Page 6 of The Redemption of Alex Cade
Kelvin’s eyebrows arched towards his hairline. “A drink? Is that a new euphemism for?—”
“No, it’s not. One drink, then he went home.”
“You let him go home, without…? That’s a new one.”
“Which you would know about, because you’d have been watching the monitors.”
“I don’t track your every movement, Alex.”
Don’t you?I wasn’t always sure where Kelvin’s protectiveness ended and his control began, all I knew was that it had been hardwired in him from the day we’d met.
I made my way to the kitchen and got the coffee on; I needed to wake up and fast. Kelvin followed me and sat down at the sleek granite island.
“What happened last night is a reminder we need to tighten up on security,” I said, changing the subject, veering him away from Kit. “Not just in Euphoria but in all the venues.And, make sure stuff isn’t getting in. Security have been confiscating more than they should have been lately.The punters want to play, they do it with our toys and for a price.”
Stuffmeaning drugs. Neither Kelvin nor I were naive enough to believe we could catch every pill or powder on every clubber who came through the doors, but we had trusted sources and good relations with our supplier, and we needed to keep it that way.
Kelvin nodded. “It would have been easy for that to have got out of hand last night. Even a drunken punch up is bad for business.” He pushed his fingers through his thick, dark hair. Deep lines bit into his forehead. “Security needs a rocket up its arse. I know you’ve spoken to Ewan but we need to underline our concern. If he doesn’t get his guys to sharpen up, I’ll do it for him.” He mimed a cutting motion across his throat, then laughed. “I do love our little performance reviews.”
“Kel—” I’d seen what happened when Kelvin got people tosharpen up.
“Fucking liberty,” he muttered, taking the coffee I poured for him. “It’s like taking your own pint into a pub. We make sure the law turns a blind eye but violence, even minor, has a way of growing legs and with the recent murder…”
We met each other’s eye. A violent murder in a gay club had hit the headlines just months before. A teenage boy. Wrong club, wrong night, wrong rejection. Toilets painted red. Parents crying on the evening news. Not one of our venues, thank Christ, but the ripples had travelled far and wide. The night time sector was edgy, the Home Secretary and the Mayor had been posturing for the TV cameras, and the moral crusaders had been demanding a crackdown to protect the young and innocent. But, amidst all the hot air and political points scoring, the message had been clear: make sure the ship was watertight. Kelvin and I had already had that off-the-record conversation with our contacts.
“I’ve spoken to Mateo,” Kelvin said, switching subjects. “Our very imaginative head of corporate entertainment has come up with a possible schedule for some more special events at the house. Themed, to appeal to certain tastes.”
I snorted. We’d given Mateo, one of our most trusted and long standing employees, the joke job title. Imaginative didn’t even begin to describe the man’s twisted creativity for events at the large, sprawling house Kelvin and I owned in affluent, leafy Hertfordshire, just north of London. Secluded and with tight security to deter any would-be interest in the line of expensive cars that drew up twice a month, it was the perfect venue for our very private parties.
“They’re easy money and very profitable,” Kelvin said, “and the boys are always up for a boost in their income. Very handy with Christmas on the horizon. They can buy something extra nice for their old mums.”
I nodded. The parties had taken off in a big way. Discreet enquiries about invites were carefully screened, with more rejected than accepted. We’d deliberately created an air of exclusivity, which meant we could charge top dollar. The invitees were all rich, powerful men, some even household names, and were more than willing to pay our price.
“Participation is on a strictly voluntary basis.” I didn’t need to say it as much as I did. The boys we employed, there could never be any hint of coercion. It was the reason I wouldn’t and couldn’t get involved with the likes of Mehmet Aksoy. Kelvin, more than anybody, should know why that was.
“Babe, the boys won’t be in any danger. I won’t let that happen.”
He slipped off the stool and came round behind me. For a bulky man, he could move with the silence and stealth of a cat stalking a bird. Of course he wouldn’t let that happen,because injuries were bad for business, just like fights in the clubs were. No, that wasn’t fair. Kelvin was as hard as nails, and god knows that was needed to survive in the world we inhabited, but he’d always treated the boys well, had looked after them, and made sure they got what they needed. Just as he’d done for me, all those years before.
Warm hands planted themselves on my shoulders, the massage light but making a point, and I let my head fall forward.
“I made a promise. I made a promise toyou, Alex. That the boys would always be safe with us. I’m not going back on that.”
I swung around, dislodging Kelvin’s hands. “Then why do you want to do business with Aksoy? People trafficking, for god’s sake. Those poor bastards are little better than slaves.”
“They wouldn’t be, not if they worked for us. They’d be treated the same as the others.”
“Would they? Really? Undocumented illegals who’d do anything not to be found out and shipped back to whatever shit hole they’d come from? Don’t take me for a fool, Kel.”
“And don’t call me a liar. We run a business. A very profitable one. Oneyouprofit from. Don’t ever forget that. But if we stand still, we’ll get overtaken. Working with Aksoy would mean a steady supply?—”
“A steady supply of frightened, broken men, their involvement in the business not through choice because they’d have no choice. Sounds a lot like coercion to me. We do well because we stick to what we know. We don’t step on anybody else’s toes. Our interests are protected but that’d be harder if we got involved in a racket like the one Aksoy runs.”
“It’d be good business sense to have a relationship with him.”
“Would it? Because it’d be the end of ours if you try and force us down that route. I mean it, Kel. I’m serious, because that shit is a hard line for me.” My chest tightened and constricted as I kept my gaze fixed on Kelvin.
“You wouldn’t turn your back on me, on us. Not after everything we’ve been through.”
