Page 60 of Chase

First, he threatened to cut contact with her. I smiled to myself when she described his threat. Sam isn’t a lady who succumbs to intimidation. She told him he knew where the door was.

Then he tried the emotion card. Begging her to think of him and his feelings. How it felt for him while she danced for other men. He seemed to forget the fact that it was in the club where he met her. She described how he would turn up at her door with dozens of roses and throw himself onto his knees. She refused to quit every damn time.

He grew bored and impatient after around a month of flitting between these tactics. Jasper Hastings is a man used to getting what he wants. The first time he raised his hand to her was after a Saturday night performance, when he’d arrived to collect her after a show.

She had met him at the rear entrance to the club. He stood at the bottom of the rickety staircase waiting for her with a warm smile on his lips but ice in his heart. When she reached the bottom, he asked her, “Did you quit?” And when she gave an unsatisfactory answer, he dragged her from the last step to his car by her hair, throwing her onto the back seat before climbing in after and beating her.

My fury grew as she relived the incident before Russell and myself. She described in detail how he had pinned her down by straddling her, then held her wrists above her head in his left hand. His weight on her mid-section had kept her immobile as he struck her over and over. Her front tooth was broken in the vile incident. The following morning, she woke in his bed with black eyes, staring into the face of a private dentist employed to fix the injuries he inflicted.

The cycle continued for months, Sam not relenting to his demands and him responding with abuse. It wasn’t until her friend Mia noticed bruises that it was brought to the security team's attention at Guilty Pleasures. Hastings stormed into the club one night and pulled Sam from the stage. He’d been swiftly removed and warned physically never to return or contact her again.

We were surprised to hear he gave up so easily after his altercation with the team, but men like Jasper Hastings are cowards. They thrive on the pain of those they consider weaker than themselves. Sam, no doubt, was a conquest he desired to break, and the more she pushed back, the more he needed to control her.

When my brother and I discussed what happened after Sam had gone home, we both agreed that justice hadn’t been served. It was our job to ensure that the necessary punishment was distributed. Hastings deserves to pay, not only for the hell he put Sam through, but for every other woman he had hurt in his lifetime. I could guarantee that he’d merely have moved on to someone else. The only way to stop a bully is to take their power away.

So now, three days after she gave us the name we requested, we’re sitting outside the bastard’s place of work waiting for him. Harrison and Hunter are in the deep underground tunnels beneath the pavement, setting the stage for what we consider true justice. Damon unexpectedly left for Aviemore in Scotland yesterday after accepting the only way to be happy is to swallow his pride and apologize to the woman whose heart he broke. That brings our little band of vigilantes down to four, but we all have enough thirst for justice to make up for a lack in numbers.

“When did Blake say their meeting ends?” Russell asks me, clearly impatient to get on with the job. Another benefit of our position in this world is the people we meet and the ties we create.

Marshall Blake is an independent righter of wrongs. An influential businessman who spends his time monitoring the London sex industry after his sister was murdered, he was more than happy to help us set up Hastings. He knew Sam from Guilty Pleasures, so he immediately arranged a meeting with our target when he became aware of the situation.

“Eight,” I tell him for the umpteenth time. “He’ll message me when they head for the elevator.” Just then, my phone pings, and the message we have been waiting for pops on the screen.

It’s on. On street in five minutes. No one else.

My hand rests on the handgun sitting on my leg. Russell’s eyes flick to me, then the gun.

“How far are we going to go, brother?” he asks, his voice low and ominous.

“It depends on his responses to my questions, but if we have to…” I trail off, not needing to say the last words in the sentence. In my mind, there’s no doubt that Hastings will die tonight. He’ll disappear and never be found. He’ll pay for what he did to my girl and be stopped from doing it to anyone else in the future. Russell nods, and I see a flicker of excitement on his face.

“Good,” he says. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

Just then, the door opens across the street, and two men in suits enter the dark London night. I recognize Blake as he takes the other man’s hand and shakes it firmly. He turns and walks away, striding purposely, carrying a neat leather briefcase. Hastings watches him go, then moves toward a dark sports car at the curb.

I start the engine and swing across the road, pulling in front of the vehicle as he climbs in. He pauses, glancing up as I open the driver’s door.

“Well, if it isn’t Connor Chase,” he says jovially. He moves toward me, reaching out one hand to shake mine. “What brings you here? You certainly know how to make an entrance.” He gestures to my car blocking his.

“Business,” I reply shortly as Russell clambers out the passenger door. He pulls himself up on his crutches and makes his way around the cars to stand behind Hastings.

“Jeez, what happened to you?” Hastings asks my brother.

“Complications with a ladder.”

“Ouch,” he says, returning his focus to me. His eyes widen when he sees the gun in my hand pointing at his stomach. “What the fuck?”

“Get in our car,” I say simply.

“Will I, fuck!” He goes to move, and Russell’s gun slides into his back. He freezes.

“I suggest you do as he says,” my brother says menacingly.

“Do you honestly think you’ll get away with this?” Hastings snarls.

“I am one hundred percent sure we’ll get away with this. Now, get in the fucking car.”

London is home to an extensive underground system that goes far beyond the active railway. Beneath the streets are miles of disused tunnels and tube stations. Some places haven’t been seen by the human eye for decades. It’s here that we’re free to dispense our toughest justice. This is where we take the men who deserve never to see the light of day again. And that’s where Hastings will be ended too.

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