The rain hammers the walls on either side of the tight alleyway.
Some girl is yelling at her boyfriend ten yards behind us. And I'm standing here, staring into the terrified eyes of a guy half my age. Pinned against the wall, he's holding his breath as I squeeze his throat.
Two of my boys have a gun pointing at his head.
I lean so close I can almost smell his fear. "Drugging girls in my club? You must have a fucking death wish."
"N-n-no," he stammers. "You've got the wrong guy. I swear I—"
"Shhh." I press a firm finger to his lips. "Do I look stupid to you?" He shakes his head, and I feel the gulp in his throat. "Good answer, tough guy."
I nod at one of my bouncers, and he lowers his gun before approaching us.
"Finger and thumb," I tell him.
Greg does as I ask and grabs the guy's left hand.
The drug-dealing prick panics. "W-what are you d-doing?"
"Aww." I snicker and step back a pace. "What's wrong, little boy? You were man enough to drug Cindy in there." I reach into my suit jacket and pull out a pair of leather gloves. "What's your name, tough guy?"
His eyes grow wide as he watches me slide on the gloves. "Jimmy. Why are you putting those on?"
"Don't want to get blood on my knuckles." Jimmy's lip quivers and I lower my gaze to the crotch of his blue jeans. "Look, boys. Little Jimmy here is peeing his pants."
"Pussy," Greg snarls in his ear. "That girl you tried to drug was my cousin."
"I'm s-s-sorry. Please let—"
"Shut your fucking whining," I bark, pointing at him.
"You were man enough to walk into my club and take advantage of an innocent young girl, so you'll be man enough to deal with the consequences. Because every action has a consequence, Jimmy. If you lie to me, Greg here is going to snap your fingers. One by one. Understand?"
The wet patch on Jimmy's groin spreads to his thighs. "And what if I tell you the truth?"
"Then you just get the beating you deserve. Your choice. Like I said, every action has a consequence. Maybe you'll remember tonight when you think about drugging young girls again."
I run a hand through my wet hair.
"Did you drop a roofie into Cindy's drink while she was in the bathroom?" I ask him.
Jimmy swallows hard and nods.
"Speak up. Can't hear you," I growl.
"Yes," he mumbles. "But please just—"
My fist slices through the air, colliding with his nose, and the crunch of snapping bone echoes in the damp alleyway. Jimmy slumps to the floor as I lift my glove into the rain to rinse away the evidence.
"That was just a taste. Stand up," I say.
"Please." Covering his face, blood seeps through Jimmy's fingers as he climbs to his feet. "Please. I'm so sorry!"
"Ever wondered what the inside of your head smells like?"
"N-no, why?" he hesitates to ask.
"Because you're about to find out."
Just as I clench my fist and pull back my arm, my phone rings. I wouldn't usually let anything get in the way of dishing out justice on pricks like Jimmy, but I've been waiting for an important call.
"If you move, Greg won't be so nice," I tell him, pressing my phone to my ear. "Chris Collins."
"Howdy, partner."
I shake my head and smirk. People say that business and friendship don't mix well, but Mark Reeves and I are exceptions to that rule. We've been close friends for almost twenty years, and we jointly own thirty nightclubs. Thirty-one if the deal he's working on this week goes well.
"You always did have the worst timing, pal."
"Why?" Mark asks. "Having fun?"
"Yup. Doing the thing I love the most…"
Mark snickers. "Feel sorry for the poor bastard. But listen, you're going to have to put him on ice for a while. I'm cashing in that favor you owe me."
I exhale. "This better be good. What's wrong?"
"Harper missed her bus, so she's stranded in the rain," he says.
Hearing his daughter's name throws me back to a promise I made, and it seems like a lifetime ago.
"Stranded?" I roll my eyes at my boys. "I'm sure she's old enough to look after herself, Mark."
"She should be. It's just…" I hear him shush someone. "She's alone at the gas station. And she mentioned some weird guy. I just—"
"Understood. One second."
The heavy rain dilutes the blood on Jimmy's face as I glare at him.
"You just won the fucking lottery, little boy. If I ever see your face in any of my clubs again, it's game over. No second chances. Now get the fuck out of here."
Jimmy shuffles past me with his arms raised, but I grab his denim jacket and reach inside. I stuff the roofies in my pocket and pull his ID from his wallet.
"Let's call this insurance," I say. "If I even hear your name in the next month, I'll come to your house myself. And I won't knock."
Jimmy runs to the safety of the streetlights, and I press the phone back to my ear. "Right. Tell me where she is…"
Six minutes later, I'm sitting stationary in my brand-new Aston Martin as a red-haired cop taps his knuckles against my window. I roll it down.
"Do you have any idea how fast you were going just now, sir?"
"Nope," I say. "Enlighten me."
"Eighty-six. In a thirty zone."
I shrug. "Like I said, I'm in a hurry."
"Can I see your license?"
I'm less than a minute from the gas station, so I decide it's best just to get this over with. I reach into my jacket and hand him my license.
"Hmm," he mumbles, shining a light into his hand. "When was this photograph taken?"
"I don't know. What kind of dumbass question is that?"
The rookie cop shines his torch into my car. "Date of birth."
"You want my number too?" I wink at him. "No offense, but you're really not my type."
"Step out of the car, sir."
I rub my forehead. "Just give me a ticket and get on with solving actual crime."
"Identity theft is an actual crime, Mr. Jimmy Nash." Fuck. I gave him that prick drug dealer's license. "Anything to say about this?"
"Just a misunderstanding. That's my colleague. I have mine here." When I reach inside my suit jacket, I pull out my wallet and the bag of roofies falls into my lap. "It's not what you think…"
The rookie cop steps back two paces and pulls out his gun. "Switch off the engine and step out of the car, sir. This is a lawful order."
"Give me strength," I mumble, turning to the officer. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to pull out your radio and contact Sergeant Mulligan. Tell him you just pulled over Chris Collins, and he's getting annoyed."
I turn back to the steering wheel.
"You have sixty seconds before I drive away," I add. "Ticktock."
In my peripheral vision, I see the cop step backward, and I hear the crackle of his radio. Then I hear the raised voice of a man I've known for years. After a brief conversation, the confused officer approaches my car and hands back the license.
"I take it there's no problem now?"
He lowers his head. "No, sir. Sorry to have stopped you, sir."
I could easily get this kid fired…
"Why did you want to be a cop?" I ask, gripping the wheel.
"Just wanted to make a difference in the world, sir."
I glance at the steel dog tags hanging on my rearview mirror.
"Yeah. I remember that feeling."
More memories of the promise I made all those years ago flicker in my mind, and I turn back to the open window.
"Take this piece of advice, kiddo. If you see me or this car doing things you don't like, just pretend you haven't seen anything. From now on, Chris Collins is Mr. Invisible, understood?" He nods. "Good. Then you and I will get along just fine."
The wheels skid as I speed away, and it takes less than a minute to reach the gas station. The place looks empty except for a truck at pump six.
"Where are you, Harper?" I mutter, gazing around.
And then I see what looks like two people at a bus stop a hundred feet ahead.
A young woman and an older guy. She looks uncomfortable, but that can't be Harper Reeves. She was a skinny seventeen-year-old kid with acne and attitude the last time I saw her. Now her blonde hair looks longer and darker, and she has feminine curves in all the right places.
And why the hell is she only wearing a bra?
The guy steps closer to her, so I slow my speed to a crawl.
I squint through the darkness and realize her white shirt is soaking wet.
Then I see Harper step backward as the guy lifts his hand to her hair.
"You picked the wrong guy on the wrong fucking night…"
I switch off my headlights.