INVESTIGATION
756 Words
I pull the heavy oak door shut and release the cold brass knob, letting the metal latch click securely into the frame so she knows I am definitely gone.
I do not walk away down the corridor immediately because I need to make sure she actually takes my advice instead of trying to slip out the back exit into the freezing storm.
I stand in the dim light of the hallway and lean my broad shoulder against the drywall, crossing my arms over my chest while I listen intently to the heavy silence of the building.
A few seconds pass before I hear the soft, hesitant sound of her bare feet moving across the expensive rug inside my office.
Then, the faint creak of the floorboards tells me she is heading toward the private back staircase that leads directly up to the residential floor where I keep the safe rooms.
I track the quiet sound of her footsteps moving up the wooden stairs, waiting patiently in the dark until I hear the distinct metallic click of a heavy deadbolt sliding into place on the third floor.
She locked herself in the guest room just like I told her to do, and a strange, unfamiliar wave of relief settles right in the center of my chest.
I push off the wall and turn around, walking down the opposite end of the hallway so I can deal with the chaotic mess waiting for me in the main room.
The heavy metal music is silent when I step out of the corridor and back into the gritty atmosphere of the bar.
The flashing neon lights are switched off, replaced by the harsh overhead work bulbs that cast long shadows across the sticky wooden floors and the scattered bar stools.
My heavy boots crunch over the splintered remains of the wooden table I shattered earlier tonight, and I kick a broken chair leg out of my path as I survey the damage to the room.
The large crowd is mostly gone, leaving only a few of my regular customers whispering quietly in the corner booths while the waitresses wipe down the counters with damp rags.
The nomad crew is nowhere to be seen, and the flashing blue lights of the police cruisers are no longer reflecting through the wet glass of the front windows.
Luca stands near the center of the room talking to Dante, holding a blood-stained bar towel in his left hand while he types a message into his phone with his right.
"Are the cops gone?" I ask, walking over to join them near the pool tables.
Dante nods and tosses a broken piece of wood into a nearby trash can before turning to face me.
"The uniforms cleared out about ten minutes ago because we showed them the security footage of that nomad putting his hands on the girl first," Dante explains, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist. "They took a statement from the bartender and called it a justified eviction, so we are not going to get a citation for the brawl or a fine from the city."
"And the rest of the nomad crew?" I ask, looking toward the heavy front doors to make sure the steel deadbolts are fully engaged.
"They dragged their boy out to the gravel parking lot and rode off heading north toward the highway," Luca answers, sliding his phone into his back pocket. "They were pissed about the disrespect, but they know they cannot win a gunfight against us in our own territory, especially with the cops circling the block."
"Keep extra men on the doors for the rest of the week just in case they decide to turn around and try something stupid," I order them, knowing how easily a bruised ego can turn into a bloody retaliation when bikers mix cheap alcohol with pride.
"Already done, boss," Dante says, grabbing a wide push broom from behind the bar to sweep up the broken glass near the stage.
I watch Dante sweep for a moment before I turn my attention back to my Vice President, lowering my voice so the remaining customers cannot hear our private conversation.
"I need you to go into the back room and pull the high-definition security footage from the dance floor," I tell Luca, pointing a finger toward the server room down the hall.
"You want me to save a copy of the fight for our legal records?" Luca asks, raising a dark eyebrow at my request.
- Writer
