Chapter
Twelve
I WOULD have preferred not to go to the club that night but I was needed there, as was Sasha. For once we took a cab from my apartment, and I asked Sasha to pack some of his belongings to bring back to my place later. As we’d already talked about living together, there seemed no point not going ahead and doing it immediately. In addition there was no way I’d let Sasha spend another night in his studio, just in case.
The evening dragged, and it took a couple of hours before I relaxed and stopped looking over my shoulder. Nothing was going to happen in front of a club full of people. I kept telling myself that as I went to my office to do the books and see how many payments I could delay while I made the first payment on the loan. I felt sick as I looked at the account and remembered the wage roll needed to be met in a week’s time. What the fuck had I done?
Yet again, I wondered if I’d made a huge mistake. But it was too late to think that way, and all I could do was hope the man I’d paid would be lenient about the remainder of the money he wanted. Not that it was likely.
I locked the office and returned to the bar. Everything was just as it had been thirty minutes earlier—Kris, Sasha, and the other guys behind the bar mixing cocktails, but having the time to stop and chat between customers. Midweek was always calmer than the weekends. Sasha handed two cocktails to a guy and picked up a bag of chili-coated peanuts from the bar top. He poured a few into the palm of his hand and tossed them into his mouth. I heaved a sigh of relief and found a stool to sit on. He was fine.
“Hey, Joel.” Sasha leaned on the bar and stretched across toward me. “Are you okay?”
“A bit tense. I’m all right. Looking forward to getting you home tonight.”
Sasha grinned. “I have a surprise for you. Something that might take your mind off things.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.”
“Tease.”
“You’ll like it, I promise.” His eyes sparkled as he leaned closer.
“Are you flirting with me, young man?” I teased back.
“I thought it’d be a good way to get the boss on my side.”
“The boss is always on your side, babe.” I smiled back, but it quickly faded as I realized what I’d said. “The boss.” When would I hear from him again?
Another hour passed, and all was as it should be. I accepted a beer from Sasha, and then Kris interrupted him, lightly pushing his shoulder with one hand while he stirred a purple drink with the other.
“Hey, Sasha. We need more cherry brandy. Will you get some from the store?”
“Okay.” Sasha turned away and slipped out from behind the bar. I fiddled with my beer bottle, impatient for the night to end.
“Are you okay, Joel?” Kris shouted across the bar.
“Yeah.”
“You look stressed.”
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
He nodded and turned away. If only he knew how I felt at that moment. I checked my watch for the hundredth time and sighed. Barely midnight. The club was in full swing, with the dance floor busy and Tomáš on the podium surrounded by an eager crowd. I watched for a couple of minutes while he stroked his dick through the tiny silk shorts he wore, and several men reached up to push money into the garment. One guy took the opportunity to cup Tomáš between the legs and give him a squeeze. Rather than move away, Tomáš gyrated and thrust into the man’s hand. Frowning, I watched the scene play out, but it was nothing. A few seconds later Tomáš moved out of reach, and when his song was over, the man he’d flirted with reached up to touch his hand. Tomáš beamed down at him and climbed off the podium. The man followed him through the crowd and they headed upstairs to the private rooms. I shrugged. Just another horny customer paying extra to get a bit more than a dance in front of a crowd.
I turned back to the bar, surprised Sasha hadn’t yet returned. He’d only gone to fetch liquor. It took maybe two minutes at most to go to the storeroom, locate the appropriate box, and retrieve a couple of bottles. My heart stuttered and my breathing quickened. He’d been too long. Something had happened to him. One of “the boss’s” employees had been lurking in the club, waiting for Sasha to be alone.
Panicking, I jumped from my stool and charged into the rear of the club where the storeroom was located. The door was closed and locked. Where the hell was he?
“Sasha!” I strode along the corridor to the kitchen, then went to check the offices. “Sasha!”
“What’s wrong?” Sasha emerged from the staff toilets, his face anxious. “Did something happen?”
“Jesus Christ.” I jerked him into my arms and crushed him against me. “You came back here to get cherry brandy and you were gone too long. I thought—”
“I needed to use the toilet. I’m fine.” Sasha hugged me back.
I let him go and dragged a hand through my hair. “I’m sorry. I’m being an idiot.”
“No, you’re not. I’m nervous too. But nothing’s going to happen here, right?”
“I hope not.” I walked with him to the storeroom and waited while he selected the bottles he needed. “I just know I’ll hear from him soon. He’s not going to want to wait long for the rest of the money. I think I might have fucked up.”
“What do you mean? We talked about this. You did the best you could.”
“Maybe not. I don’t know anymore, but it’s too late to change things now.” I walked with Sasha back to the bar, cursing myself for being indecisive and probably sounding as scared as I felt. Usually I was tougher than this, but I’d never been in a situation like this before either.
I spent the rest of the night propping up the bar, relieved when it was time to lock up and go home. A line of cabs waited outside Červenà, each one quickly being commandeered by clubbers. I was used to the wait and I walked a little way up the street in the hopes of catching one before it parked in the line. Sasha followed a few steps behind me and called out that there was no rush.
“I’m impatient to get home. I want to see what the surprise is.”
“What surprise?” Sasha asked innocently.
“Whatever it is you’ve got planned.”
“Who says I have anything planned?”
I moved closer to him and brought my mouth to his ear. “If I’ve been sitting there all night looking forward to something that’s not going to happen, I’ll….”
“You’ll what?”
“Spank you!”
Sasha giggled. “Who knows? Maybe I’d like it.”
The teasing relaxed me and took my mind off things, at least a little bit. Most of my attention was now focused on what would happen when we reached my condo. I imagined Sasha continuing to tease me until I was forced to punish him the way I’d threatened. I’d never spanked anybody in my life, but the oddly kinky idea made my cock twitch as I thought about stripping Sasha’s pants and underwear to his knees and making him lie across my lap. I’d slap his asscheeks, just enough to sting a little and make him yelp. Then I’d caress the firm flesh and he’d get hard, gyrating and rubbing his dick against my leg. I grimaced, trying to ignore my semi as I walked a few yards up the street, more anxious than ever to get a cab.
Several cars turned into the street, and I waved one of them into the curb, relieved. I recognized the driver as one of my regulars, and he pulled in immediately, grinning toothily through the windshield. I turned to call to Sasha. A group of four men stood a few feet away from me, and I stepped sideways, trying to see Sasha behind them.
“Sasha!” The four guys turned to look at me, then shrugged and moved to another cab. People milled around, taking the other cars, and protesting loudly when they missed one. Sasha was nowhere to be seen.
“What the fuck? He was there thirty seconds ago,” I whispered. My stomach churned and my pulse raced. He had to be there. He couldn’t have disappeared that quickly. We’d been together, right there where I stood, and then I walked away from him for mere seconds and he was gone. “Sasha!” I called out again.
“You all right, mate?” The man who spoke was clearly from my neck of the woods, his accent indicating the North of England.
“My partner was right here. Slim, black hair, green eyes, black jacket and jeans, an inch shorter than me. We were talking right here on this spot, and I walked over there—” I gestured vaguely. “—to get a cab, and he’s gone. Did you see anything? Did you see him?”
“Done a runner, has he?” Another English guy grinned at me and draped his arm around the one who’d spoken to me first.
“No. We were moving in together. He was coming home with me.” I looked around desperately, expecting Sasha to appear before my eyes. As I looked down, I saw his bag by the wall, abandoned. “That’s his!” I snatched up the bag and clutched it to my chest. “He was right here. You must have seen something.”
“I’m sorry.” The first guy spoke again. “We were trying to get a cab like everybody else, and this idiot was puking in the gutter. Too many cocktails.”
“Okay. Sorry.” I backed away, utter terror filling me. Sasha, where are you?
“I saw him.” A young man with bright bottle-blond hair spoke in Czech. “My height, black hair, yes? Spiky at the front?”
“Yes! What did you see?”
“He was with you and then you walked up there, and then there was this other guy talking to him. Tall ugly man with thick lips. They got in a car together. I thought they were just getting a cab, but it wasn’t like the usual cars. I think it could have been a Mercedes. Big black saloon with dark windows.”
“Fuck!” I spat.
“Sorry, my friend. Did you get ditched?” Blondie looked at me sympathetically.
I shook my head. “Thanks.” Numbly I moved away from him and went to the cab that still waited for me. The messenger had got Sasha. Nausea made me stumble as I climbed into the backseat of the car and the driver glanced at me in the mirror.
“Too many beers tonight?”
“No. Just had a shock, that’s all.” I began to add my address, but he interrupted, telling me he knew where I wanted to go. He’d taken me there enough times. I sat rigidly in the seat, clutching Sasha’s bag as the car took me home. My heart pounded so hard I could hear it above the car’s engine and the music from the radio. I barely noticed the cab pulling up outside my building until the driver turned to speak to me. With shaking hands, I handed over some money. I had no idea what to do. When I reached my apartment I placed Sasha’s bag carefully on the couch as if it might break, then hovered by the phone, wondering who to call.
The police was my first thought, but I couldn’t forget what I’d been told about what would happen if I did that. They’d hurt Sasha, and now they had him, it would be too much of a risk. Out of my depth, I felt sick at my inability to keep my lover safe. I should have found the money. I should have persuaded the bank to lend me more.
The phone rang and I snatched it up.
“Mr. Jones?”
“Who else would it be?” I snapped.
“Now, now. Temper isn’t a good idea.”
“Where’s Sasha?” I demanded. “What have you done to him?”
“Sasha is fine, completely unharmed.”
“I want to speak to him.”
“I don’t think you’re in any position to make demands.” The man chuckled.
“I want to know for sure he’s all right. Please.”
“Very well. Wait.”
I listened to a long silence, broken only by the sound of a door slamming. Eventually, muffled voices reached me before Sasha spoke into the phone. “Joel? I’m okay. They didn’t hurt me.”
“Thank God. I’m so sorry this happened, I’ll—”
“That’s enough.” Sasha was gone, and “the boss” was on the other end of the line again. “You heard what he said. He’s unhurt. That will not be the case this time tomorrow if you do not settle your debt. I warned you and you paid me short.”
“I told you I could only get eleven million.”
“And I told you it wasn’t enough. You have twenty-four hours. At that time you’ll receive another call, and perhaps hear from your little bartender if he’s still capable of speech. If payment hasn’t been made, it will increase by five hundred thousand each day until it’s settled.”
I opened my mouth to protest but the line had been disconnected, and I dropped the phone onto the table. Then as pointless as I’d told myself it was, I picked it up again and called the police. I spoke to the officer who’d been to see me before—he was working a night shift. Given the dire circumstances and the connection to Karel’s murder, he promised to be with me in thirty minutes, and I spent that time worrying I’d made the wrong decision. What could they do when they had nothing to go on except the description of the man who’d taken Sasha from outside the club? What could they do that wouldn’t put him in more danger?
I paced the room as I waited, and when the officer arrived, he had two others with him, one of whom set to work on my phone. He installed various pieces of equipment to try to trace the origins of the last incoming call and any future calls. When this was done, I took him to the club to set up surveillance equipment on the phone there. After we returned to the apartment, I told the officers everything I could, including the details of the bank account I’d sent the money to. The questions seemed to go on for hours, but there was little I could say that would be helpful. Every minute that passed made me regret calling them a little bit more. I’d known it was a mistake even as I’d dialed the officer’s number, but desperation had prompted me, and now all I could think was that “the boss” would know what I’d done and Sasha would be hurt, maybe even killed.
MORNING CAME, and I took a shower and forced myself to eat something. Two of the cops remained in the apartment in case of contact being made, and I made them coffee and toast. My body yearned for sleep, but I was too keyed up. Instead I made my coffee extra strong and downed several cups while I tried to decide what to do. The warning I’d received hours before rang in my ears, and I feared the police wouldn’t be able to find the people who’d taken Sasha before it was too late.
Noon passed with no further calls being received. Frantic, I made a decision to go to the club. It wasn’t as if I never did that during the afternoons and I had no doubt Sasha’s kidnappers would know where to find me. I announced my intention as I put on a jacket and shoes, and was asked to wait for another officer to accompany me for my own safety.
“I’m not concerned about my safety. They won’t do anything to me. They want me to pay them,” I said more confidently than I felt.
The cop argued with me for a couple of minutes, but eventually conceded I was probably right. These men—whoever they were—were unlikely to attack their current source of income. So I left the condo and took a cab back to the club. The cleaning staff were due to arrive at any time, so I left the staff door unlocked and went to my office. I’d barely had the chance to take off my jacket and sit down at the desk when my cell phone rang, the display showing a withheld number. I answered it immediately, my heart thundering in my chest as I wondered if this could be “the boss.” The calls had only been made via my landlines so far.
“Mr. Jones. So you went against my wishes.”
“What do you mean?”
“You have police at your home. Your phones have been tapped. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
“I—”
“They’re wasting their time. One of my trusted employees advised me the moment they arrived. How far do you think a person can travel in twelve hours, Mr. Jones?”
“Where are you?” I demanded. “Where’s Sasha?”
“Oh, he’s here. Proving what a whining little baby he can be.”
“Let me talk to him!” I cried, clutching the phone tighter to stop it slipping from my sweaty palm.
“All in good time. What are you going to do to rectify this situation? You’ll be aware the balance due is now four and a half million. I don’t make deals, Mr. Jones. And I don’t accept half measures. You will pay what’s due if you want to see your bartender again.”
“I can’t… I… it’ll take some time to—”
“Just remember the balance increases daily, and my employee here does seem to enjoy his new plaything.”
“What the fuck has he done to Sasha?” Immediately all the worst things I could imagine filled my head—Sasha being beaten, kicked, tied up, raped. I gulped and covered my mouth, struggling not to throw up the gallon of coffee I’d drunk earlier.
“So far not a great deal.”
“Please, let me talk to him,” I begged, hating myself for sounding so desperate.
A chuckle came in my ear, then the sound of footsteps. A door creaked open and a moment later, I heard Sasha’s voice, faint and shaking. “Please….”
“Your man wants to talk to you.”
I waited, trembling, until Sasha spoke directly into the phone. “Joel….”
“Oh, God, Sasha,” I groaned. “What have they done to you?”
“I’m… okay.”
“You’re hurt. Did they…? Please tell me they didn’t—”
“I just… I have a few bruises. That’s all.”
A muffled thud came down the phone, followed by a groan. Then “the boss” came back on the line. “You see? He’s still in one piece. I can’t promise that will continue. You will pay.”
“I’ll sort it out. I promise. Please, don’t hurt him anymore.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know. As soon as I can. Please, just—”
“I’m not a patient man, Mr. Jones. You have until midnight tomorrow. Write down these details. I have a different bank account for you.”
I grabbed a pen and wrote down the account number. Of course he had a different one. The first was probably empty and closed. As soon as I confirmed I had the number, the line went dead, and I slumped against the desk, tears pricking my eyes. What the hell was I going to do? Short of asking Rosalyn for money and having to tell her what was going on, I couldn’t see how— Suddenly I knew what I had to do. After everything that had happened, it was probably for the best anyway. I needed to take Sasha away, somewhere I knew he’d be safe, where I wouldn’t always be looking over my shoulder. Even with the debt paid, how would I know they’d leave us alone? I knew nothing about this underworld of gambling and murder.
Snatching up the landline phone, I punched at the buttons in an effort to find the list of recently received calls. There had been very few, and I didn’t expect any number to be revealed to show where “the boss” had called from, but that wasn’t what I was looking for.
I recognized a couple of local numbers from suppliers I used and then found one unknown number. Hoping for the best, I dialed from my cell phone, conscious that I was avoiding having the police equipment record my call. Rash it may be, but I couldn’t think of any other way.
“Yes?” A woman answered, which surprised me for some reason.
“I’d like to speak to Vincenc Jankovic, please.”
“Who is this?”
“My name is Joel Jones. I own the nightclub, Červenà. Mr. Jankovic called me recently and I’d like to get in touch with him.”
“Hold, please.”
I was treated to an oddly jolly brass band tune while I waited… and waited. Minutes ticked by and I wondered whether she’d forgotten about me, but then I heard a click and a man spoke. I immediately recognized his voice.
“Mr. Jones. Or may I call you Joel?”
“Please do.”
“I’m somewhat surprised to receive your call.”
“I had a change of heart. I wondered if you are still interested in the club.”
“Hmm. You seemed so adamant you wouldn’t sell. What changed?”
“I’m in trouble,” I blurted. If anybody would understand my predicament, this mobster’s son would. “You remember speaking to my ex-partner, Karel Doubrava?”
“Oh yes. Dead, isn’t he?”
“Murdered. Yes. He ran up huge gambling debts. He had no family and the man he owed has come after me. I borrowed what I could from the bank, but it’s not enough. He’s kidnapped my bartender. My, um….”
“Lover?” Vincenc prompted.
“Yes.”
“Yes, I doubt anybody would sound so desperate over an employee. Who is this man?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen him, only spoken to him on the phone. He has an employee who’s been to the club—tall, ugly, thick lips.”
There was a long silence. I caught faint muffled voices and realized Vincenc had probably covered the mouthpiece with his hand. Eventually he spoke again.
“The man you spoke of is Polish. The leader, I mean. Piotr Kowalski. A member of my family has come across him in the past. A weak man, but spiteful.”
“Thanks, but I need to know. Are you still interested in Červenà?”
“I think I could be persuaded. I offered your partner twenty-five million. Is this acceptable?”
I calculated in my head. Eight to pay back the bank, four and a half or maybe five to pay off Piotr Kowalski, that left around twelve million over, which equated to three hundred thousand pounds. I still had the condos. With three hundred grand I could buy a business in England. Not in London, but somewhere not too far. Maybe a small bar.
“Joel?” Vincenc prompted.
“It’s acceptable,” I breathed. “How soon…?”
“How soon can you have the money?” He sounded as if he were smiling. “How soon can you have the sale papers drawn up?”
“I’ll need to call my solicitor. Maybe today if I lean on him.”
“Make an appointment. I’ll attend and sign the documents. Then we’ll go to Červenà, you can show me around and I’ll use my new office to transfer the money.”
“Thank you.” I almost choked. “I really appreciate—”
“I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart. I want the club. We have a mutual enemy. I don’t like to waste time in business. Make the call to your solicitor. I’ll be waiting to hear from you.” He hung up before I could respond and I sank back in my chair, shaking all over. I’d done it. I’d sold, or was about to sell the club I’d built up from nothing and loved for so long, but it was nothing to what I felt for Sasha. Soon he’d be safe, and I’d take him back to England. Now I just had to find a way to tell the loyal staff I was about to abandon them.