35. Zane

Chapter thirty-five

Zane

T he heavy wooden door of the bar swings open with a familiar creak as I step into the club on Witcham Road like I own the joint. I don't, but my arrival has the same effect. I wasted a few hours sitting outside Desmond's house and club, watching for any sign of him, while waiting for the companions from last night to get the memo about the meeting.

The guys I'm meeting are huddled together in a corner booth, their faces a mix of fear and guilt. I don't know any of them well enough to share a strong loyalty with them.

"Tell me what happened," I demand, dispensing with any formal greeting. They know who I am, and I don't need to know who they are.

"Everything went according to plan," Dave starts, his voice a bit too eager as he slides over to make room for me. "Ronan left with the rest of us after a couple of drinks, just like we planned. We mixed the rounds up so we had one beer and one soft drink each. He told us how you couldn't believe your luck to leave at the same time as the girl who caught your eye and the two of you hooked up. He even said he was looking around to make sure everything was clear when you got in the car."

"Right," I say, eyeing each of them in turn. Their eyes dart away, unable to hold my gaze. "So why do I feel like you're not telling me everything?"

Tommy, the youngest and most fidgety of the bunch, chews on his lip. "It's just... after Ronan split, we didn't exactly follow him home, did we?" His words come out in a rush, as though confessing would lessen the weight of their oversight.

"Were you told to?"

"No, only to have the drinks. But honestly, none of us are sure why."

"It's complicated." I'm not going to be unprofessional and agree with them. Edward has to remain infallible in their eyes.

"Len, if Desmond tailed Ronan, he'll know where his place is. Take two guys and check it out."

"Sure, boss." Lenny always avoids calling me dad at work, even though everyone knows.

"The rest of you come with me."

Nods of approval accompany the movement of men as we split into two teams. Lenny clasps his handgun tight against his chest, the matte black barrel gleaming dully in the weak club lighting. With a jerk of his head, he motions to his team, and they fall into formation behind him, slipping out of the club.

The rest of us head outside to where Marcus is waiting against the wall with a cigarette in his mouth.

"Jasmine?" I question, her name feeling too much like a confession.

"Thrilled," he replies, his voice carrying an undercurrent of surprise. "She's taken a shine to Alex and says she'd love to have him more. She'll learn."

I know he's teasing; Alex is a little angel.

"Good." A knot of tension eases within me. Jasmine's willingness to look after Alex means we can focus on finding Ronan without distractions.

Marcus drives as we head to Desmond's club. After my visit earlier in the day, I want to avoid bringing my car back to the same area. People are more likely to recognise patterns when they repeat themselves. As I find myself looking at the alley where all this began, I can't help but wonder if I could have done anything differently. Could I have allowed Andrew to live, demanding that Jasmine be mine? Would he have listened, and if he didn't, would he be more of a threat than Desmond?

I really didn't think the worm had the balls or motivation to come after me like this. Whatever Andrew was slipping him on the side must have been really worth it.

I give the men a nod and send them into the overshadowed alley. Just as I did last time, I send lesser men into the risky situation. They know that is why they are here; they also know that this position protects them. No one will risk their position with the mafia for a nobody. Marcus and I are quite the opposite. Someone could make a name for themselves if they tackled us. Obviously, it would be a name printed on a gravestone, but they would be remembered nonetheless. I'd rather not risk myself or my son to give them that honour.

"Here," Dave calls. My eyes follow his extended arm, and the trio lifts a figure from the floor.

"Ronan!" I gasp with more relief than I would usually reveal, but my guilt is genuine; this man is hurt because of me. He hangs limply in their arms, an eerie repeat of Andrew's movements, although there is no ride in the boot ahead this time.

"He's alive," Dave confirms.

"Let's get him out of here." Marcus is already positioning himself beside the car door, holding it wide for the unconscious man to be manhandled inside.

"Michael's clinic isn't far," I order, as Marcus and I climb into the car, turning to the other men. "Meet us there."

Marcus nods, his jaw set in grim determination. "We'll need to keep it quiet. The last thing we need is unwanted attention."

"Agreed." I glance at Ronan lying in the back, his face bruised and bloodied, motionless save for the rocking of the car's movements.

"Almost there," Marcus encourages as if sensing the wane of my strength.

The drive to Michael's clinic is tense, filled with the weight of unanswered questions. My mind is racing with what to do next. Finding Ronan alive is a godsend, and when he can tell me who did this, it will also be a death sentence.

As we arrive at the clinic, Marcus parks the car in a secluded spot, away from prying eyes. We carry Ronan inside, and Michael, a trusted ally and skilled doctor, meets us at the back entrance.

"What happened?" Michael asks, concern etched on his face as he examines Ronan's unconscious form.

"We believe someone was trying to get information about the family from him," I explain, my voice filled with a mixture of anger and determination. "We need him awake as soon as possible."

Michael nods, understanding the urgency of the situation. "I'll do what I can to stabilise him and get any information he may have. But I can't promise anything."

I trust Michael's abilities. He has helped me and this organisation numerous times, and his loyalty is unquestionable. As he takes Ronan into the treatment room, I turn to the remaining men.

"We need to find Desmond and follow him," I say, my voice firm. "We assume he knows everything, so we need to make up time on this. Find him, and get a protection detail over to my house."

The men nod, their expressions reflecting a mix of determination and concern. They know the stakes are high, and failure is not an option.