,” Elliott said.

  Salvatore pointed toward the office. Instantly Elliott’s posture stiffened, but he walked ahead of him, the music from the club shutting off as soon as the door closed behind them.

  The small security office was just inside the door, built as part of the latest renovations. “What’s going on?” Elliott asked. Spook and Bull sat across from Carson. Elliott didn’t react to him, and looked at Bull and Spook.

  “This is Carson,” Spook said calmly. “He and I have a history together. Most of it pretty good, which is sort of a miracle.’

  “Lowell here saved my life once.” Carson turned back to Spook. “So, what are you doing here? This can’t be a coincidence. Did this job get contracted twice?”

  “Spook is the head of security for the club. He’s been on the staff for a couple of years now,” Bull explained. “He isn’t in the business any longer. Hasn’t been for a while.” He seemed surprisingly relaxed as he reached across the table. “Bull Krebs.”

  Carson whistled. “Okay. So, I stepped into old friends week or something.”

  “Maybe a little. Look, we want to know why you’re here. You mentioned a job. What is it and who hired you?” Spook got right down to business.

  “Was it my stepfather?” Elliott asked as he approached the table. He and Salvatore took the last two seats in the room.

  Carson turned to Elliott, then reached into his light jacket, pulled out a picture, and laid it on the table. It was definitely Elliott.

  “What were you supposed to do?” Spook asked. “What was the job?”

  “What was the knife for?” Salvatore pressed.

  Spook turned to him. “It’s his weapon of choice. Carson could throw his knife across the dance floor out there, through a damned crowd, and only hit the person he wanted.” He turned back to Carson as Elliott paled, and Salvatore steadied him so he didn’t fall out of his chair. “I think it’s time to lay the cards on the table,” Spook said. “No games, just the truth.”

  “I don’t know who hired me. The job came through my agent. All cash, paid in advance. I was to bring home my target. I got a bonus if he was alive, but it wasn’t necessary.” He spoke so matter-of-factly, and Salvatore wanted to beat the living shit out of the guy.

  “And this is the kind of work you do?” Salvatore asked.

  Carson turned to him. “Yeah, the world is one sick place.” He shifted his attention to Spook. “You know how these jobs go. You take it, you do it, and you turn off your emotions. Whatever you think or feel doesn’t matter. I’m sure Elliott is a nice guy, and whoever paid for the job is—”

  “A total piece of shit,” Salvatore said.

  “Yeah, we know the drill. But now we have a problem. You aren’t going to complete your contract. That’s the price. You owe me one, and I’m collecting. Just walk away.”

  Carson nodded. “You know I will. But what about the next guy? And there will be another. That’s how these things work. I’ll return the money, but someone else is likely going to take it.”

  Salvatore jumped to his feet. “This is an innocent person, you know that? It’s his rotten stepfather who’s trying to get him.” His temper couldn’t handle any more.

  “Okay. I get that, and I can also understand that you care for the guy. But facts are facts, and I can’t alter them just because I have a change of heart. I’m telling you, all of you, what’s going to happen.”

  “Salvatore, please sit back down,” Elliott said. “Is there any way you can find out who actually paid you? I know there’s probably stuff in place to keep things secret, but could you find out?”

  “Probably,” Carson said.

  “Then do so,” Spook told him. “You’re involved now, whether you like it or not. This job just turned into a clusterfuck for you. But we need your help.” Spook leaned over the table. “I know you, and I know why you do what you do.”

  “Don’t… talk… about it,” Carson hissed.

  “No. That’s your business. We all have our reasons for doing this shit, but there comes a time for all of us when the cost is too great. When we run the danger of losing our soul.” Spook spoke like someone who knew exactly what he was talking about.

  “You have to have one to lose it,” Carson said, putting up his hands. “Look.” He turned to Elliott, who was still pale. “I’ll do what I can to help you get proof of who’s behind this. I owe Spook a favor and I pay my debts. But I don’t know what else I can do to help you.”

  “Maybe give us a couple of days. Stall for some time, find out what you can. At least it will give us a chance to get to the bottom of this and see if we can’t figure out a way to make this all end,” Spook said.

  “But it doesn’t seem to matter. I’m never going to be able to just live my life. This is going to follow me forever. My bastard stepfather is going to hound
me until I’m dead or living the rest of my life under his control.” There was a hint of panic in Elliott’s voice.

  “That’s what we’re all trying to see doesn’t happen.” Salvatore tried to soothe him, but probably wasn’t successful. “You have plenty of people in your corner, including all of us… well, except this Carson guy, but it seems even he’s going to help. You have to keep your head and not panic. That’s when you get into trouble.” He took Elliott’s hand, trying to comfort him, but all he got was nerves from him. Not that Salvatore blamed him. This sort of thing wasn’t really something people usually thought about.

  Carson stood. “Look, I’m out of this. I’ll stall as long as I can, then return the money and see what information I can get. But I can’t find out anything until after I return the cash.” He didn’t seem happy, but it appeared the debt he owed Spook was worth more than he was being paid. That was probably the only reason he was backing away. “I’m going to leave you all to your strategy session, and I’ll be in touch with Spook in a few days.” He went for the door, and Spook left along with him.

  Elliott still seemed about ready to fall out of his chair. “What about bringing the fight to my stepfather? Could we put a hit out on him? He has to have a ton of enemies. If he’s done the things I think he has, then there are enemies galore.”

  “I don’t think so,” Bull said. “Getting someone to take care of you is a pretty low-risk, quick kind of job. I’m not being harsh, just truthful. Taking out someone like Antonio Losquaro is going to take a lot more money than any of us has. Not that there are many people who would be willing to take on that kind of job in the first place, regardless of the money offered.” Bull drummed his fingers on the top of the table. “But I understand what you’re thinking. Right now, he’s the one bringing it, and that puts us at his mercy. There has to be a way to take the fight to him.”

  Salvatore nodded. “How do we do that?”

  “I’m not sure. You need to keep Elliott safe until we can figure something out.” Bull stood. “I have to go back out there. Elliott, do you want to finish your shift? You can stay in here if you want.”