5. Zane

Chapter five

Zane

I t's time to leave the club and head back to my car. Glancing at my watch shows we've completed our job in record time despite stopping for a quick drink. Leaving with the full payment is a bonus. I could stop at Marcus' house and update him now, reaching for my phone, but a girl runs past before my phone is out of my pocket.

It's the kitten who dances like the world is falling from under her feet, runs with the same grace or as if wolves are chasing her. My curiosity pulls me to the end of the alley, but no one is obviously chasing her. No wolves. No one.

"Hello?" I'm not the kind of idiot who walks into a dark alley after bullying the owner into handing over his money, but the sight of movement on the floor interests me. "William, check it out."

I'm risking my bodyguard's life over my own to investigate. William and Ronan are my first choice when I need extra muscles on the job, even if it isn't their full-time role in the business. William is moonlighting from his role at the cutting plant, while Ronan is working his way up from a bouncer at Knox's lavish clubs.

William walks slowly into the dark passage, drawing his gun and torch protectively.

As William gets closer, his torch light hits a prone figure covered in blood, making it clear that the person on the ground has been stabbed.

Even that doesn't get me heading into the alley, I've been in too many ambushes before to take the chance. Admittedly, I was usually the one setting them up, but I'm not the kind of guy to fall for my own trap. Instead, I wait for William to bring the injured man to me.

"What happened?" I demand from the scum bag I recognise as Andrew Green, my voice filled with disdain.

"That bitch cut me," Andrew splutters through his injuries. "Jasmine. She's a dancer inside."

"Why did she do that?" I give Ronan a nod, and my other man silently slips off to bring the car around. I already know enough from Desmond's information to guess his answer.

He struggles to speak through his cut-open throat, knowing it will leave a permanent reminder of this encounter. A scar that will make women wary of falling for his sleazy film offers again.

"You gotta kill her for me. Ain't that what we pay you for? Protection against this sort of thing." Andrew's words are filled with venom, but I can see the fear in his eyes. Men like him always talk big, yet they never have the stomach to do what needs to be done.

"It sure is," I respond coolly, not letting in on the satisfaction I feel knowing he's wrong. Desmond pays us to let him continue his business in our city. It is protection because we police our streets, and he's contributing to the cost of that. It isn't actually useful protection against being beaten up or robbed and it certainly doesn't cover random blokes chatting up girls in alleyways. I turn to my car as it slows against the curb, eager to put this situation behind me. "You ride in the boot. I won't have any blood staining my seats." I climb into the back of the car while William throws the protesting man in the boot.

As we drive away, ignoring Andrew's pleading cries, I glance at the slip of paper in my pocket with Jasmine Morgan's address. Curiosity has gotten the best of me, and I can't resist the chance to check out our target's home.

Ronan takes a detour without me needing to ask, parking the car on a quiet gravel stretch under the bridge that leads into the docks. The mist rolls in off the river, shrouding us in its ethereal cloak as we wait for an old friend to join us.

"Mr Whitehall," Sergey appears out of nowhere like a ghost, his voice echoing through the foggy air. He greets me with a nod and a tight smile.

"I've got a body for you," I say simply, shaking hands with him briefly before directing William and Ronan to retrieve our cargo from the car's boot.

"Fresh bodies are always worth more on the black market," Sergey remarks casually, reminding me of what will become of Mr Green once they're in his possession.

The sound of Andrew Green's moans fills the air, his body writhing in pain as he hangs in my men's arms as they pull him from the boot of my car. Sergey's face lit up with delight at the sight, his eyes shining with sadistic pleasure.

"You have made me a very happy man, Mr Whitehall," he exclaimed, turning to me with a wide grin. "I assume this gentleman is just going to disappear without a trace. Do you have any questions you need him to answer?"

"No. He's all yours," I reply nonchalantly, shrugging off the weight of responsibility. "Have all the fun in the world with him."

"Then I am a rich and happy man," Sergey declares triumphantly, shaking my hand before beckoning my bodyguards over to his van. With a swift movement, they load Mr Green into Sergey's vehicle, which drives off, leaving no trace behind. He is now Sergey's problem, no longer mine. Sergey and I have known each other since the early days, and his trust is without question. He will hide the body inside many grateful patients across the country. It is now time for me to focus on Miss Jasmine and the unfolding drama she has caused.