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Or do I?
“Hold on a moment, mate. I’ll be right with you.”
Gucci Bieber gives me the stink eye, I think. It could just be his normal facial expression. It’s hard to tell.
I pull my phone from my pocket and give Sammi a ring right away. If she’s here, then she can just come up, and we can leave. If she hasn’t arrived yet, then I can just meet them outside and stop her from coming in.
Solid options, right?
Just one problem with that.
Sammi’s phone keeps going to voicemail.
And now I’m one part worried and one part angry.
“Hey, mate. Did a woman with long dark hair, green eyes, and amazing tits come through here with a group of people? One of them had pink hair? Another was a blonde. There would have been a married couple with them. English bloke and a cute redhead.”
Lil Thai Thug gives me a look that tells me that he knows exactly who I’m talking about. And the look on his face is one I’ve seen on my own when I think about Sammi’s tits.
This is great news, right? Means that they were—or are—here. It’s perfect.
Wrong!
“Sorry, homie. Can’t help you.”
Now, my blood is boiling.
I’m properly pissed off. And mate, let me tell you, being the subject of my anger is not a good place to be.
“Look,homie, I know that you’ve seen them. So just tell me where they are, or I’m going to smash your face open. You feel me?”
I get it. I don’t look intimidating in the slightest right now. Sure, I’m an imposing man. I’m 1.9 meter tall—that’s 6’3 for you Yanks—and weigh 100 kg—which is 220 pounds, in case you’re wondering. I’m built like a fucking Greek god of old. I know this.
But I’m also dressed in these weird, baggy MC Hammer parachute harem pants and a shirt so gaudy that it looks like something Michael Jackson wore on tour back in the 80’s.
I get it. I’m not the picture of someone you should take seriously right now.
So the fact that the guy behind the counter is laughing at me and doesn’t at all look intimidated is understandable.
But now, that means I’m really going to have to kick his ass. Which—if I’m being totally honest here, mate—I’m actually looking forward to.
“Go eat a bag of dicks, whitey.”
He’s starting to laugh again when I reach across the counter and grab him by the collar of his shirt. His eyes go wide in surprise. The little fucker wasn’t expecting me to grab him.
I pull him over the counter with one hand, which is pretty easy to do since he only weighs about the same as fucking toddler. I grab him by the throat and slam him against the counter.
“You had better fucking tell me where my wife is, mate. Or this getsverymessy,veryfast.”
The tough guy isn’t so tough anymore, and I hear the sound of his urine hitting the tile floor.
“Downstairs. I show you.”
“Thanks, mate.”
I let him go and he begins leading me toward the back of the joint.
He opens up the walk-in freezer door that leads down to the den below. I give him a small pat on the back.
