Page 16 of Past Due

Chapter Four

Seated behind his desk at the jewel in his strip club empire, Besian scrolled down through the month’s accounts. Maesha and her team of CPAs handled the payroll and taxes and accounting for his legitimate businesses, but he still liked to keep his fingers on the pulse of things. He liked to see what was coming in and what was going out on a daily basis.

He picked up his ceramic mug and sipped his coffee. The caffeine was the only thing keeping him going tonight. All day, he had been on his feet. He had started at Ben’s shop where he had given orders to shore up their defenses and clear out anything questionable for the inevitable shakedown. After that, there had been a tense meeting with Nikolai and some of the other underworld dons. He’d skipped lunch in favor of a handful of antacids and a bottle of Gatorade.

Then, he had met up with his bookies, sent out the collections crews and scheduled the next big poker night for his underground casino. He had managed a simple dinner in the silence of his apartment before starting the rounds of his clubs. There was always something had to be handled. Dancers fighting about stage time. Bouncers treating customers too roughly. Bartenders dipping into the take. Customers touching the girls who didn’t want to be touched or being fucking perverts to the ones who allowed it.

“It’s open,” he called out when someone knocked on the door.

“Boss?” Marcos, the club’s top bouncer, poked his head through the door. “Uh, you got a visitor.”

He frowned. “Who?”

“Ben’s old lady.”

“Aston?” He set aside his coffee cup and rose from his chair as she came into his office. Used to seeing her so beautifully polished and preppy, he was taken aback by the snarl of blonde hair wound into a messy bun atop her hair. Her wrinkled loungewear, the top pulled tight around her pregnant belly, and the fuzzy pink slippers deepened his concern. “What’s wrong? Is it Ben?”

Aston shook her head as she leaned back against the door. “It’s Marley.”

“Marley?” He tamped down the panic that threatened to overwhelm him. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t get a hold of her. I’ve been trying to call her and email and DM her for two days now.” She waved her phone wildly as she spoke. “I went by her mom’s place, and it’s locked up and dark. No car in the driveway. Boxes piled up on the porch. All the flowers and plants out front are dead. Something is wrong!”

“Marley’s mother has never been exactly reliable,” he reminded her. “Maybe she ran off to gamble after Marley left for her trip.”

“Okay, sure, but Marley is unreachable. That’s not like her! At all!” Aston insisted. “She calls or texts or emails me every day. She posts on Instagram or Facebook. At first, I was worried because she doesn’t know about Spider, but now, I’m worried that something happened to her over there.”

“Calm down,” Besian urged. “The baby,” he said, gesturing to her belly. “Take a seat. Please.”

Aston rolled her eyes and quickly crossed his office. After she plopped down, he took the seat next to her. “What does Ben say?”

“That I shouldn’t worry so much and that she’s probably somewhere without cell service or internet. Which, okay, maybe, but for two days?”

“Ben is probably right,” he tried to assuage her fears. “Sometimes cell service is spotty overseas.”

She rolled her eyes again. “I know that! I’ve traveled overseas every single year since I was, like, three!”

“Okay, okay,” Besian said, trying to calm her again. “Where is Marley now?”

Aston hesitated. “Albania.”

Taken aback, he asked, “What?”

“She. Is. In. Albania.” Aston spoke every word forcefully.

“But...why?”

“Are you serious?” She looked at him as if he might be the stupidest man who ever walked on the planet. “Why else would she go there?”

Besian wasn’t sure if he should find that encouraging or upsetting. Before he could fully process the idea of Marley exploring his homeland, Aston scrolled through her phone and flashed the screen at him. “This is where she was three days ago.”

His eyes widened as he saw the background of Marley’s snapshot. He snatched the phone from Aston. “What the hell is she doing in Bjeshkët e Nemuna?”

“Bjesh-what?”

“The Accursed Mountains,” he translated. “The Albanian Alps.”

“Hiking, obviously,” Aston replied saucily.

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