"Look, Johnny. I don't care how much money it takes; just get me the hell out of this state," James barked into the phone, brows deeply furrowed as he sat in the passenger seat and watched his nephew drive.
"I'm doing my best, Logan boy!" Johnny's voice came from the other side, not sounding happy. "It's not my fault my contact is out of reach. He must be on some business; else, he wouldn't ignore my calls."
"Don't mess with me! Just get me the damn ticket out of this place. I'm on my way to the club." Disconnected.
Eric, who had been listening to the entire conversation, adjusted his hands on the steering wheel. "Is there some problem?"
"Nothing you need to care about." James snapped.
But Eric didn't like the tone. He scowled. "You know what? You can either ask people to do your shit nicely, or you can just go and screw yourself and do everything alone." He was fed up—completely fed up. Since he walked into the damn warehouse this morning, the older man had been nothing but a pain in the ass. Eric didn't know how long he could stomach this shitty attitude—the man was seriously getting on his nerves.
James probably realized his mistakes and slumped back into the seat, suddenly tired. "You're right. Of course. I'm just...not feeling good about this." He shook his head slowly, eyes on the road ahead. "I mean, I knew this would happen sooner or later, but I didn't expect myself to get so shaken up. Dad really caught me off guard with all that confrontation. He just...what if he opened his mouth and told everything to everyone..." He trailed off. But then he scoffed and rolled his eyes. Who the hell was he kidding? If he knew his father any better, he knew the truth was out in the open long before he came to confront him.
Eric noticed the bitter look on James' face. "What is it?"
James glanced at Eric before letting out an irritated sigh. "I'm thinking everyone probably knows about us."
"Us?" Eric's brows shot up. "There's no 'us,' James. What the hell are you talking about? What did Grandpa say? Did he know about me too? Did he mention me?"
"Oh, shut the hell up!" James' own frustration was reaching a boiling point. "He knows. I don't know how, but he does. Why else do you think I told you to come with me? We are leaving this place together, do you hear me? I'm not leaving you behind so you could snitch behind my back."
Eric gripped the steering wheel tighter. "No. It's impossible. I don't believe you. They don't know. If Grandpa didn't mention it, then he doesn't know."
"Believe what you want, but I'm not taking any chances. We need to get out of here, far away, before things get worse."
But Eric couldn't stop thinking about it. For obvious reasons, he couldn't shake off the anxiety of being judged by his entire family. He might have his issues with Ronin, but he loved his parents. And Carmen. He loved her so much too. Could she have found out too? Would she hate him for the role he had played in the attacks on Ronin?
Then again, why should he care about what she thought of him? Didn't she choose Ronin that day when they both went to bring her back after the accident? She chose Ronin, not him. She probably didn't care about him at all.
In no time, the car pulled up in front of a tall brick building. The club was closed for business during the day, and the roads were empty except for a few cars parked along the streets.
James and Eric hopped out of the car and went inside the building through the back door. They entered a small storage room, leading to a huge kitchen space. A young boy in his early twenties looked busy with a mop, earphones stuffed in his ears.
James snapped his fingers in front of the boy to get his attention. "Where is Johnny?"
The boy paused, looking up and frowned. He tugged on an earphone. "What?"
"Where is Johnny, dammit?"
"Second floor," the boy supplied before going back to mopping the floor.
James and Eric followed the directions, making their way through the dimly lit corridors of the building. As they ascended the narrow staircase, the muffled sounds of music and distant chatter grew louder. They reached the second floor and found themselves in a dimly lit hallway adorned with neon signs.
Johnny, a wiry man with a disheveled appearance, sat behind a cluttered desk covered in papers and monitors displaying security footage. He wore a nice suit with no tie, the top few buttons of his white shirt wide open. His bore some old scars around his cheeks, as if he had taken a terrible beating in the past. He looked up, acknowledging James with a nod. "I just got off the call. He agreed to help you. For a price, of course."
James panted, dropping the bag on the chair by the door. "That's great. That's great." He rubbed his hands. "Did he give any instructions? Should I talk to him personally? Does he need—"
The Johnny guy cut him off. "Just sit and tight and wait here. My contact will send someone to pick you up."
James nodded, relieved, but also tense at the same time. He didn't know how much time he had. He had no way of knowing it. He had already destroyed his personal phone and was only carrying the business one with him. He couldn't risk getting busted by the cops if they were already hot on his trail.
Eric walked into the room, his footsteps light as he fixed his gaze on the man behind the desk. "Does this contact have a name?"
Johnny looked up from his computer screen, brows pinched. "Not a real one for sure," he scratched his jaw. "And you don't have to hover over me while you wait," he turned to James. "Why don't you Logan boys head to the Red Velvet room? I'll send someone over to take care of you."
James didn't argue, it was as if he trusted the man completely. "Sure. Send someone nice."
Eric didn't like the level of comfort James was feeling in a place like this. Sure, he had accompanied James to many business places before, but he had never dealt directly. He always kept an arm's length distance from such a filthy crowd, never revealing who he was. It was probably the reason he was able to keep his image clean for so long. He was the force behind the curtain while James used his experience to bring them business and clients.
James guided them down the same dimly lit corridor towards another room at the end, marked by a black door with the club's logo in gold.
Red Velvet Room was a dark-themed room with soft music playing in the background. . Luxurious couches were arranged against the wall, and a small stage with a pole took centre stage. Eric had encountered such places before; these rooms were typically reserved for private sessions in high-end nightclubs.
Before his thoughts could reach any conclusion, the door behind him opened again, and two stunning young women entered, wearing scanty attire. Each of them held a tray of drinks and snacks.
James gestured towards the couches. "Have a seat, Eric. Make yourselves comfortable. These lovely ladies are here to take care of us."
Eric frowned, unsure if he wanted to be taken care of. Weren't they in a rush here? What was the point of this ridiculous setting? How could James even think about women at a moment like this?
He turned to face James, glaring. "Are you serious right now?"
"What?" James shrugged, quite at ease for someone whose life had turned upside down in a day.
"You don't see anything wrong with this? You want me to spell it out for you?" Frustration burned through his bones. He turned to the two girls and pointed to the door. "Get the hell out of here! Right now!"
The two girls exchanged uneasy glances before hastily retreating from the room.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Eric snapped, his frustration boiling over. "We don't have time for this nonsense. Don't you think we should talk about what happened?"
James pulled a frown of his own. "What is there to talk about? We are screwed, and that can't be changed. Sure, once we get out of here, then, we might have all the time in the world to talk about any shit you want. But excuse me if I don't want my head to explode with all this pressure right now. Everything is taken care of. We will be out of this mess in no time. So, do me a favor and calm the hell down, and let me have my fucking peace."
Eric clenched his fists, the anger pulsating through him. He was regretting this—oh, he was regretting his whole life right now. Why the hell did he ever trust this man? Why did he agree to help him with his illegal bullshit? It was all so screwed up. But maybe, just maybe, it wasn't too late. If he played his cards right, if he blamed James for every damn thing that went down, maybe his family would toss him a lifeline. Yeah, that's it. He had to try to get the hell out of this place. He couldn't blindly follow in James' footsteps, knowing damn well it was leading them both to the brink of catastrophe.
He ran a hand through his hair. "You're right. I need to calm down." He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. "I'm gonna take a small walk. Be right back."
James was so used to Eric's usual compliance that he didn't doubt a thing. "Whatever. Just don't go too far. We can leave any moment from now."
"Sure."
Eric stepped out of the room and hurried down the stairs. There was no point in wasting any of his time with James anymore. This was where they parted ways.
But as Eric barely slipped into his car across the road and turned the key in the ignition, a convoy of black cars screeched to a stop outside the building. He had no clue what was happening. However, when he spotted Diana and Simon stepping out of two of the cars, accompanied by a bunch of armed men, he knew he had just narrowly escaped a fucking disaster.
A/N: Oops like Eric escaped. What do you think he would do next? Any ideas? :P