Chapter 19

Tori

Something was wrong. I had no idea what I'd just seen. Still, a chill clung to my body long after watching Bennett escorted outside by two of Richie's biggest knuckleheads. Frog walked was more like it. Bennett could handle himself. I knew that. But still…I'd worked the bar at Parkston's long enough to know that Richie had a huge entourage, mostly of the thick-necked, brass-knuckled variety. They looked like the kind of guys who would do anything for some quick cash. Richie had the money and power to snap his fingers, and they'd ask how high to jump. I bet they wouldn't hold back if Richie asked them to rough someone up.

Someone like my Bennett.

My stomach rolled as my eyes followed the men"s path moments before. The idea of Bennett getting hurt…

No. I couldn't go there. Not in the middle of the club. This wasn't the time—or the place—to go to pieces.

I squeezed my eyes shut and took a long breath to quell the nausea.

A touch at my elbow sent me jumping out of my skin. I whipped around lightning fast and found myself face-to-face with Barbie. Her dark eyes widened at my reaction, and I realized I had thrown my hands up as though ready to strike out at her. I instantly dropped them, clasping my fingers together behind my back.

"I didn't mean to startle you, Avery," Barbie said. "There's a gentleman at the bar asking for you. He's one of your regulars."

I followed her eyes to a tall, lanky man at the bar. His sandy blonde hair flopped over his forehead, and as he glanced up at me, he gave his head a slight shake to toss it out of his blue eyes. His name was Liam, some wealthy businessman from the UK who rolled into Hollywood once a month when working on some movie deal. He was a sharp dresser with a silver tongue and an accent that made most ladies drop their panties from the first "Hello." He was also a hell of a tipper, so I indulged his flirtations.

He smiled at me from across the bar, and I gave him a slight flutter of my fingertips. "I'll be right there," I said out of the corner of my mouth to Barbie.

Barbie nodded. "I'll let him know. Sorry, again, for scaring you."

"No worries. I was just lost in thought."

Barbie sauntered off, and I tracked back to looking at the front doors of the club. Surely, if Richie dragged Bennett off for some kind of interrogation, he would have taken him out the back. Wasn't that how these things usually worked? It had to be a mistake. I was jumping to conclusions. I had no proof that anything had gone south with Bennett and his deal with Richie.

In fact, I hadn't even seen Richie. Where was that short little bastard?

I cast another glance around the club and came up empty. Most of the night's guests had wandered off to the private rooms or suites, leaving the main room scarce. If Richie was still here, he'd be in the red room. His room.

Liam was still looking my way from the bar, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Damn it.

"Snap out of it, Tori," I growled under my breath as I returned to the bar. I mustered up a fake smile, thrust my shoulders back to make my tits pop out of my low-cut blouse, and leaned in to greet Liam.

"Good evening, handsome. Business or pleasure?"

Liam offered a wide smile. "With you, Avery? It's always a pleasure."

I threw him a wicked smile, playing my part to perfection, and reached under the bar for a bottle of his favorite liquor. "In that case, I think I'll join you on this round."

Liam's eyes danced with excitement. He thought he was finally going to get in my pants.

Poor, naive bastard.

I retrieved the bottle of bourbon, the same expensive shit Richie liked to drink and made a show of pouring one shot.

"Damn," I cursed. "Looks like I'll need to run to the storage room for another bottle. You'll wait for me, won't you?" I purred, batting my eyelashes at Liam.

He leaned in, his ice-blue eyes flashing. "I could accompany you," he growled.

"Such a naughty, naughty boy," I said, trying to mimic his thick accent.

Liam laughed, and his smile grew deeper. Darker. "Is that a yes?"

"Not this time, handsome. I'll be right back. You start without me," I said, pushing the shot across the bar.

He took it but shook his head. "I'll wait for your return."

I winked at him and then sauntered away, knowing his eyes were glued to my ass as I went. I didn't care. I just needed an excuse to leave the bar and go check on Richie's room. With the empty bourbon bottle in one hand, I passed by Barbie, letting her know I was running to the private rooms. She murmured her reply as I swept from the bar area.

Once out of sight of the clients, I picked up the pace, going as fast as my too-high stilettos allowed until I reached the door of Richie's private room. I pressed an ear to the thick door and didn't hear a sound. No music or voices. Silence.

Eerie silence.

My pulse pounded so hard I could feel it at my temples. I wet my lips with the tip of my tongue and then pulled open the door. The red filters were still turned on, casting red-tinted light over the room. The empty room. Not only was Richie MIA, but the rest of his crew were gone, too.

I let the door swing closed behind me and wandered farther into the room. Where was everyone? I couldn't remember Richie ever having an empty space since he'd started coming around the club. Even if he wasn't here, his people used the room in his place.

Bottles and empty glasses littered the table in between the two low-profile couches. A few glasses also sat on the other tables sprinkled throughout the room. Most of the abandoned glasses were still half-filled—as though everyone had left simultaneously.

I set the empty bourbon bottle on the table and started stacking the glasses. Part of me was on auto-pilot and part was trying to stall while figuring out what to do. I couldn't leave Liam hanging at the bar too long. It would look suspicious. But something nagged at me. Something in the back of my mind told me the answers were there in front of me, and I needed to look harder.

Thoughts pinged through my mind in rapid-fire, each idea considered and discarded as I continued cleaning. An unused cocktail napkin was on the table, and as I reached to snatch it up, I realized there was writing on the back. In ballpoint pen, someone had written down: 3.6.

"Three point six?" I said to myself, glancing back at the number again.

Before I could figure it out, a gush of air sounded behind me, and every cell in my body stopped working all at once, freezing me in place.

"What are you doing in here?" a harsh voice barked.

I cringed.

I forced my shoulders to retreat from where they'd bunched up around my neck and slapped a serene smile on my face before swirling around in a fluid movement to face the owner of the clipped tone.

"Evening, Mr. Dalton. I came to see if anyone needed a refill," I replied, glancing down at the bottle on the table, praying he wouldn't see that it was an empty prop in the fuzzy lighting. "When I realized you'd retired for the evening, I thought I would get a jump on tidying up a little bit. Are you expecting more guests this evening, or should I shut the room down for the night?"

Richie scowled at me; his expression scrunched like he'd caught a whiff of garbage. Or his own cologne.

"What's that in your hand?" Richie asked, pointing at the napkin pinched between my fingers.

My heart rocketed into my throat, but I swallowed it back down and tried on another smile. "Just a napkin," I replied, my voice wavering slightly. "Like I said, I was tidying up the?—"

"I know what you said," Richie interjected, his jaw tensed as he bit out the words.

I ducked my chin. "Of course."

I kept my eyes trained on the floor in front of my pointed heels. I didn't dare raise them back to Richie's for fear I would give myself away. Truthfully, I hadn't found anything incriminating. The napkin was hardly helpful. But still…I clung to it as the only shred of hope of finding Bennett. That persistent voice in the back of my head told me it had something to do with him and his sudden exit from the club.

"Get some hookers in here," Richie snapped. "And pour me some more bourbon."

With shaky fingers, I reached for the empty bottle. "Of course. I'll go get some new glasses."

Richie didn't argue and turned away as I hurried to finish loading my arms with all the dirty glasses I'd collected. With everything swept into my arms, I bolted for the door, holding my breath as I slithered past Richie. As I retreated back to the bar, I felt his eyes trained on my rear.

"There she is!" Liam boomed, his warm tone helping to take the edge off my nerves as I entered the bar area again.

"My apologies, handsome. I got off course with one of the private rooms," I said, flashing a smile over my shoulder as I deposited the dirty glasses and empty bourbon bottle into the sink behind the bar.

I'd managed to escape with the napkin, and after making sure my back was turned, I folded it as small as I could and wedged it under the wire of my push-up bra. "Barbie, would you please take some bourbon to the red room? And find some…entertainment."

"Sure thing," Barbie said, pushing off the opposite counter and hustling away.

I ducked under the counter and scratched around until I found a fresh bottle of bourbon. "Looks like I had one here the whole time," I said, popping up to present the bottle to Liam. "Ready for another?"

He lounged against the counter and dropped a pointed look to his still full shot glass. "Like I said, love, I was waiting for you."

"Right." I smiled but felt the edges trembling as my thoughts drifted back to Bennett. I wanted to get out of the club. Call him or run down the street to see if anyone had seen where he'd gone. Surely, three larger-than-life men in dark suits would have been hard to miss. Someone would have seen something, right?

Liam wasn't losing interest fast enough, and I didn't have the energy to keep dodging him.

I poured myself a shot of bourbon and clinked my tumbler with Liam's. "Thanks for waiting, handsome."

"For you, Avery, I'd wait a lifetime," he crooned.

Damn, this tip better be worth it.

Liam rambled on about his business dealings while I mimicked interest with an occasional nod. The napkin tucked in my bra was a constant reminder. What could three point six mean? What did it have to do with anything? It looked like Bennett's handwriting, but I couldn't be sure. Was it money? Three-point six million? Bennett didn't have that kind of money. Or did he? Was he paying Richie for information? Or the other way around? Was there something else going on entirely?

"Where'd I lose ya, gorgeous?"

I blinked away my collection of thoughts and sighed at Liam's polite question. He was still smiling at me, not irritated that I'd zoned out, which only made me feel worse. He was a good client. And while he was flirtatious, he was never pushy. On the contrary, I was usually flattered to play his game.

"I'm sorry, handsome. I'm just not myself tonight."

"Anything I can do to help? I promise I could take your mind off your troubles if you'd let me."

I smiled and opened my mouth to reply when Barbie reappeared out of the corner of my eye. "Excuse me," she said, coming over to my side. "But Mr. Dalton is requesting you."

My heart rate jacked up again, and my smile melted into a tight-lipped grimace. "Of course." I brushed my hand over Liam's. "Forgive me. Next time?"

"Of course."

Barbie slid into my place, getting Liam another round, and as I passed out of earshot, the two of them were carrying on fine without me. I tugged at the edge of my tight shirt, trying to cover the sliver of skin showing before marching back to the red room.

Richie had been joined by three other men, all in dark suits. I couldn't tell if they were his usual goons, friends, or business partners. All I knew was that none of them were the men I'd seen with Bennett. My heart sank as I scanned their faces. Richie was lounging on one of the couches as a blonde straddled him. She went on, oblivious to my presence, and tossed her long hair back as she arched and shoved her bared tits in his face.

When I entered, Richie shoved the woman off, unceremoniously dumping her onto the couch beside him and shot to his feet. The woman bristled but quickly went to work on the beefed-up man who had been sitting beside Richie—who was all too happy to get his leftovers.

Gross.

"How can I assist you, Mr. Dalton?" I asked, resisting the urge to wrap my arms around myself.

Richie's eyes narrowed at me as he crossed the room, only stopping when he was close enough for his cologne to invade my nostrils.

"I need to speak to Reed," he said. "The other girl told me you'd be able to contact him. But, you know, Red, I don't care for these fuckin' hoops I gotta jump through. So, before my patience thins any further, I'd suggest you get his ass down here."

"I'll let Mr. Parkston know you'd like to speak with him," I replied. Was he going to complain about me snooping through his private room? Sure, I was only cleaning, but if a man like Richie wanted to cause a stink, I had no doubt he'd find a way to get me fired. He'd never warmed to me. But I suspected that was mainly because I didn't throw myself at him like nearly every other woman on staff. No amount of money was worth riding that fat, greased-up pig.

I turned to leave, but Richie whipped his arm out and snagged my wrist. "Listen, Red, when I finish my business with Reed, maybe you could come back, and we can take care of a little business." Nausea swept through me at his suggestion. I tugged my arm, but Richie held fast. He offered a sharp-toothed grin. "That Eric was quite taken with you. I wanna see what all the fuss is about. Besides, wouldn't want you to get lonely now that he's gone."

"Gone?" the word slipped from my lips before I could stop myself. I didn't want to play into his game and from the sick gleam in his eyes, that was precisely what I'd done.

Richie released my wrist and gave me a twisted smile. He'd hit his mark, and he knew it. "That's right, Red. You won't be seeing him around here anymore. He's gone on a bit of a vacation."

The tone of his voice implied it was a permanent vacation.