On the Sly : The Grange Complex Book 2
On the Sly: Chapter 8

Mack

I shifted on my seat, gripping my glass tighter, telling myself that I had to stay calm. Lurkin didn’t date; he fucked whatever he wanted and never tied himself to anyone. Alcohol was coursing through my veins, making me angrier and more impulsive than usual. I needed to remember that I was here for one thing only and that thing was Lurkin’s trust.

“She’s pretty and smart, but I don’t think she’s the kind that fucks around,” I told him, drinking more of my Guinness. He laughed, shaking his head.

“I bet she does, mate,” he argued with a wink. Jealous rage rose within me and I didn’t know why. I had no right to claim Ellie, but I didn’t want this asshole to taint her with his dirty claws. I knew everything about him. He was one twisted son of a bitch.

“At least she doesn’t nag like Claire does. They laid me off and she’s so panicky, thinking that I won’t replace anything else,” I complained.

Someone at the back started to sing the Scottish national anthem. Some woman told the bloke to shut his mouth.

“Ellie came to borrow a charger last night and we both heard your argument,” Lurkin said, not being soft about it at all. Crap, I wasn’t expecting Ellie to hear it, and why the fuck did she ask him, not me?

“Sorry, mate, I didn’t mean to ruin your pitch, but Claire pissed me off. I’ll get a job sooner or later.”

“Women, huh,” he admitted.

“You should be glad that you’re single. Nagging is the worst. All right, so my business didn’t take off and I screwed up. I’ll do anything for now just to shut her up,” I said, sounding down.

“I need drivers, Mack. I’m planning to expand next year. I know that this isn’t something that you were probably considering, but I guess it would help you earn some quick cash.”

I was ready to slap myself. Lurkin was smart. He didn’t piss around the place where he lived and he needed to keep that nice guy persona for people who didn’t know about his real business.

“You’re offering me a job?” I asked, sounding surprised.

“It might not be long term, but it should sort you out for now until you get back on your feet. And it should get Claire off your back,” he added, winking at me, like he understood that I was having a hard time with her.

“Anything, mate. I appreciate it,” I said, feeling angry that Claire was right. I didn’t believe that Lurkin had enough balls to offer me something like that. I didn’t think that he trusted me enough yet, but I guessed I was wrong.

We chatted a bit more, until the second half started. He ordered a few more drinks, showing me what kind of a great neighbour he really was. I bonded with him that afternoon. It was just the beginning, but at least it was progress. Starting Monday, I was done with being stuck indoors all the time. I felt and worked better in the field, where I could make a real difference. Things were moving slowly, but sooner or later Lurkin was going to make an error and I would be ready for it.

Ellie

“I want to write about something meaningful, Phil. I’m a good reporter, but you haven’t given me a chance,” I argued, standing in my boss’s office, trying to fight my corner. I had no idea what had gotten into me. Yesterday had been the worst Sunday in my life. After drinking the whole bottle of wine, a horrific hangover had shut me down. My burn wasn’t too bad, though. Mack’s gel really helped with the swelling and pain.

My old friend Rebecca cancelled her visit, saying that she just met a guy and he was taking her out. I was having problems adjusting to being on my own. Back in Glasgow I was always surrounded by friends, but since the scandal I had been hearing less and less from them. Deep down I realised that they never truly cared for me; they wanted be seen with me because I was the daughter of one of the most powerful men in Scotland.

“Ellie, you will write whatever it is we need. Crime is for the big boys. Just stick to what you know.”

Chauvinistic pig. This wasn’t how I imagined my career would be when I got the job here.

“No, Phil. I’m more than capable of writing about murders, gangs and everything else, anything other than some damn cat that went missing two years and finally came back to the owner. I want my name to be on the first page,” I said, really fed up with the fact that Phil kept looking at me like I was his next lay. I knew what he wanted, but sleeping with him wouldn’t make me feel any better about myself. I had a bloody degree and a master’s, spoke two other languages and because of one stupid mistake, I had to work with some pervert that thought women were beneath him.

“Honey, the streets aren’t for you and your pretty face. Jordan has people on the inside, his own sources. No one will give you a story for nothing.”

“What if I go out and replace something interesting?” I snarled in anger, placing my hands on my hips.

“I don’t care what you do as long as you bring me what’s needed to be written every week—you know, the usual crap.”

I pressed my lips in a hard line. The usual crap. So that’s what ten years of studies gave me. Some crappy little fluff pieces that weren’t relevant to real news and didn’t make a difference.

“Fine, I’ll do that,” I snapped and stormed out of his office. Okay, that wasn’t very smart, because, yet again, I let my emotions get in the way. There was no point getting angry. I was simply no one to Phil.

I didn’t go back to my desk; instead I headed to the bathroom to change my bandage.

“A private club? With a stripper?”

I stopped in the hallway, hearing Jordan’s goofy voice somewhere on the stairs. I hadn’t been working at the paper for long, but I had noticed that he was always on his phone.

“Right… yeah… all right, but how do you know that there’s something going on up there?”

I moved closer to the wall and waited, chewing my nails. I was done with being a doormat. I bet Jordan was talking to his source. Maybe I could pick up on something interesting.

“Johnny Hodges—wow, that’s big. Do you think he’s back in the area?”

My heart started beating faster. I knew that surname, Hodges, from somewhere. I had to Google it later.

Jordan was listening and then he said, “Coral. I got it, but we need evidence. Besides, he hasn’t been active that much,” he added, then laughed out loud. “Thanks, mate, have to go. I have shitloads of work to do.”

I backed away quickly, running to the bathroom. I was on my phone then, checking the information about that guy Johnny Hodges. Nothing came up and I bit my lip so hard that I didn’t realise it hurt. After some failed searches, I managed to figure out that Coral was the name of a club in a well-known neighbourhood. Something was going on there and Jordan was waiting for information. It took me a moment to calm down. There was no point in getting excited. I had only heard snippets of his conversation, but no one said that I couldn’t sniff about in that club to see what else I could replace out.

There were only two other girls that worked in the office and they didn’t seem to have any ambition. Maybe they were happy writing about the usual crap. I did some polishing and editing until it was time for me to leave.

On the way back to the complex, I made a decision. It was now or never. This kind of opportunity wouldn’t present itself again. Phil was going to regret this, because once I had the real story I would sell it to a bigger paper with an editor that bloody well gave a damn.

When I got back to my apartment, I quickly changed into a more provocative outfit, and around seven I drove to Granton. I looked sexy but felt a little less confident when I parked in the dark back street. I was on my own and I needed to be careful. Focus and awareness was the key.

As I stood outside the loud club, I began having second thoughts. But then I reminded myself that this was my career and my new life. Dad wanted nothing to do with me and I needed to prove to him and myself that I was good reporter.

Coral was one of those posh, exclusive clubs filled with rich people and many men that were looking for adventure for a night. I had no idea what I was looking for—something, anything that could take my career to the next level. I needed an article that could get me a job at a real paper.

I used a lot more makeup than usual and wore a short leather mini skirt and high-heeled boots. It was bloody freezing outside and I had to queue for some time before I managed to get inside. My knees were shaking slightly.

The loud music thumped its beat in my head and my stomach churned when I realised how large the club really was. Despite the fact it was Monday night, it was quite busy. There were a few people on the dance floor. I needed to get to the bar.

The bar was less occupied than I thought it would be, but I thought that might be because of some private club downstairs. A few days ago I’d heard Jordan talking about a private club. At the time I hadn’t really cared, but now everything was making more sense. I quickly figured out that men needed an invitation to get inside the private section of Coral.

“What would you like?” asked the tall Scot with a friendly manner at the bar. He was young, probably in his early twenties.

“Vodka and Red Bull,” I shouted through the loud music. He nodded and I glanced around. A few guys were staring at me. I felt quite intimidated being here on my own, but I was done with playing lost posh girl in the city. It was time to take matters into my own hands.

The barman returned with my drink. I was nervous and my pulse was racing. A few women in tight latex uniforms joined the barman; they were embraced by guys in expensive-looking suits. One of them was that guy from the singles party that I went to in the Grange. If I remembered correctly, his name was Harry.

He had his arms around a pretty redhead with high boots that came over her knees. They ordered a drink and didn’t notice me, which was a good thing. I wondered what he was doing here, and when I looked towards the secret door a moment later, I saw Harry sliding through it with the redhead, leaving me burning with raw curiosity.

The handsome barman was now talking to some pretty blonde with big boobs. I had no idea what I was really doing here. My head was screwed by ideas that couldn’t really be executed. It would have been good to have a strong man beside me, one who truly cared for me. I sipped a bit of my drink to feel better about myself and glanced around the club.

For a split second I thought that I saw a familiar face, but then I thought, No, he wouldn’t be here at this time of the day.

I narrowed my eyes and tossed my hair behind me realising that my eyes weren’t misleading me. Adrian, my next-door neighbour, was on the other side of the club talking to some tattooed guy with glasses. They looked engrossed in the conversation. I wondered silently what he was doing in a place like this. Well, I shouldn’t really be surprised. First Harry, then Adrian.

I drank more vodka and kept watching them. After some time the tattooed guy looked pissed off, but Adrian turned around and started walking towards the lower part of the club, ignoring him. His face wasn’t showing any emotions. The tattooed guy followed him and soon they both vanished behind the doors to the private part of the club.

I didn’t waste anymore time. There must be something important behind those doors if all the men were going there. The website of the club hadn’t revealed anything specific. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to get inside without a code or some sort of invitation. Adrian had said during drinks in Mack’s apartment that he had his own business, that it was something to do with food. Half of the time I wasn’t listening, trying to deal with the shock I’d experienced when I discovered that Mack was married.

I wandered closer to the door, took out my mobile phone, and waited for someone else to go inside. It took another half hour before a suited and booted guy typed the code in while I pretended that I was on the phone.

Just before the door closed, I slid inside with my heart in my throat. Okay, they were probably going to throw me out of the club, but that was just a small detail. I needed to get used to stuff like this if I wanted to make it as a good reporter.

Once inside, I found myself on a narrow staircase. I hurried down, looking around. In front of me there was a long white corridor filled with stacks of beers crates. I could hear music upstairs, but when I started walking further down the hallway I heard the loud beats of a song coming from the other side, like there was a separate room. Maybe some customers were having their own private party.

Further down, the corridor split in two; there were doors on the right side. All I needed now was to locate Adrian. I had no freaking idea what I was going to say to him. There was a stack of beer pallets and other soft drinks on the right, and when I heard the door, I dropped down, hiding behind them. This was so stupid. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I simply entered the private part of the club reserved for members only.

“How much for a kilo?” asked a rough, deep voice.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” asked another voice that definitely belonged to Adrian. “There is a time and place for that kind of shit. How many times do I have to bang it into your stupid head? I’m invisible and Stew is the one you should be talking to.”

“Sorry, Mr. Lurkin, I had no idea. He only hired me the other week,” mumbled the other guy.

“Christ, why do I have to work with so many amateurs? Get the fuck away from me before I fire you, and drop that shit into my car.”

“All right, Mr. Lurkin.”

I heard footsteps and the door being shut. I couldn’t make out anything from this conversation that made sense. It sounded like Adrian was waiting for some sort of package.

“What are you doing here?”

I froze for a second and turned around. There was a tall skinny man standing in front of me. I was so absorbed with what was happening with Adrian that I hadn’t seen him approaching.

“Eee… I’m waiting for someone,” I blurted out in an uneasy voice, knowing that it was a lame explanation. He looked me up and down like he was checking me out, but I didn’t register anything but raw lust in his dark eyes.

“Darren is out of the game and you’re late. Come with me; auditions have already started.”

“Aahh, okay.”

He turned around and started walking away.

“Hurry! I don’t have time for any drama,” he barked at me, and I followed him, still pretty confused.

He barged through a black door into another large dark room. When my eyes registered the space I nearly lost my balance. In the middle there was a small stage with a pole attached to the ceiling. The lights were illuminating it and flickering. There was a guy sitting at a table with a drink in his hand. At the back there was a small bar.

“I’m sorry, I don’t under–”

“Jesus! I told you, I don’t want any drama this evening,” the tall annoyed guy said, cutting me off. “Get on the stage and show me what you can do. All the other girls weren’t very good. We want to see something sinful and erotic.”

My stomach dropped, because I realised they were expecting me to dance on the pole; they thought that I was here for some sort of audition. It looked like I had to dive back in my memory and recall all the moves that I so desperately wanted to forget, but unfortunately, the show must go on.