A King’s Gambit (Connor Reed Series Book 8) by Quentin Black

Author:Quentin Black [Black, Quentin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Trachinidae Publishers
Published: 2023-05-31T16:00:00+00:00

17

Oshain ‘Bambi’ Riley, despite the spring month, wore a black cashmere jacket. He had come out to show his face at the front door, and the blond, lantern-jawed Krzysztof, a native of Poland, nodded to it. “That will be your father’s side of you that needs keeping warm.”

Oshain smiled—most people presumed that of his Jamaican side, but it had been his deceased mother who had been Black.

“It’s to make me look as massive as you, Krzysztof.”

Despite the humour, he saw the Pole’s chest expand before he asked, “How is the new guy doing?”

“His name is Stuart, and he seems to carry himself well. But nothing has been happening at the minute.”

Krzysztof nodded before cutting away to conduct random searches.

Oshain kept an eye on the long line of customers vying to get in. Mostly male, as expected at a strip club, but a surprising number of women.

The owner, Cara Sinclair, had told him, “Keep groups of loud, young pissheads out of my club, Oshain. I know they bring in the most money cos they’re reckless and think with their dicks and egos. But they are the ones who cause the aggro because they think with their dicks—understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he had answered, fully expecting her to ask him to desist from being so formal, but she didn’t.

A group of five in their early twenties, fitting her description, approached the front. All sported physiques of developed chests and biceps—indeed, the tallest had his shirt lifted and was aggressively pounding his raised abdominals with his hand’s heel. Oshain could not tell if he wore a grimace or if he was gurning. The rest began indulging in similar peacocking displays.

Oshain sighed. They had adhered to the club’s dress code policy, so he would have to use another reason to bar them.

He put a hand on Krzysztof’s arm as the Pole reached out to search them. “Not tonight, lads.”

The blond straightened in time with the compression of his facial features. “You what?”

“‘Not tonight’ from a doorman translates as—we are not letting you into the club tonight.”

“Eh? We’re all dressed right. Why the fuck you knocking us back?!”

The nights of Oshain conjuring abstract reasons had gotten boring to him. “Because we don’t want a gang of young, coked-up lads with attitudes around the girls.”

“You fuckin’ what?” barked the blond. “You’re calling—”

“I think the noise from the entrance is mashing your hearing, bruv. Let’s go around the corner, just you and me. Krzysztof, can you hold the door?”

“Yeh, boss.”

“After exactly one minute, let his mates come around. I’m not doing any heavy lifting myself.”

Oshain looked at the guy before slanting his head to the corner leading to an alleyway, the side of the club on one side and a high wall on the other.

He began to walk backwards, and after two paces, he took out a plastic case before removing a yellow and black striped gumshield.

Before he could raise it to his mouth, the lad exclaimed, voice now higher pitched, “I’m not going around there. Anyone could be around there.

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