Page 15 of Reluctant Surrender

They’d shot him.

I yanked out my revolver, pulled back the hammer with my thumb. Just as Sammy brought his eyes back to me, he lunged for me. I pulled the trigger then ran. A bellow of rage followed me as I ran down the hall to the front door.

Lurch wasn’t at his post anymore; he must have gone out back to witness Stanley’s demise. I flung the door open and sprinted down the stairs and into the darkness of the night.

A gunshot rang out behind me.

I kept running.

Chapter 7

Lukas

“And the new DJ is going to be starting next week. He has a huge following that will bring in more business,” Camille, the new manager for Eclipse, read off her list. These monthly meetings were a pain in the ass, mostly because I didn’t give much of a shit about the club. So long as it produced cash, I didn’t worry about it.

“That’s good.” I nodded. Camille treated the club as her own baby. I had nothing to worry about so long as she ran the show. And as long as the accountants continued to report high-net incomes and reassured me all the pennies were counted and accounted for.

“I think we should really start talking about having higher end people attending the club. I’m sure we could get celebs and influencers in here without much trouble. But it is an extra cost.”

“You want me to pay people to party in my club?” I asked with wide eyes.

She kept a stern expression as she nodded. Camille had a solid footing in her forties, but she kept her appearance fresh and young.

“It’s normal, Mr. Kaczmarek. It’s how you get those people in here. Then they shout out to their followers where they’re headed, or how much fun they had. People show up to see them on the night they’re here, and then they keep showing up in the hopes to see them or someone else again.”

I stared at her for a long moment. “And did Piotr ever do this?” I asked, regarding my long dead cousin. This was his club, or had been. Not that he put any real effort into it. Had he, then maybe he could have kept his nose out of other people’s business and not have gotten himself killed.

“No. Your cousin didn’t like to do anything to market the club.” She sighed and leaned back in her chair, crossing her right leg over her left. The pencil skirt she wore rode up her thigh, exposing the tender flesh just above the hem.

“Well, that would explain the low income.” I averted my eyes away from her legs. She was an employee, and I didn’t get involved with employees.

“So, we can start?” she asked, the hope brimming in her tone.

“Yes. Go ahead. But keep the budget low,” I said, leaning forward. “Is there anything else?”

“No. That’s everything.” She snapped her binder closed and clicked her pen. “I’ll see you in one month.”

“Thanks, Camille.” I waved her off. She picked up her purse and let herself out of my home office.

I was just firing up my laptop when the door opened again and Johnny DeSantiago entered.

“Hey, Lukas.” He grinned and came to my desk with his hand outstretched. Andrezj walked in after Johnny and shut the door.

“I didn’t realize we had a meeting?” I looked at Andrezj who kept a bland expression.

“We didn’t.” Johnny shook his head then plopped into the chair Camille had just vacated. “I was in the neighborhood, so I stopped in.”

“You were just passing by?” I sank back into my chair. Johnny DeSantiago was one of the largest drug dealers in Chicago. He ran one of the smoothest operations I’d ever seen.

“Well, I do have a favor to ask.” He grinned. “I’m expanding and I’d like to send some guys into your club. Let them work the VIP rooms and such.” He steepled his hands.

“And the risk to me?” Having the cops raid the place would draw more attention than I wanted. The Kaczmarek family didn’t deal with drugs; we had other avenues that were more lucrative. Stream of income that helped keep us under the radar. Being part of some drug sting would ruin everything.

“None, really.” He lifted a shoulder. “You wouldn’t know who they were or where they’re working. You have complete plausible deniability. You’d never know when they were there or not. I never send the same crew into a club twice within a six-month period.”

“And the profitable reason I should do this?”

He laughed. “Five percent. We’re talking five grand a night on a slow night.”

---