Then I realized the men coming in to attack didn’t get through the front. My men were on the doors, and I hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to them yet as the cops were taking their sweet time asking all the questions.

On the way past a forensic person, I stole a glove, sliding it on my hand. No one bothered me. I was merely the owner walking around. I checked the door and ran my hand across the lock.

The door had been pried open, and when I glanced down, I saw the crowbar. The people who attacked my club were sloppy. Why attack and not take their weapon of choice? Rather than give it to the police, I placed the crowbar out of sight with the intention of giving it to my own personal analyst.

I had more faith in the men I paid for than the cops assigned to help me out.

The room they came into was the storage room.

I followed the path and came to another door, which was even more interesting. This one wasn’t pried open. This one appeared to have been opened with a single flick of the wrist, which I did, and stepped out.

The scent of cigarette smoke assailed my senses. I never smoked, and as I looked at the shaking woman who immediately stood, my nerves went to an all-time high.

“You shouldn’t be out here. The cops are going to want to interview you.”

“Have they talked to you?”

“No. I didn’t see anything. I was dealing with inventory, you know.”

I stepped a little closer, and this time, the woman whose name badge labeled her as Casey, tried to run. She dropped her cigarette as I wrapped my fingers around her throat and pressed her up against the wall.

“Please, don’t kill me. I don’t want to die. Please. Please.”

Her sobbing filled the air, irritating me. She wasn’t sorry for what she’d done.

“Why don’t you tell me what is going on right now?” I asked. I was calm.

“I don’t know anything. I swear, I don’t.”

I shoved her up against the wall, squeezing her throat tightly. She tried to claw at my wrists, but her nails had been so chewed down, she couldn’t even leave a scratch. It would be so easy to watch her die. I didn’t need her. She was the cause of three deaths.

But I needed information.

Releasing her neck long enough to let her breathe, I continued to stare at her as she whimpered and moaned.

“Please. Please,” she said. “I don’t want to die.”

“Then why don’t you start talking? Give me enough information, you’ll live. You don’t, well, we know what is going to happen to you.”

She whimpered. “I … they didn’t say what they were going to do. All I was supposed to do was open the door, that was all. I opened the door and I got my daughter back. I’m trying to be clean, but it was so easy.”