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“I have no idea,” I answer, hurrying back inside, worried.
20
DANNY
* * *
I’m the second to make it outside after James, my dress shoes skidding to a stop when I see Brad on his knees next to a body. “Fuck,” I whisper, recognizing the suit. The blond hair.
“Nolan.” Brad looks up and down his body, his face a picture I hate on him. Horror. Problem is, I’m worried his concern is wasted. This kid has a lot of questions to answer.
Or . . . had.
I look down Nolan’s body, searching for movement, reaching for Brad’s shoulder. “Turn him over, mate,” I say, bracing myself for the damage, along with everyone else.
“No need.” Nolan rolls over of his own accord on a wheeze, and Brad falls back on his arse on a gasp. “Fuck, that hurt.”
I stare, flummoxed. Has this kid got nine fucking lives? “For fuck’s sake, Nolan.” I reach down and grab the lapels of his jacket, hauling him up to my face, raging. “I’ll fucking kill you myself one day.”
“Whoa, easy,” James says, seeing my predicament. I seriously want to grill him. Can’t do that.
“Fuck, Danny,” Nolan yelps, and I drop him, scowling, looking him up and down. “You shot?”
“No, I was fucking hit by a fucking car.” His face creases in pain as he struggles to sit up. Brad’s still on his arse, staring at the concrete.
“Hey.”
He looks at me, and I recoil.
“What happened?”
He seems to shake himself to life, wedging a palm into the concrete and pushing himself to his feet. “Drive-by.” He looks down the alley, and I follow his stare, noticing a body splayed out. “Got caught in the crossfire,” Brad explains, as I wander toward the dead man.
I stop and stare down at his body. “He certainly did.” What a fucking mess. “Did you get a registration?”
Brad shakes his head. I look at Nolan. He shakes his head too.
“And what were you doing out here?”
Brad raises his eyes but not his head, warning me off. I heed the warning. He looks on the edge of lunacy right now. He lifts his arm and looks under it. “Fuck’s sake.”
“You’re bleeding.” James moves in and takes a look. “Flesh wound. You should get it checked out.” He goes to Nolan and pulls him to his feet. “A trip to the doctor for you too, my boy.”
“I’m fine,” Nolan grumbles, hobbling away.
“It’s not up for negotiation,” Brad grates, storming through us all, back into the club. “Close the club and get the mess cleaned up,” he barks at Mason as he passes. “I’m going home.”
I give everyone the nod and they all disperse, leaving me and James alone in the alley. “He’s not telling us something,” I muse quietly.
“I’m worried about him.”
“Yeah,” I say, scuffing my shoes on the concrete. “I think we should take this opportunity to have a chat with Nolan.” Let’s get that little issue resolved, cross it off our list of things to do. “I’ll meet you in the upstairs office. Make sure Brad’s gone.”
I head inside, seeing Nolan limping into the men’s. I check the coast is clear and follow him in. “This way,” I say, taking his arm and leading him right back out. “We need a friendly chat.”
“What? What about?”
“About your friendly chat with a cop.” I turn my impassive face his way, and the terror is instant. Speaks volumes. I can only imagine the menace in my expression.
