Running a club was never boring, and Adam was thankful for that. He had never wanted a job where he spent all of his time sitting on his ass in front of a computer. He had never wanted to have to go to endless meetings in conference rooms or wear a suit every day. He loved the club, but it was still a job and there were parts he didn’t like. Emptying out the club after closing was one of them.

 

Per city laws, they couldn’t serve alcohol after two in the morning. No alcohol meant no money; last call was at one thirty, and at two the lights came on and the music was turned down. There were always those people who would boo and yell for the lights to be turned down and the music up, people begging to keep the party going. While Adam appreciated that there were people who didn’t want to leave, the law was the law. As people finished their drinks and made their way out into the night, the club slowly emptied. At three o’clock, the bright lights came on and the music turned off; this was the cue for all the bouncers to start sweeping the club. Kids making out in the booths, passed out in the bathrooms, smoking weed in back corners, group by group, they were found and sent out into the night.

 

For certain people, though, the rules were different; Andre Nichols was one of those people. Even though the club was emptying out, fresh drinks were still appearing at his table where he was drinking with two other men and four women. Andre was tall and strong, he and Adam went to the same gym, his dark skin shone under the bright lights, and he smiled when Adam approached him.

 

“Good night?” Andre asked.

 

“Couldn’t ask for better,” Adam answered.

 

“Not that it matters, I heard about you saving that Kane girl’s life, heard her father appreciated it in a monetary way.”

 

“Business was good,” was Adam’s only reply.

 

“Moses,” Andre said to one of the men at the table, “take these ladies to the car. I’ll be there momentarily.”

 

“You got it, boss,” Moses said, leading the group away.

 

“Take a seat, Adam,” Andre said. “I might have something for you.”

 

Adam sat across from Andre. His face had almost entirely recovered from the fight with Dakota’s attacker. The bruise under his eye was gone and he had finally been allowed to take the bandage off his nose; but he still hurt. His cracked ribs made it impossible to do anything too physical and he still winced if anything touched his face, but he knew those were temporary. He was ready to get back to work, to hit the gym, ride his bike, and forget about Dakota Kane.

 

“It’s about the Kane family,” Andre said.

 

Adam sighed and said, “I don’t work for the Kanes anymore.”

 

“I know. You did your job, made your money, and got out. Everything looks normal, the whole problem wrapped up in a little bow. You were very smart. You did everything right.”

 

“But,” Adam offered.

 

“But, what I hear, it’s more complicated than that.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, the Kanes may not be out of the woods, so to speak. There’s something else going on, people are rumbling and making noise. That guy they caught, Michael Martin, he wasn’t working alone.”

 

“Police say he was.”

 

“Give them enough money and the police will say whatever you want them to.”

 

“So, who is he working with? What’s the plan now?”

 

“Information, like drinks and this club, are not free, my friend.” Andre said, leaning back in his chair. This is what Andre did: information. He knew everyone in the city; he knew who moved and sold what. He was part of a major drug operation and Scarred Angels was his favorite club. He drank there even though dealing had been forbidden within its walls.

 

“The Kane contract ended. Why would I pay you for information if they aren’t paying me anymore?” Adam asked.

 

“Because contracts can be picked back up. There is still money to make, my friend, if you want to make it. But you ain’t the only person in the city with a protection racket. If you have no need for my intel, I can take it somewhere else.”

 

“What do you have and what do you want for it?”

 

“I’ll make you a deal, Mendel; you let me bring some boys in here at night, move some stuff around, give you a cut, I’ll tell you for free.”

 

“No,” Adam said, staring straight into Andre’s bright eyes. “Never.” Adam knew that some drugs moved through Scarred Angels; they did the best they could to curb it, but people were smart. Small bags of Molly, X, and weed were always going to be snuck in. But he could never permit someone to actively move large quantities through Scarred Angels. It would get the club shut down and land his men in jail. Adam had worked too hard to make this club a legitimate enterprise. He wasn’t willing to throw all that away.

 

“A grand then,” Andre said, looking away as if he were bored with the conversation.

 

“A grand for what? Do you have anything concrete?”

 

“Nothing concrete in my world, but we both know that when Scarred Angels went legit someone was going to fill that hole you left behind. Just because you’ve stopped escorting drugs and picking up boys for the mob doesn’t mean no one is moving drugs or doing hits for hire anymore. You go straight and there’s ten groups behind you ready to pick up the slack.”

 

“I’m not giving you a grand for something I already know. Who is it?” Adam said. His jaw was set. He was staring at Andre with an intensity that unnerved the other man.

 

“Soul Stealers,” Andre said.

 

Adam made a face at him, dismissing the notion, “The Soul Stealers are half a dozen guys on shitty bikes. You’re telling me they’re going after the Kanes?”

 

“The Soul Stealers were a bunch of dumb kids, and then somebody hired them and gave them a lot of money to do a certain thing. They did it badly, but promised they would fix the problem, but their fix didn’t work either. But they got their money, and there are a lot more of them now and they aren’t giving up. They’ve promised their new employer they can get the job done. Plus, the Kanes think they’re in the clear. They got the security at the castle up and running, but no bodyguards.”

 

“How can you be sure about this?” Adam asked feeling sick. ”They failed twice. Who would still be paying them to kill somebody?”

 

“Can’t be sure about anything, but I do know there are a lot more Soul Stealers than there used to be, and they have money. Whoever hired them thinks they’re an investment, a work in progress. They’ve been buying from us, drugs and guns. They aren’t small time anymore, and don’t ask me who told me about the Kane job; you know I can’t tell you that.”

 

“They have the guy who did it is in jail. I caught him myself and he hasn’t said anything about the Soul Stealers.”

 

“They may have been a chickenshit operation, but they ain’t fucking around anymore, Adam. That guy wasn’t smart enough to get away with it, but he is smart enough to watch his mouth. He’s not telling anyone about the Soul Stealers. He’s not safe in jail; they can find him there and he knows it. Just because he ain’t talking doesn’t mean he doesn’t have anything to say.”

 

“Who hired them?” Adam asked. “Who’s funding the Soul Stealers? Who’s trying to kill the Kanes? Who’s pulling the strings and who’s providing the money?”

 

“That, I do not know,” Andre answered.

 

“And you have no proof, and you can’t tell me who you got this info from,” Adam said.

 

“I told you the truth, Mendel. You can do with it what you will, but I want my money.”

 

Adam sighed and nodded. Even if Andre were wrong, which he probably was, he was a good ally to have. “I’ll give you five hundred. You tell me who hired the Soul Stealers and you’ll get the other five. I’ll meet you by the door,” Adam said, getting up and walking away. Five hundred dollars was a lot of money for something that technically didn’t concern Adam anymore. But it was important that a job not just be done, but be done well. Plus, it was Dakota, even if Adam weren’t being paid to protect her, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to.

 

Could it be true, the Soul Stealers turning into a real presence in the city? Scarred Angels had encountered the Soul Stealers a few times. The most memorable occurrence was when the Stealers had messed up a job, leaving drugs and bodies in places they weren’t meant to be. Scarred Angels had been hired to come in and clean up their mess. The Soul Stealers were a joke. Half of them were too old school to function in the new digital world where it was so easy to be traced, and the other half was reckless kids who couldn’t think ahead. Most clubs had heritage and history; older members taught and mentored the next generation. The Soul Stealers was starting from scratch, maybe they had worked out their growing pains. Money made everything easier and if the Soul Stealers had a backer, that would change the game significantly.

 

Adam took five hundred of his own dollars from the safe and clipped them together, slipping the large wad of bills into his back pocket and heading back down to meet Andre. Who would have hired the Soul Stealers? Who wanted John Kane dead? In his research on the Kanes, Adam had learned that John Kane was the definition of an upstanding citizen. He never took bribes, or pushed his weight around; he did everything above board and to the letter of the law and demanded everyone in his organization do the same. John had taught a course on business ethics at UPenn; he practiced what he preached. Adam thought it impossible that he could have made an enemy this focused on killing him.

 

Still, it all had to come back to money; it had to. Dakota was his sole heir and if anything happened to her, the money was split between relatives and charities. Adam and the police had ruled out any of the heirs as having a probable cause to murder. Kane took care of his family, not that there were many of them. If they needed money, which none of them did, they just had to ask. That was the whole problem with this Kane business: there was no motive, no reason for anyone to want to hurt him or Dakota. The idea of a lone crazed gunman had made the most sense, until Andre had mentioned the Soul Stealers.

 

Andre was waiting at the door and Adam discreetly slipped him the money. “You let me know if hear anything new,” Adam said. Andre gave a nod and left, the club was officially empty. The bartenders were closing up, bar backs and servers were cleaning up overturned drinks and empty shot glasses. A cleaning crew would come in a few hours and give the place a good once over and they would start the whole thing all over again tomorrow.

 

Adam wondered where Dakota was at that moment. He had done as James Hastings had asked; he had no contact with Dakota since her attack. He hadn’t gone to the mansion, hadn’t driven past the front gate, and he hadn’t been anywhere near her apartment or the Kane Home. But he hadn’t deleted her number. He hadn’t forgotten her soft hands, or the feel of her lithe body on top of him, he vividly remembered the taste of her, and how it felt to be inside of her. A dozen women had hit him on that night, all of them young and beautiful, some of them rich, but none of them were Dakota. They all paled in comparison with her; nothing any of them did had any effect on Adam. They danced, downed shots, touched his leg, played with their hair, and he had just stared and wondered what was wrong with him.

 

You love her, a voice in his head offered, but Adam shook that away. He had only spent a few weeks with her and she hated him for most of that time. He had been her employee, not her friend or her boyfriend, just a body that followed her around. Until he wasn’t. Until that night drive when Adam had touched that stray hair on her cheek; he had no idea what would follow. There had only been the desperate need to touch her, to prove to himself that she was a real flesh and blood woman, not just some mirage set on tricking him. She was kind, and smart, and beautiful, and he had been alone with her and wanted her. He never would have guessed that she wanted him back, until she did.

 

But he hadn’t heard from her. No phone calls or texts, and he had been instructed not to contact her. Dakota Kane could have any man she wanted; Adam had just been a booty call for her – a stress reliever, a fun romp in her daddy’s car with a biker, nothing more. He had been a one-time thing and she had probably forgotten all about him already.

 

So what was he supposed to do with this information, if it was even accurate? Who should he call? James Hastings was the obvious person, but Adam hated working through proxy. The police? They had a suspect in custody, they were still patting themselves on the back for catching Kane’s attacker (even though Adam had done most of the work), and he doubted they had any interest in re-opening their case. It would be a media frenzy and Adam had no proof, nothing but the word of a well-connected dealer.

 

Dakota’s number was still in his phone. But he had promised to end all contact with the Kanes. He was supposed to delete their info from his life. She was so close, but felt incredibly far away. He wanted to talk to her face to face, to laugh with her, to touch her...No, he stopped himself, no more of this self-pitying nonsense, either shit, or get off the pot. That’s what his uncle had always told him. Indecision was nothing more than a slow death.