Page 16 of Demon
And there we dealt with him. Throwing him to the ground and sending the toes of heavy boots slamming into his side, in a tag-team type of approach. We only stopped when he’d finished trying to fight us off and the only signs of life from him were the raspy short breaths and the groans of pain.
“Ya barred, mate,” I said, nudging him with my toe to rouse him enough that he got the message. But then I think he’d already figured that out.
Back inside, Billy was still clutching his face as the other barmaid, Stacey, mopped him up. Across the bar Ciara just stood, her arms wrapped around herself, watching Stacey care for the man in front of her with far-away eyes.
“You ok?” I asked.
She jolted from wherever she was, her eyes scanning around wildly. No real focus on me. It was as if she couldn’t see me.
“Ciara!”
She stared at me blankly, then looked back at Billy. The blood was slowing and the floor underneath him looked like a murder scene. His white shirt was soaked in red, catching under the lights that would bounce around the club, reflecting off his middle, where the shirt was too saturated to soak up any more blood.
I moved around the bar, flicking the hatch up and opening the gate. And still she stared at Billy. Gently, I touched her shoulder. It was the slightest of touches, a little nudge to let her know I was there. Her head snapped towards me, her eyes opening wide. Her pupils dilating in terror as her mouth dropped open, like she was just about to scream but stopped herself.
“What’s wrong, darl’?”
“I…I…Billy’s hurt,” she answered eventually, fear still gripping her face. “You should go help him.”
She backed away, shuffling one step at a time, a slow retreat, hoping that I couldn’t recognise what she was doing. But I could see it. I could see the panic and fear on her face, and I recognised the way she withdrew to protect herself emotionally and physically. Those fucking counselling sessions I’d been forced to pay for were affecting me.
Ciara spent the last few hours keeping busy and not making eye contact. Not that it mattered. I hadn’t taken my eyes off her all night. I’d totally intended to just collect some takings tonight and then crawl back into bed for an early one. But the minute I’d seen how frightened she was, I couldn’t help but stick around. She’d always been so prickly. So strong. And now suddenly she looked vulnerable, fragile. And I didn’t like that. I liked the girl that was a pain in the arse. The girl that challenged everything I said just to piss me off. And right now, she wasn’t that girl. That fucker had snuffed the light and the fight right out of her eyes. If I could go out there and give him another kicking for that, I probably would.
“What you fucking moping about?” one of the Twins said from my side, not taking his eyes off the busty red-head wrapping herself round the pole on the stage.
“I’m wondering why Tez keeps relying on us to put out the fires.”
It was a half-truth.
“Thought that was part of the deal. We put our King’s name on the place, and it keeps all the daft cunts out.”
“Nah mate. Ste was more interested in the cut he’d get from this place. We’re only supposed to swing by and pick our money up. Tez probably needs to get some security. Tyne Thunder is not feared enough to run it without. If it was solely ours, then that would be another story.”
But the thought played on my mind. At some point, something pretty major would kick off and that would alert the licensing department. We’d help buy Tez by the license, but that decision would be scrutinised ifTroublecouldn’t control its own trouble.
We stayed all night; the Twins watching the women, who flocked to our table after each set. Flesh, ass and tits swarming around us. They were in their element. I was bored. And tired. And Ciara kept busy, quietly working, her usual spunk tamed to a quiet smile to the punters she served and nothing much else.
“We’re gannin yem, mate,” Cade said as the last girl finished on stage and the lights in the building brightened.
“Nee bother. See ya later.”
The club was quick to empty. Punters going home to wives and girlfriends or empty flats. Billy Carmichael had left a few hours before, his nose swollen and shirtless.
“Tez!” I shouted at the bearded man as he walked past, his arms full of dirty glasses. “Think you need to think about some better security in this place.”
He frowned, and I knew what he was thinking.
“It’ll eat into the profits. Do you know how much those companies charge?”
“Aye. But if you don’t the Council will be all over this place like flies round shit and that investment you took out with the club will cost you more.”
Tez looked deflated. Other than the basics, he’d hardly spent a penny on the place. It had been given a lick of paint, new lighting and an eclectic mix of second-hand seats and tables.
“Look,” I continued, “I’ll see what the club can do. Maybe there’s a deal to be had?”
He nodded, a look of relief on his face.
“Thanks mate.”