“Is something wrong?” I ask, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.
I already know who is in charge. He’s closest to the bar, shoulders wide and solid like a wall of muscle daring me to run again. His hair is longer on top and short on the sides, modern in style and, though it’d be classified as dark blonde, it’s nowhere near so prosaic with the natural shimmers of walnut, auburn, and chestnut. His neatly shorn beard is somewhat darker, but that only serves to define his jaw. He’s all business and there’s an energy about him so intense it makes the other two appear…I don’t know…novice perhaps? Less engaged?
“You’re Jules?” he asks, proving me right.
“Yes.”
He raises a lone eyebrow at my curt response. I notice his eye colour matches the timbre of his voice; rich amber-whiskey orbs…husky and guttural.
“The same Jules who assisted Thomas on the stairs of Olive Tower, earlier this evening?” he presses.
Carlo side-steps, partially blocking me from his sight. “Who wants to know?” he growls. His brusque interruption draws their eyes and MisterI-feel-drunk-just-looking-at-him, finally breaks eye contact with me.
The man’s lip curls at one side in a half smile. “We work for Mr Nagano, the brother of the man you saved tonight.”
Did he mean Mr Serious?Then it hits. “Saved? Is Tom alive? Ishe okay?” I step forward and bury my nails in the bar without even realising. Carlo lays his hand down upon mine and strokes over my fingers, loosening them from the varnished wood.
“He’s alive and undergoing surgery as we speak. Which is why Mr Nagano sent us instead of coming down himself,” the man explains. He lifts his arms, pulling back the lapel of his coat with his left and reaching into the inside pocket with his right. Carlo stiffens, raises up to his full height, grips my wrist and tugs me behind him once again. It feels like slow motion, but it all happens in time it takes the man to remove a business card from his pocket.
Am I still in shock? Can shock mess with time? Or is it me? Am I out of it?
“I’m glad he made it to the hospital,” I whisper, but no one hears me over Carlo.
“So, what do you want with Jules? Why are you in my bar? And why does it take three men to collect one girl?” I would ask the same things myself if I had any wits about me.
The man takes a deep breath and nudges his head toward the door. The younger man at his side takes the hint and exits, taking Mr Double-Wide in the doorway with him.
“You ran off,” he accuses. “You were witness to what happened tonight and instead of hanging around to answer questions, you decided coming here was more important.”
I didn’t owe this man shit, but something about his accusation and the fact that he’s talking directly to me instead of through Carlo makes me rush to explain myself. “My job was at stake. I…I couldn’t stay there any longer.”
“I understand. But you’ll still need to answer questions. Mr Nagano would like you to join him at the hospital.”
Carlo makes an amused sound beside me, a huff of air and incredulity. “Not happening.”
“And you are?” the man asks, taking Carlo’s presence into consideration.
“I own this place and I know her parents. There’s no way I’mletting her walk out of here with you. If your Mr Nagano wants to talk to her, tell him to get his arse down here. Or better yet, he can fucking wait until she’s processed things. You can see she isn’t right.”
The man nods. His features stay controlled, giving nothing away. “I understand what happened was—” His voice is empty of emotion; he can’t even bring himself to sound sincere and it’s funny, but that’s what brings me back to myself. This familiar bullshit fakery. The same fakery I get from Mum. The same fakery I live by.
And I fucking hate it.
I’m a real person. I have a life, feelings, and dreams. Tonight terrified me. I’m still scared out of my mind, damn it. I deserve a shred of human emotion, concern, compassion—something.
I cut him off before he utters the lame excuse sitting on his tongue.
“You think you understand what I went through? You don’t understand what it was like. I was the only one there. Don’t you dare tell me you understand or try to empathise when you can’t even muster up sympathy in your voice. Your boss wants answers, but I don’t know anything useful. I found Tom. I helped Tom. I left. That’s it.”
“Jules—” the man begins. There is a hint of a plea in his voice. Though I doubt it’s for me.
“No.” The word rumbles in Carlo’s chest. “You heard her. If she says she’s done, then she’s done.” He folds his arms across his chest. A moment passes between them where neither man backs down, then Mr Suit sighs.
“At least take this.” He slides the business card over the counter and taps it twice with his index finger. Carlo and I stare at it, neither bothering to take it, but I catch his name and stored it in my mind.Aiden Driscoll.Such an ordinary name, but there’s nothing ordinary about these men. Which means there’s nothing ordinary about Mr Nagano either.
Aiden edges closer, leaning one arm on the counter andreaching into his trouser pocket. He pulls out cash and slips a ten from the wad. “Cola.”
As I reach for a clean glass, Carlo grabs my hand and lowers it to my side. “I’ve got this one.” I step back and watch Carlo serve Aiden. Neither men’s gaze strays from the other’s unless it’s to shoot a look at me. Even Gresh keeps his beady eyes on the action rather than my chest.
