Page 92 of Chase

“Show some respect for your patrons,” I growl.

“My pub, my rules. And yer no a customer if you’ve no paid. Take yer fancy suit and fuck off.”

Sam glances up at me and shakes her head before focusing back on the cunt behind the worktop. “Sorry about my friend,” she says, her voice meek. Her tone is nothing like I’ve heard from her before. The use of the word friend as a descriptor pisses me off too. I squeeze her hip, and she nips the skin on the outside of my hand between razor-sharp nails. “We were hoping you could help us. Check the phone app, Russ.”

“He’s here,” I say, looking around the chaos, but my brother is nowhere to be seen.

“Our friend has gone walk about. His ‘find my phone’ app says he’s here. Have you seen him?” She pulls her own mobile out and shows the guy a photo of Connor and her in front of the London Eye. I wonder if she has any pictures of the two of us on her phone that she flashes at people. “He had bad news at work, and we want to ensure he’s okay.”

“Guys like that don’t come in here, sweetheart. Look around.” He gestures with his hand at his clientele. “But feel free to check, as long as you buy a drink.”

I drop a fifty-pound note on the counter. “No drinks required,” I say. “Come on, Trouble. This is good for locating someone within ten meters. He can’t be far.” We follow the little blue dot that marks Connor’s position; it brings us to the bathroom doors. We both stare at the dark wood with the tattered yellowed signs designating men and women. “You look in yours, and I’ll do mine.”

I step through the door, pushing on the gold finger plate, and my hand sticks to the surface. On entering the bathroom I immediately wash my hands.

“Connor,” I say loudly. “Where are you, bro?” I half expect to find him passed out in a stall. A few minutes later, Sam appears behind me. “This is the gents,” I tell her.

“I’ve been in worse,” she replies, then starts kicking each cubicle door open. “He’s not here.”

“But his phone must be,” I mutter, now genuinely concerned about where the fuck he is. Sam is ripping the lids off the toilet cisterns one by one. Within seconds, she holds up two handsets, both of which I recognize as my brothers.

“Shit,” I say, stunned that we haven’t found him and panicking at what the outcome of our little search could mean. We have more enemies than I care to admit. My brother missing and his phones stashed can only mean something bad is happening. “I’ll call the others.”

Samantha walks over and passes me the two mobiles. Her face tells me she’s terrified. I place my hand on her cheek in an attempt to manage her building fear, but the next words from her lips are like a punch to the gut.

“I can’t lose him,” she whispers, choked with emotion. “I love him.”

Chapter thirty-five

The Level Boardroom

Russell

The boardroom is buzzing with a mixture of adrenaline, fear, and vengeance. No one sits—every person here is standing or moving around impatiently as we search for my brother, my best friend on this earth. The man who has stood by me through thick and thin, from our days of being beaten by our father until now, when we’re the men distributing the retribution.

Damon and Hunter are standing by the large screen running through the CCTV footage from near the bar where Connor’s phones were found. With so many people, it’s hard to zone in on anyone in particular. According to the tracker, Connor left the office at 5:24 p.m., and his phones were placed in the toilet cistern seventy-two minutes later. So, somewhere between 5:24 p.m. and 6:36 p.m., he was waylaid.

Harrison and Emma are watching a second screen, this one nearer the river, where Connor’s phone paused for a while before being taken to the pub. If someone snatched him, it most likely happened there.

“Have you found anything?” Damon asks. He walks up behind his new partner and trails his fingers across her shoulders. She glances up at him, her eyes concerned.

“Not yet,” she replies.

“Ma-ma,” the voice of a small child calls, and their daughter, Annie, wanders over to her, arms wide from where Samantha and Violet were taking care of the two children. Evie, my niece, crawls around the floor, grabbing the legs of furniture and people’s feet.

“There’s my girl,” Emma coos, lifting Annie onto her knee before returning to look at the screen.

“There,” Hunter shouts, pointing at the video. He gestures to a man walking through the crowd fast, dressed smartly and clearly out of place. “That’s the bastard.”

“How do you know?” Sam asks as she walks up to stand beside him. She stares intently as they replay the video, then zooms in on the man’s face. Her eyes screw up, focusing in on the grainy footage. “He just looks like a normal guy.”

“I know a nasty bastard when I see one, and someone who is working under instruction,” he tells her. “I’ve taken many off the streets. That isn’t a man going to the pub for an after-work beer. Do you think your old friends in the force could run facial recognition on that, McKinney?”

Damon looks up on hearing his name from being crouched beside Emma. “Sure, it’s not as if I’ve asked too many favors already.” He rolls his eyes, but his mobile is already at his ear.

My sister comes to my side as I pace up and down the windows that look out to the city below. “Where is he?” I mumble, and Violet slips her hand into mine. “Fuck, we can’t lose him.” She squeezes my palm, but the devastation is written all over her features. She’s losing hope alongside me. Our family has lost so much and taken dozens of blows; the chances of us coming out of another attack with us all unscathed are minuscule.

“Russ, look at this,” Harrison calls, and we move to his shoulder. He focuses the screen on a group of businessmen standing in a circle. Another man in a suit with a briefcase joins them. “That’s him. That’s Connor,” he says. “Come on, where did you go? And why the fuck did you stop?”

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