Page 2 of Conor
“Those fucking arseholes hit our shipments again,” Rory moans. “The Loco Salva-whatever-the-fuck they call themselves.”
“Again?” Crow frowns. “That’s the second time this week.”
“I doubt they’ll be going away anytime soon,” I say. “Considering we just took out five of their crew.”
Crow’s brow furrows like I just reminded him of something, but whatever it is, he doesn’t mention it. “Chrissakes, Conor, you still have blood on your face. Go clean yourself up.”
Even though I’ve been with the outfit for a couple years now, I’m still the youngest of the lads. So, when Crow tells me to do something, I do it. I take my leave and descend into the bowels of the club where the gambling and killing usually take place.
Sometimes it’s a pain in the arse being the rookie, but even if it takes a lifetime, I’m willing to prove myself to the brotherhood. Without them, I’d be six feet under, as useless as my father always told me I was. Crow might give me shite most of the time, but he’s been offloading a lot more responsibility lately too. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what he asks of me. I’d lay down my life for this crew, and anything else is just white noise.
That’s why I don’t hesitate when I finish my business and Crow gestures for me to follow him to one of the private lounges on the balcony. He’s quiet as he leans against the railing, eyes scanning the crowd below us.
“Do ye see something that doesn’t quite belong here, Conor?”
My eyes move over the sea of faces, and everything is blurry. At this hour, most of the lads are here, drinking and socializing at the end of the busy day. The dancers are the same, just another pair of tits and ass walking about. You’d think a lad would never get sick of looking at it, but you’d be wrong.
I’m tired, and I haven’t a clue what this is about, but it must be important. Crow likes to test me from time to time, to see how far I’ve come since I was just the bumbling kid who stumbled into the middle of one of his gang wars.
There are any number of things he could be talking about. A guy getting too handsy with one of the dancers. Another couple of blokes we’ve already booted out of here once for being too belligerent. Some sketchy looking customers in the pit, most likely jerking themselves off. But those aren’t what catches my eye. And I could be wrong, but it’s a gut instinct that I’m not.
The thing that looks most out of place to me is the little birdie hanging out in the back, her fingers beating a nervous rhythm against her table. Under the flashing lights her hair looks almost white, but I can tell she’s a blondie. A wee scrawny thing, by the looks of it. Her chair practically swallows her whole and she can’t weigh more than one of my limbs. She looks too fragile to be sitting there by herself and it rubs me the wrong way.
She isn’t here to watch the dancers, and she’s not trying to pick up clients. So really, she has no business being in the club. Still, I hesitate before I say it out loud, a little unsure of myself. I look to Crow, and he’s studying me, waiting for me to get it wrong.
“Well?” he asks. “Spit it out, Conor. I don’t have all night.”
“The blonde.”
Crow tilts his head to the side, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What about her?”
“She’s not here with anyone. I think she’s been in here before, but she doesn’t have a reason to be. At least not that I can see.”
“Aye, ye’re right.” Crow says. “She doesn’t.”
My chest expands, and it feels good that I’ve done him proud. Crow is my mentor and our superior, and it’s important to me that he knows I’m solid. But the levity slips from his face and turns to something darker. I’ve seen that look before, and I don’t like it. Because if Crow isn’t happy about it, I won’t be either.
“Truth is, I think we have a wee problem, Conor.”
“What is it?”
His fingers curl over the railing while he watches her. “She’s been hanging around here a lot. Skittish as a fecking mouse. Asked me for a job a couple of times. I suspected something wasn’t right about the whole situation from the get go. But then I hear the Locos have been looking for a girl just like her. Apparently, she was the girlfriend of that psycho they called Muerto.”
“The one we killed?”
“Aye, that’d be the one,” Crow answers. “And I have a reliable source who tells me she was in the house that night.”
“Jaysus. You think she saw something?”
“I don’t know.” Crow shrugs. “Dom swears nobody else was in that room when he popped the guy, but I have it on good authority that she was.”
His words sink into my gut like a lead weight. If she’s a potential witness, it can only mean one thing. The Irish don’t leave witnesses behind, and that’s what Crow’s getting at.
“It’s a big ask.” He turns to me. “But I’m trusting ye to handle this, Conor. Can I count on you?”
I stuff my hands into my pockets and force my words into submission. “Without a doubt.”
He nods solemnly. “I need ye to keep an eye on her. Find out everything ye can about her and what she knows, and don’t let her out of your sight. Do what ye need to do to sort this out.”
