Club Prive: Taken Over, Volume 3 (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Ellie Danes

  "He's going to get himself killed," Christine said.

  Darren was in the middle of four lanes of New York traffic. He dodged and ran and even took a few hits from bumpers before the drivers could slam to a complete stop. Halfway across, Darren flipped onto the hood of a cab and cracked the windshield. He rolled off, clutching his arm, and continued his mad charge across the still rushing lanes of traffic.

  I caught Christine's arm in an iron grip and hauled her back onto the sidewalk. "He's got a death wish. Let him go."

  With frantic eyes, Christine watched her sister's murderer disappear, but she stopped struggling. When he was gone, she turned and fixed me with a painful look. "How do you know so much about Darren?"

  "I don't. I've never met him. And, Christine, you have to believe me, I don't work for Balducci anymore. I'm out."

  "I have to know why Darren killed Anya," Christine said. She rubbed her arm where I had grabbed it. "You were like him once. You don't want him to pay for my sister's death. So, tell me, Slade, why should I listen to anything you have to say?"

  My shoulders sagged. "I can't. You won't believe me anyway."

  Chapter Three

  Christine

  "I'm fine, Cara, you can stop staring at me," I said.

  Cara puckered her lips and shook her head. "I can't. You're the one who went looking for a murderer this morning!"

  I ripped open a new case of beer. "I was the one who introduced Darren to Anya. I thought he was a good kid. I need him to look me in the eyes and tell me how he could do that to my sister."

  Cara joined me behind the bar and helped load the imported bottles into the cooler. "And do you really think he's going to sit down and have a heart to heart with you? Why would you even want to be on the same street as him?"

  My friend shuddered, and I knew what she meant. How could I stand being near the man who had snuffed out my sister's life? I thought of the footage again with a haunting temptation. I felt like I owed it to my sister to witness her suffering. Then I noticed Cara's pale cheeks, and I felt a pang of remorse.

  "I'm so sorry you were the one to find her," I told Cara. "You didn't deserve that."

  "Christine, I just wish you could put all of this behind you," Cara said.

  "And I will. As soon as I hear from Darren why he killed her."

  Cara leaned a hip against the bar and stared at me with a skeptical expression. "And you don't have any plans to land him in jail?"

  "If he doesn't get himself killed first." I tore into another case of beer. "You should have seen him running through all that traffic. He didn't give a shit about the cars speeding toward him. Slade thinks he has a death wish."

  "So karma will get him," Cara said.

  I stopped with beer bottles in both hands. "What if he dies before I get to ask him? How am I supposed to get past that? Never knowing won't make anything feel like justice."

  Cara took the bottles from me. "But he knows who you are and now he knows you're trying to find him. He might already be gone."

  "Slade doesn't think so." I paused and leaned against the bar. "He seems to think he knows Darren. They both got picked up by Balducci when they had no other options."

  "So, maybe Slade is the one who can get close to Darren," Cara suggested.

  I shook my head. "How can I trust Slade after everything he hid from me? No. I have to do this on my own."

  Cara's worried eyes watched me as I left her and ducked out from behind the bar. I headed upstairs, barely seeing the framed photographs of the rich and famous on the stairwell walls. All I could think about was my plan. I had one good card to play and it was time to put it on the table.

  I went first to check on the private room that Balducci and his goons used for their illegal poker games. Everything was set to his specifications, down to the color of cocktail napkins that he preferred. My skin crawled at how deep Balducci had managed to worm his way into my club. Sure, it was Slade who let him in the door, but I was no better. And I was about to be a lot worse.

  Balducci was the only person I knew who was not only connected to Darren but could call on him to be at a certain place at a certain time. It would be a simple exchange: I would sign on as Balducci's new club manager if he handed Darren over to me.

  The thought of working for Balducci turned my stomach sour but I fought down the nausea. It was a small price to pay to bring justice to Anya's killer. Balducci, with his notorious strong-arm style, was also the only person I knew who could force Darren to tell me the truth, and I had to know why.

  I moved down the hallway and opened the door to the room where Anya died. I still felt like her presence was there, even if it was only a shadow. I had forced myself to stay away because it was so painful, but this time all I felt was a surge of anger.

  "Why did you have to be so reckless?" I asked the empty room. "I should have known Darren was a piece of shit the moment you hinted you could love him. You have— had—the worst taste in men. I should know. I do, too."

  I sunk to the floor as hot tears spilled down my cheeks. Anya was the only person in the world I would have ever told about Slade. He was interfering, domineering, and a flat-out liar. The only problem was every time I saw him, my entire insides jumped. I thought about him all the time, even as I sat in the semi-darkness grieving my dead sister.

  "He's a monster, guaranteed," I told my sister's ghost. "And you know how I know? Because I think I might love him. Just like you thought you were falling in love with Darren."

  "Christine? Oh, god, honey! I thought I might find you in here. Are you okay? I'll come back. It's nothing," Cara said in rapid fire.

  "What's nothing?" I swiped the tears from my face and stood up. "What's going on?"

  Cara bit her lip. "There's a problem downstairs at the door. Slade's got security blocking the way, but the men aren't going away."

  "What men?" I asked. "Who's trying to get into the club?"

  We raced down the stairs, but I couldn't get a clear view. The security team was lined up behind Slade like a solid brick wall and they didn't want to give way to let me through.

  Cara pulled me back. "You can see who it is on the security monitors."

  "No. This is my club. And I don't need Slade fighting my battles," I snapped. I elbowed my way through the thickly muscled security guards and broke through the other side.

  Straight into a man with a sickly expression. His pale eyes widened and a stomach-churning smile flitted across his bluish lips. I recognized him as the man Cara said had been stalking the club. He was most likely the only other person to see my sister before she was killed. He could have been in on it.

  I caught myself before we stood toe to toe. Then a strong arm yanked me back.

  Slade's furious eyes flashed down at me. "What are you doing here?"

  I couldn't tear my eyes off the pale man. Something was very wrong with him, a cold aura of confidence, a certainty that life was not a precious commodity but something to be traded. Or taken.

  "I've got this handled, Christine." Slade signaled to the bouncers to pull me back to the bar, but none of the burly men were dumb enough to touch me.

  "Not until I know what is going on in my club," I said.

  "Ah, there she is." Marlon Balducci appeared behind his line of cutthroat employees. "Christine, dear, how about you let us in? No reason we can't be friendly neighbors, right?"

  "Neighbors?" Slade asked. He didn't look at anyone but me.

  "You didn't hear?" I couldn't keep the sneer out of my voice. "Your friend here bought a property just down the block. He plans to make it the next big dance club, bar, and scene."

  "Of course, it will sound a lot more viable once I secure a good club manager," Balducci said. He winked at me.

  Slade stepped in front of me as if he could block that wink. "You'll never get the zoning."

  Balducci shook his head and chuckled. "Slade, my boy, there's a reason we parted ways. You just never realized the power of a greased palm. I've got friend
s on the city planning committee who would be more than happy to give me the permits by the end of the week."

  "You're bluffing, Balducci, and it's not going to work here." Slade crossed his arms and stood firm in the doorway.

  "And what if I came to talk to our pretty Christine?" Balducci asked.

  It was the wrong question. Slade's chest swelled as he stepped forward. "You're not welcome here, Balducci. Get it? Get out or I'll help you get out."

  I rested a hand on Slade's rock hard arm. "Calm down. There's no reason why we can't go on with business as usual."

  "Business?" Slade swung around to face me. "This isn't business. It's a sad old man's attempt at intimidation. He knows he can't get a foothold here anymore, so he's looking to take us apart. It's all a bluff. Don't fall for it, Christine."

  I yanked my hand back from his arm as if he burned me. "I'm not falling for anything, Slade. And I'm not the one who invited our friend here in the first place. All I'm saying is now is not the time to do this. And it especially is not the place. How about we all go upstairs and have a drink?"

  Balducci grinned. "That's my girl."

  Slade looked as if he might kill the old mobster there and then. I stepped forward again and said, "Or maybe we just all agree to do this some other time? The club doesn't open for another two hours."

  "No," Slade said. "I don't care what time it is or who's watching. He is no longer welcome here."

  At that moment, I caught a glimpse of Cara over Slade's shoulder. She was trying to signal me without being seen by Balducci's men. My heart clutched at her frightened expression. Balducci insisted on Cara as his private bartender and I knew for a fact he wanted revenge on her. Bending him over and spanking out a confession, no matter if it was dismissed from court, meant that Cara was a target. Everyone was. If I fought Slade on this now, then Balducci and his men would feel free to terrorize my friend and our staff.

  I stepped in front of Balducci. "Sorry, neighbor. How about we plan to get together another time?"

  His eyes narrowed. "Is this really what you want?"

  I moved to stand next to Slade. "I'm still the club manager here, his club manager."

  Balducci smirked. "And you trust him? Poor girl, I thought you were smarter than that."

  I knew the old mobster was just trying to get under my skin but his words twisted in my gut. Balducci was as bad as they come, but he had never overtly lied to me. He was much too much of a businessman to shy away from the truth. Plus, I needed him to get to my sister's killer.

  "Don't worry," I told Balducci, "I'm a fast learner.”

  He considered me with a long enough stare that Slade's fingers curled into fists. Then Balducci broke out in a hearty laugh. "So you are, Christine, my dear. So you are. Let's just consider this a friendly drop-by. Now that we're in the same neighborhood, we'll be seeing a lot more of each other. A lot."

  Slade swung just as Balducci licked his lips. A broad-shouldered man in a dark suit stepped forward and blocked Slade. The two grappled as Balducci laughed. Chaos erupted as the two lines of men clashed, and I barely squeezed out before the first drop of blood was spilled.

  Cara grabbed my hand and pulled me behind the bar. "Want me to call the police?" she asked.

  I shook my head and pulled her hand away from the shotgun we kept hidden under the bar. "No. Let the silly boys fight it out."

  "Christine, you can't do this," Cara said. "You can't trust Balducci to help you."

  "But I can trust Slade?" I asked.

  Cara watched as Slade knocked the bigger man out the door. "He's trying to protect you."

  I shook my head even as my heart leapt at every swing Slade took. "I don't want protection. I just want answers."

  Chapter Four

  Slade

  I knew the second Christine stood next to me that she was up to something. I just couldn't figure out why she was all of sudden on my side. Balducci gave her another sickening smile and went on his way, but I knew it wasn't over. Worst of all, I knew Christine wouldn't stop.

  Keeping an eye on her should have been easy. We had a DJ scheduled for that night who drew a huge audience, and Christine only had a few hours to get the club ready for the crowds. She moved like lightning between the bar, the floor, the backstage, and her office. My office, but I had long ago given up my claim. My investment might have kept the club open, but it was Christine's energy that brought it to life.

  I was exhausted just watching her.

  "Sorry, boss, gotta get through here," one of the bar-backs said.

  I shifted out of his way and searched for a new vantage point. The young man gave me a second glance, and I knew what he was thinking. Why was the club owner just standing around staring at people?

  He followed my gaze and smiled. Christine had that effect on people.

  I wished that explained why Balducci liked her so much, but just the thought tied my stomach in knots. My old boss always had an agenda. Christine was not only beautiful, she was successful, and her business savvy was the only thing that outdid her undeniable attractiveness. Balducci wanted her, maybe more than he wanted to destroy me.

  I was still weighing that when the club doors open. It should have been a great night. There was a record number of people waiting in line and Balducci's men were nowhere in sight. The DJ was scheduled to start in an hour, but he was already creating a buzz on the floor. I just couldn't relax. And I couldn't see Christine.

  I slipped behind the bar to pour myself a stiff drink, only to catch a glimpse of her across the dance floor. She had her arm through the scruffy, young DJ's and was proudly introducing him to our more notable guests. The way she smiled and squeezed him closer turned my insides to stone.

  "You know you don't have to be jealous, right?"

  I blinked hard and turned to Cara. The waitress/bartender was close to Christine and normally very quiet. "Who says I'm jealous?" I asked.

  Cara pried the vodka bottle out of my fisted fingers. "Everything about you says 'jealous.'"

  "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

  Cara poured a generous amount of the vodka over ice and handed me the glass. "She chose you just this afternoon. Doesn't that make you feel better?"

  I winced, remembering the awful scene with Balducci. I'd started a fight within inches of Christine. Maybe I just wasn't cut out for protection. The skills my old boss had made me cultivate were much more aggressive. "Christine doesn't trust me."

  "And you don't trust her." Cara glanced over the bar to where Christine and the DJ greeted another group of fans.

  "They look pretty friendly, don't you think?" I asked.

  "Christine is a good friend. That's why she set me up with him." Cara crossed her arms and grinned up at me.

  "You're dating the DJ?"

  "Yeah. So, the question is, what are you doing?" Cara asked with one raised eyebrow.

  I knocked back half my drink. "Going crazy," I muttered.

  "How about you go talk to her instead," Cara said.

  "What is it with bartenders and good advice?" I finished my drink and tossed the glass to Cara.

  She caught it then shoved me out from behind the bar and got back to work. When I turned around, Christine was only a few feet and a half dozen customers away. I pushed my way through the crowd and had to smile when the DJ's face paled. He extricated himself from Christine and slipped off to see Cara at the bar.

  "I wanted to thank you," I said, blocking Christine from escaping.

  She frowned, then purposefully misunderstood me. "Not a bad crowd tonight. You're welcome."

  I stepped in front of her again. "I meant for backing me up with Balducci."

  A wildly popular song came on and the crowd shifted us toward the dance floor. Christine was pressed up against me, and I automatically put my arms around her to shield her from the press of the partiers. The pleasure of touching her ran through my body like electricity, and I could tell from her suppressed shiver that she felt the same. There was a
new, warmer light in her eyes when she looked up at me.

  "I just wish we were on the same page," Christine said.

  I lowered my head to hear her over the pulsing music. "How do we do that? What do you want, Christine? I just want to help you."

  The angry fire leapt back into her expression and she tried to shove me back. "I want to know why Darren killed my sister."

  My body felt like lead. All I wanted to do was protect Christine, and what she asked was the opposite of that. "What if there's no good answer?"

  "Any answer is better than not knowing," she snapped.

  She wouldn't believe me. How could Christine understand that what Darren did was probably a mercy? Unless she had firsthand experience with that kind of brutal leverage, Christine would never understand what killed her sister. I could tell her two thousand times over and she would never believe me. I had to figure out a way to make her understand before she went after the truth herself.

  I held on to her, my arms tightening as the crowd around us surged. "Okay. We'll figure it out. Together. How about I get us a bottle of wine and we meet in my, I mean, your office?"

  Christine was suspicious. "You really want to help me now or are you just trying to distract me?"

  I nuzzled her neck, breathing in her scent before I said, "Maybe you could use a distraction. Help clear your head."

  She laughed and though the sound was lost in the heavy bass of the club music, I felt it lift some of the weight off me. "Nice try, Slade. I'll meet you in the office to talk about what happened with Balducci. That's it."

  That was enough for me. I kissed her cheek and headed to the back stairwell. There a huge bouncer nodded and let me go downstairs to the wine cellar. It felt like we finally had a break, just long enough to breathe easy and maybe enjoy one night together. The thought lit my blood on fire. It didn't matter what mess was going on, I still wanted Christine. Every inch of her.