basis?”
Chapter Six – Disarmed
New York City
August 26, 2011
1:39 am, Eastern Daylight Time
Jens nurses his Lightning Liquid and beer by the front door, watching intently as Cole continues to make progress at the bar. Squinting through the darkness he realizes the girl with the angel wing tattoos seems to be alone. Without a friend that he can hook up with, Jens’ brilliant plan is quickly falling apart...and in retrospect, his pack-hunting theory might need some refining.
Without warning he’s struck from behind, knocking him off balance. Jens stumbles, dropping his drink. The glass shatters across the dance floor and soaks the stilettos of an entire bachelorette party. Teeth grinding, he spins to confront the clumsy son-of-a-bitch who just spilled his hundred-dollar drink.
“What the hell, man? Who the fu—” And in mid-sentence he freezes, coming face-to-face (or face-to-absurdly-hairy-chest, more accurately) with a seven-foot powerhouse dressed like a Hawaiian tourist. “ Dude ,” Jens whispers, the color draining from his face. “That was totally my fault. Totally.”
Heinreich remains expressionless.
“Are you in the mood for a martini?” Jens holds up handful of cash, waving it like a white flag in surrender. “I’m buying.”
As they continue their conversation, Dia glances over Cole’s shoulder and spots Heinreich towering a full head above the crowd, his dark eyes scanning the club.
“Hey,” she says with a tremble in her voice, unable to maintain eye contact. “Wanna continue this conversation at my place?” She snatches her purse off the bar, rapidly flinging the strap over her shoulder.
“ Definitely ,” Cole responds without missing a beat, trying his best to remain cool. “Let me go grab the car keys from Jens.” He jams a thumb behind him. “He’s probably still over by the front door…”
Dia lunges forward and grabs him by the shoulder, ensuring he’s unable to pivot in his chair. “No, no, no…don’t bother your friend. I’ll hail a cab.”
Without giving him a chance to respond Dia yanks him from his chair and drags him half-stumbling through the crowd. They bump shoulders with several agitated business men as they plow their way through to the exit.
Reaching the steel door at the side of the club under the glowing red ‘Fire Escape’ sign, Dia slams her palm into the crash bar and pulls Cole down a flight of concrete steps into the alley.
As the door slams shut behind them they’re confronted by a very well dressed Asian man who’s smoking a cigarette, leaning against the side of an abandoned car.
Dia tenses her hand, burrowing her fingernails into the back of Cole’s hand. “We’re too late.”
Chapter Seven – Incipient
New York City
August 26, 2011
1:55 am, Eastern Daylight Time
Dia’s eyes are wide, panicked, locked on Goto’s as she backs away. Fingers interlaced with Cole, she drags him along.
Goto flicks the remains of his cigarette into the street and removes his designer sunglasses. “Fancy meeting you here, Miss Davenport.” He carefully folds the glasses into a black case before sliding them into his coat pocket. He takes a moment to re-button himself and adjust his long wool scarf, as if he has all the time in the world. “Although I have to admit, I’m somewhat disappointed. I thought we’d have to work a bit harder to catch up with you, especially given your history. Showing up at Platinum? On a Saturday night, no less? You might as well have posted your location on Facebook.”
Dia continues to backpedal as Goto advances, walking in unison like a perfect mirror image. “I stay away from that shit. You know, Big Brother watching and all.”
“He does like to keep a watchful eye on you lot, doesn’t he? And as you know, it’s our job to send you to The Basement when you step out of line.”
A towering figure emerges from the side door of the nightclub and joins them in the alley. Heinreich steps to