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All sorts of feelings jostled inside me as I walked back down the stairs. Residual adrenaline washed through my system and my fingers curled at the memory of that fucking guy with his hands on Esme.
With all eyes on the show, getting to the bar wasn’t too much of a problem.
“Thelma!”
My bar manager turned to me, her brow furrowed, and her blue eyes concerned. “Big night.”
“Yeah.”
“What did Tony do to get fired? He’s only been here a week.”
“Left Esme out front to get attacked.”
Thelma’s eyes widened in horror, and she lifted her hand to her throat.
“She’s okay. I got out there before she was seriously hurt.”
“Thank fuck. I’m half tempted to rehire that cock sucking idiot, just so I can fire him again.”
Smiling grimly, I said, “I’m still dealing with this other problem, so can you send some food and a coke to Esme. She’s in my office.”
“Sure thing. You don’t want to bring her down here? She can sit by me.”
With a shake of my head, I said, “She’s better up there. It’s chaos down here right now. I couldn’t deal with it if something more were to happen to her.”
“Fair enough. I’ll get something sent up right away and you let me know if you need anything else.”
“Will do, thanks.”
Twenty minutes ago, the fact that a photographer had somehow got into my club had seemed urgent and threatening. Something that required my full attention, all my energy. Now all I could think about was how quickly I could round the fucker up, so I could get back upstairs. To Esme.
“Any luck?” I asked Greg the moment I entered the security room.
He was sitting before the row of monitors, his face uplit by the dials on the control board. “Not yet.”
I surveyed the screens, tamping down on my impatience. I couldn’t even check on Esme from here, since my office was the only room in the whole fucking place that didn’t have surveillance cameras in it. Minutes went by and, despite my best effort, my impatience came back. Just as I was thinking, fuck it, let Greg handle it, Greg leaned forward, peering at the screen, his body rigid with tension.
“There he is!”
Energy surged through me when I looked at the monitor Greg was pointing at. One of my other guys had the photographer by the scruff of the neck, trying to maneuver him through the crowd, and struggling. “Bring him to me.”
Greg went out without a word, and it was all I could do to make myself stay in the room. The guy was caught now, so it wasn’t entirely necessary for me to stay for this. Except that I had to find out how exactly he’d got through security, or secured an invitation and on top of that, make sure he knew the consequences of messing with me and mine.
It took a few minutes, but I was finally dragging the security room door open, taking a vicious satisfaction at the way the schmuck’s eyes widened in fear when he saw me.
I was sure he hadn’t expected to be dealing directly with me. “Right, let’s get this over with.”
Greg shoved him inside, pushing him into a chair and swinging him around so his back was to the screens. He was reed thin, with watery gray eyes, a bulbous nose and a receding hairline. His cheap brown suit was an offence to everything I stood for.
The thought of Esme waiting for me upstairs filled my mind. I reached forward and pulled a tiny camera phone from his pocket. Sweat beaded on his forehead when, without taking my eyes from him, I dropped it on the floor, crushing it under my heel. With internet blockers all over the club, there was no way he would get anything out of here that would come back to bite me. With the immediate threat taken care of, I said to Greg, “Call the police.”
“The-the police, sir?”
“You heard me. I want him charged with trespassing, invasion of privacy and fraud. Because this,” I reached into his other pocket, pulling out the laminated invitation card, “is not legitimate.”
The idiot attempted a sneer, started to say, “You can’t do this! Freedom of the—”
I was done. Wrapping my hand around his throat, I squeezed with just enough force to have his eyes bugging out of his head. “I don’t give a fuck about your freedom, you dumb fuck. If I didn’t have better things to do right now, I’d be dragging you out to the car park and teaching you a lesson that I can’t guarantee you’d ever recover from.” I let him go, and he sagged back against the chair, rubbing at his neck. Aware that Greg was staring at me, I flicked him a look. This was certainly not how I normally dealt with this sort of thing, but, as I said, I had better things to do right now. “You good?”