Page 28 of The Devil Can Be Kind

We drove until the small brick buildings had turned into towering stone ones, interspersed with skyscrapers built of glass. Streetlights and glowing neon signs lit up the darkening night sky as pedestrians littered the streets, collecting in groups and making their way to various restaurants or nightclubs for the evening. My excitement began to grow as we pulled out in front of a particularly luxurious building with crowds of people queuing outside.

The car rolled to a stop and numerous people ogled the vehicle, craning their heads to see who was inside.

Jesse promptly came around and opened the door, escorting me onto the sidewalk. A security guard standing beside the club’s private entrance came forward as we approached, and Jesse tossed him the keys without so much as a glance.

“You get used to it.” Jesse whispered after seeing my discomfort, and I let him pull me the rest of the way inside the building.

We walked into a grand entryway, lined with black mirrors and a few steps that led down to the members only area. It was classy and totally unlike the stereotypical nightclub I had imagined we would be going to. Everything was modern and black, lit up with deep purple LEDs that emanated from hidden parts of the ceiling and lined every surface.

We made our way to the bar and the mingling crowd parted around us. Fear and awe painted on every face we passed, and it didn’t take a genius to work out what word would be on their lips:Mafia. Clearly Marco’s clientele was used to the spectacle of handguns and designer suits. I forgot just how intimidating Jesse looked to someone who didn’t know him…

We stopped opposite a Goliath of a man and Jesse slapped him on the back by way of greeting.

“Bandit, this is Alonso. Alonso, Bandit.” He introduced us.

Aside from being incredibly tall, Alonso was built like a brick shithouse and absolutely covered in muscle. He looked to be mid-thirties and had a distinctly rugged look about him, like he cut down trees or something in his spare time. Though, surprisingly, his eyes seemed kind and friendly.

“Bandit, Tom and the others are also here to keep an eye on you.” He gestured to three or so other burly young men standing behind Alonso. “Now, for the love of God, behave!”

He started to walk off, but I grabbed his arm.

“Where are you going?” I huffed, suddenly nervous to be away from him.

He patted my head condescendingly and I smacked him on the arm. He grinned.

“Over there.” He pointed to the corner of the room.

It was only then that I noticed a small, raised platform in the corner that housed a simple and very luxurious seating arrangement. Layton and Wyatt stood either side of its entrance, which meant that Marco was somewhere amongst the various people crowding the space. My eyes scanned the unfamiliar faces until my eyes landed on him. He was off to the side talking with another man who seemed slightly older, but my attention was quickly drawn to the scantily clad women sat on either side of them. Lapping at their stomachs and stroking down their legs seductively as they talked.

I scowled at the sight.

“Be careful you don’t catch anything,” I muttered, disgusted, and he grinned mischievously before heading off toward them.

I sighed, slightly annoyed I’d been left but happy to get a drink and try to enjoy my relative freedom.

I stood by the bar and settled in for the long wait for service, but all of twenty seconds passed before the bartender placed a coconut lime spritzer in front of me. I didn’t even have to ask.

I shot Alonso a curious look and he just smiled.

“Alonso, I don’t have any money to pay for this.” I admitted, leaning closer to him to shout over the music.

The poor guy had to lean halfway over just to hear my question, dwarfing me in the process.

“They know who you are, it just goes on the Boss’s tab.”

“One of the perks of being a captive, I take it?” I rolled my eyes, and he laughed. “What are you having?”

“Not allowed alcohol while on duty, Ma’am.” He smiled, holding up his bottle of water.

“Fantastic.” I groaned.

Drinking alone always sucked.

Not knowing exactly what to do anddefinitelynot drunk enough to start dancing, I hovered by the bar drinking.

Half an hour later and my third cocktail finished—I was bored.

I glanced over to the booth where Marco was having his ‘business’ meeting to see if it showed any signs of finishing soon. Unfortunately for me, discussions seemed to still be in full swing with no end in sight.

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