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It was a safe district with a cluster of idyllic towns, including Everton City. There were jobs and opportunities for everybody until one favor led to another, and one man was in another’s pocket. Reputations had to be protected for political clout until the will of the people no longer mattered, only the interests of a few.
“Here they come,” Raylan mutters as he glances outside.
I check my watch. It’s not even nine o’clock. It took them half a day to get to us, which means the red herrings worked.
The clubhouse doors burst open. Six uniformed police officers come in, the red and blue lights of their squad cars swirling behind them in the middle of the parking lot. The room goes quiet. Even the music sounds dim as the cops suspiciously look around, yet they seem equally surprised to find so many people here on a Monday evening.
“Hello, gentlemen,” Raylan says, getting up and walking over with a friendly smile. He handles our PR and always has. Nobody can resist his boyish charm or soft-spoken tone. It plays well. “How can we help you?”
“Cut the crap, Raylan,” one of the lieutenants replies. We know him—Dan Snyder. We’ve had our run-ins over the years, though he could never pin anything on any of us. “Where are you keeping her?”
Raylan’s eyebrows pop up. “Where are we keeping whom?”
“You know exactly who,” Snyder snaps back.
“You can’t possibly be talking about the mayor’s daughter,” I chime in.
“You’ve got to be joking,” Raylan adds.
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
His team certainly looks serious. But so do our club members. There are too many of us and too few of them. We have no intention of starting a brawl, but we do tend to intimidate them with our numbers, especially when cops come around. Our clients, however, try to mind their own business, but their eyes can’t look away. It’s only natural. A circus is about to unfold while Sky and I watch in silence.
“Lieutenant Snyder, we saw it on the news. You can’t possibly think we’d be stupid enough to do something like that,” Raylan replies. “It’s too obvious. Come on.”
Snyder shrugs. “Even so, I need to look around.”
“You can look around the ground floor, which is public property. The upstairs is off-limits without a warrant, but I will gladly give you access to our security cameras. We have one in every room on the top floor,” Raylan replies.
“If you didn’t have anything to hide, you’d let us search upstairs, too,” one of Snyder’s men says with a wry smirk.
“If we were dumb enough, sure. But we have a history, remember?” Raylan shoots back, calmly mirroring his expression. “And we know our rights. For law enforcement officials, you don’t sound like you’re interested in serving and protecting the people.”
“We’re looking for Ariana David,” Snyder says. “She’s people.”
“So are we,” Raylan retorts. “Come on, let me give you the tour. Hell, I’ll even let you check our storage rooms. I promise we’re up to date on all of our permits. You’ve got nothing on us, not even the slightest violation.”
“We even had the fire escape signs replaced last week,” Spike adds from behind the bar, casually pouring a couple of drafts for his customers. The remark draws laughter from the crowd.
It tells the cops we’re not helpless or ignorant. Good. They need to be reminded that we’re not to be fucked with, no matter how dire they think the situation may be. Sky and I keep our eyes on the bottom of the stairs while Raylan lets the cops follow him around. I know he’s got his side covered, but we also know that there are at least two men on Snyder’s team who are usually tasked with wandering around and “getting lost.”
“There they go,” Sky mutters.
I spot them, too. Newbies, by the looks of them. Green and young, eager to impress their superiors while still in their dark blue patrol uniforms. Smoothly, Sky gets up and moves to stand at the base of the steps, just as the juniors are about to make their way up. “Can I help you, gentlemen?” he asks with a flat smile.
“No, we’re good,” one of the cops says. “Where are your bathrooms?”
“Not up there,” Sky replies, then nods to the other side of the bar. “Just follow the signs.”
By the time they’re done pretending they need the bathroom, Raylan returns with Snyder and the rest of his crew. Judging by the looks on their faces, they’re far from happy. If anything, they’ve been wasting precious time up to this point, and now they seem eager to get out of here.
“Did you show them our CCTV footage?” I ask Raylan.
“I did, yes. The live feed, as well,” he says.
“And?” I ask Snyder. “Are we safe?”
“I’m not sure what ‘safe’ is supposed to mean for you people,” Snyder tartly replies, “but we will file for a warrant, just in case.”
