Inside, we pass men sitting on a bench, with women dancing atop them, giving the show they’re paying for. The suit passes through another doorway that leads to a set of stairs. I keep McKenna behind me, and soon, we’re stepping into the top floor of the club. From the crimson leather couches, to the crystal chandeliers, to the bar with premium alcohol, this space screams wealth.
I glance around at the men sipping their scotches and smoking their cigars, with women fit to be Victoria’s Secret models dancing around them, and I know what kind of establishment this is. This space is meant for the elite, and is designed for men who are willing to pay for sex. I squeeze McKenna’s hand, and she gives me a quick smile; obviously, she’s thinking along the same lines.
When we reach the back of the room, there’s another doorway, and when we enter the space, I’m immediately aware that Alex and Ryder haven’t led us wrong. Against the far wall there’s a large bar with two bartenders wearing white shirts, black ties, and vests, and in front of the bar is a large card table. We pass that, heading to where there’s a seating area, and a lone man is sitting in a leather chair, a scotch in his hand. One man flanks him, obviously his guard. I study their faces, but they aren’t the men we saw taking Evan in the video.
I keep my attention on the man coolly regarding me. Early fifties, a slight beer belly, salt and pepper hair; he’s got a presence that I’ve seen in both Micah and Darius. This guy doesn’t watch, he assesses his target. And there in his black eyes is a warning for me to tread lightly with McKenna so vulnerable standing next to me.
“Gabe O’Keefe,” he says, not bothering to stand.
“I’m afraid that I’m at a disadvantage and don’t know your name,” I say to him.
“Marcus Draken.” He keeps one arm on the armrest, the other resting on his thigh with his scotch glass in hand. “So now that we’ve gotten introductions over with, you can tell me why you’re in my club showing a photo to my employees.”
There’s a tug in my subconscious. Something about how he’s watching me raises my alarms. He doesn’t seem surprised I am here, and considering who I am, and what type of establishment this is, that’s odd. I take the cellphone from McKenna’s hand, click the screen on, and offer it to Marcus. “We’re looking for Evan Archer. From what we’ve learned the last place he was seen was here.”
“Is that so?” Marcus barely looks at the screen. “Ah, yes, I think he’s been here before.” He hands the phone to the suit next to him. “Isn’t that right, Tommy?”
Tommy doesn’t even look at the screen, handing it back to me. “Yeah, he looks familiar, boss.”
Marcus gives a cool smile. “Though as you can see”—he waves around the room—“he’s not here now.”
McKenna stiffens, going rigid. “Can we cut the bullshit? It’s obvious you know my brother. So, what did he do to you? How much does he owe? What do I have to pay to get him back?”
Marcus takes a long sip of his drink, those dark eyes regarding me before he sends his focus back to McKenna. “I’m afraid, I don’t—”
“Bullshit,” McKenna shouts, hands fisting at her sides.
Marcus has the gall to look insulted. “My dear, such hostility.”
I place my hand on the small of her back, feel her trembling beneath my touch. “McKenna,” I say softly.
She snaps her head to me and scowls. “What? He knows were Evan is, Gabe. You can see it all over his fucking smug face.” She turns her glare back to Marcus. “Where have you taken Evan?”
“Taken him?” Marcus blinks.
His surprise is an act that even I can see, and I sense McKenna stiffen further. Before she gets us both in trouble, I interject, “We don’t want to involve the police, so I suggest you answer her.”
Marcus’s amused eyes flick to mine, and they slowly begin to narrow. “Involving the police would be a very bad idea. Wouldn’t it, Tommy?”
“Yes, I would not suggest you go down that road,” Tommy says with a dangerous smirk.
I draw in a deep breath, regarding the men around me. From the way Tommy is standing with one hand on his hip, I get the distinct feeling he’s carrying a gun. There’s an edge of danger in his expression that concerns me. I don’t want McKenna anywhere near these people. I grab a card out of my wallet and hand it to Marcus. “If you happen to see Evan, it’s imperative we speak with him.”
“Of course,” Marcus says, tossing my card on the table in front of him.
I don’t doubt in a second that card will be in the trash. But I won’t have McKenna getting more involved in this than she already is. The last thing I need, on top of everything, is fearing for her life, and these are men I need to know more about before I take a step farther. There’s a stink of violence and crime in this room. I squeeze McKenna’s hand, and turn, intent on getting her out of here.
“What are you doing?” she asks softly, keeping the conversation private, as we take a step forward.
“He’s not going to tell us anything,” I tell her just as softly. “We cannot force him, not without something to bargain with. Besides, it’s not safe for you here,” I remind her.
Her mouth presses into a firm line with obvious frustration.
Just as we reach the first table, Marcus calls out, “I do hope your brother makes it home safely, Ms. Archer.”
The next seconds are a blur, as McKenna drops my hand, spins, and runs toward the man. I’m hot on her heels,
reaching out to grab her, but so is Tommy, and he’s running straight for her. Hot fury storms across me as I watch Tommy’s elbow connect with her face, taking her down to the ground.