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“Marcus, contact the club owner in the morning and get us a list of VIP Suite guests from tonight,” Derek ordered.
Marcus gave him a single nod and pulled his phone out of his pocket.
“And while you’re at it, let’s get a list of the employees that were working tonight, too,” I added.
Derek raised a brow at me and chuckled lightly, “Looking to get more information on your favorite bartender?” He nudged my arm. I wasn't going to let him have the satisfaction of being right, but I did want more information about her. She abandoned me in that restroom, and I never saw her again.
The sex was incredible; I had never met someone who was so responsive to me, and it only made me crave her more; she was consuming my thoughts, even now. When I returned to the bar after checking in with Derek, she was gone.
“Yes, and no. I’m pretty sure someone on the staff was involved in this. He didn’t just leave the club and end up in this warehouse by himself.” I stated.
If he had brought his briefcase to the nightclub, he would have done business there instead of here.
“You’re right; I don’t see why a guy like him would be here alone. I’m going to go call clean-up and get this body taken care of.” Derek pulled out his phone and stepped away from the group, moving towards the doors for some fresh air. I could use some myself.
Taking one last glimpse at the body, I heard a door slam at the back of the room and turned my head to look in its direction. I hummed and made my way across the floor to the door that was swinging open and slamming against the wall due to the wind.
I noticed fresh tire tracks in the mud and several footprints as I stepped outside. I quickly grabbed my phone and started taking photos of the tire marks and footprints before they were either washed away by the rain or accidentally covered up by someone else.
I went back inside and stopped next to Dean.
“Dean, I sent you some photos. Get those analyzed as soon as possible and find out what kind of vehicle they were driving.” I gestured toward his phone, and he nodded. Then, I moved over to Derek by the doors.
“You found something?” Derek asked as I stood beside him.
“Tracks and footprints out back. That’s how we missed them.” I exhaled and rubbed the back of my neck.
Seconds. We missed them by fucking seconds.
“We’ll get them. The cameras were a good call to look into, and hopefully, this guy will lead us to even more answers.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder to the bloody mess of a body.
“Hopefully.” I echoed his words, breathed, and gazed out into the rainy night. It was our first day on the case, and we had come so close to catching them, only to miss them by mere seconds.
Something tells me they will be all too easy to catch now due to their overconfidence in their work, or we are in for a lot worse than just the body in that chair.
I barely remember getting back to my apartment last night. We waited an hour until clean-up arrived, and by the time they finished, it was already two in the morning. I didn’t even plan to be at the nightclub that late.
Dragging my ass out of bed, I still managed to squeeze in my morning run before heading into the office.
While I was out for a run, I decided to take a break at a coffee shop located across from the sculpture park. It was a cloudy morning, and a gentle breeze helped to cool me down as I rested. I pulled out a chair from one of the empty tables, sat down, took out my phone, and unlocked the screen.
Going straight to my contact list, I saw the number for the bartender the waitress added to my phone under the name Chaser, and I was tempted to send her a message. When I returned last night, all I could think about was her. The feel of her lips on mine—the taste of her on my tongue. I could feel myself growing hard at just the mere memory of it all.
I opened my messages and selected her number, beginning to type something—anything—before I lost my nerve.
Me: Hey, this is Atlas. From last night…
Feeling incredibly stupid about my choice of first message, I sat there for a few moments, then placed my phone on the table and looked up at the sky, inhaling deeply. She’s not going to respond.
It wouldn’t have surprised me if she just blocked my number as soon as she saw the message pop up. After a few more minutes passed, a chime came from my phone, and I picked it up, my heart pounding in my chest. It was her.
Chaser: Who gave you this number?
Me: Your waitress friend.
There was a long pause between my reply and her following message. It felt like minutes before her name popped back up on my screen.
Chaser: Of course she did… Let me guess. Do you want to take me to dinner?
