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Barking out the address to the cabbie, who loads it onto his phone, we head off.
Outside the club is a stream of people dressed to impress and waiting to get inside. Girls are covered in a thick layer of makeup, wearing clothes that leave very little to the imagination and the guys are dressed in the usual garb kids wear these days. After a quick glance, I can see that neither Connie nor Peter are in the queue. Climbing out of the cab and chucking the cabby an extra fifty-pound note for the trouble, I head straight over to the bouncer, not bothering to queue up. He takes one look at me and unhooks the rope, letting me in much to the grumbles of the waiting crowd. There’s something to be said about a ‘don’t fuck with me attitude’ and that bouncer knows not to fuck with me tonight.
The minute I set foot inside after paying the fee to get in, I’m hit with a wall of heat and noise. I've been to many clubs like this in my time and they’re good for one thing: getting pissed and finding someone to take home for the night to fuck. I can’t believe that little prick Peter thinks he can take my girl here and get away with it.
My girl?
That thought should surprise me, but it doesn’t. She’s been mine from the first moment I laid eyes on her. It’s only now that fact is really beginning to sink in. Forcefully pushing all thoughts of ownership out of my head, I walk up the stairs to the section of the club that overlooks the main dancefloor. It’s heaving inside, already filled with sweaty bodies and half-drunk revellers. A deep bass pounds in my ears and thrums in my veins, but the beat is sexy, sensual. It puts me on high alert because I know that Peter has brought Connie here to woo her, and dancing is just a prelude to that. The little shit. Heading to the bar, I jerk my chin to the bartender who takes one look at me and comes running.
“Double brandy, straight up.”
Less than a minute later I’ve paid and downed the shot in one go. It’s enough to take the edge off, because right now I’m fucking murderous. Pushing off the bar, I scan the mezzanine floor. Neither Connie nor Peter, are here, which means, in all likelihood, they’re on the dancefloor below. Peering into the crowd below, I hunt for my Little Siren. It doesn’t take me long to spot her.
“Motherfucker,” I exclaim, my jaw gritting and my hands wrapping tightly around the banister I’m holding onto. Connie is in the centre of the dancefloor surrounded by her two girlfriends I met briefly last year, Jack, and that Peter bastard. She smiling, her eyes pressed shut, her very bare skin covered in a sheen of sweat and the tiniest little dress I’ve ever fucking seen. It barely covers her damn arse. To make matters worse, Peter is grinding against her, his hands gripping her hips possessively. Even the little arsehole Jack is giving him daggers.
Jealousy, like nothing I’ve ever felt before, floods every inch of me and it’s all I can do to keep my cool. If it weren’t for my phone buzzing in my back pocket I would’ve stormed onto the dancefloor and ripped the little shit, a new one.
Sliding my finger across my mobile screen, I click on the message from JMSBOND. Talk about perfect fucking timing. The arsehole has kept me waiting long enough.
His name is Abel Trent. On the run. Three counts of sexual assault. One count of rape.
Motherfucker!
The King?I message back quickly, needing to know if there’s a connection. JMSBOND will know what I mean.
No connection as far as I can find.
It’s a relief, but only a mild one. The little bastard’s a sexual predator and he has my girl. Fuck! I don’t respond, instead my attention zeroes back in on Connie and Abel. Pure, unadulterated fear spreads over me, but beneath that the man I used to be comes back full force. I’ve kept him under wraps for years now, never wanting to go back there. Tonight he’s coming out of retirement. This kid might be dangerous, but I’m the original Punisher, and this dickhead isn’t going to survive the night.
Committing murder in a packed nightclub isn’t how I deal, so for the next few hours I watch the group. They dance, they drink, and they have fun just like the rest of the young people here. Whilst Jack still clearly has a thing for Connie, given all the surreptitious looks he keeps giving her, he doesn’t try to make a move. Peter has well and truly claimed Connie and is making that well-known, even though my Little Siren is apparently oblivious. Given the way she’s moving, stumbling every now and then, it’s obvious she can’t take her drink, or the fucking cunt has spiked the ones he’s been buying her.
My teeth gnash together. I want to go down there and rescue her now. I don’t want to watch a moment longer. I want to fucking act. But if I do that right now, then there’s no chance of us getting away because I will murder the cunt right here in front of everyone.
I have to be patient no matter how much it’s killing me inside.
Ma Silva might have kept Connie cloistered from the world, but she hasn’t done her any favours keeping her in the dark. Connie has lived a sheltered life on the island and has no idea how the big bad world works. Tonight, she’s going to come crashing back to earth with more than just a hangover.
It’s almost one in the morning when the group decides to leave. Outside Jack and the two girls say their goodbyes to Connie and Peter and climb in a cab, but rather than doing the same, Peter wraps an arm around Connie’s shoulder and starts walking down the road.
I follow, readying myself for the moment of attack.
