Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

Twenty-Six Years Ago

The club is dark and sleazy, like most of its customers; perhaps denizens would be a better description. Occupied by the lost and those wishing to be so, the unwanted and the unwantable, it caters to those not wanting to be noticed by the passing world, or those the passing world will perhaps see, but then look away from.

The bouncer looks askance at the blue uniform, moving from his spot in front of a luridly-coloured poster of young women of unlikely proportions and appeal. He stands to block the entrance, then jolts back as he recognizes the face at the top. “Sorry, Corby. Didn’t realise it was you for a minute there.”

“’S fine Pat. Just let me through.”

“You expected?”

“Yup.”

“Should I send ahead?”

“Nope.”

Inside, Corby grimaces at the mix of sweat, smoke and stale air. Sweeping a view through a blue haze over the hunched shoulders of solo drinkers, past the gawpers ogling the stripper under the spotlight, he settles on the shadowed nooks at the far end of the bar.

A figure half hidden in the gloom raises a glass towards him. Bech pushes back his cap then strolls across, taking a seat at the table. He ignores the startled glances of those he passes. In any case, as they see who he is sitting with, they look away again.

“Drink?” Enrico Romani raises a finger to the barman who heads smartly across the floor.

The cop lounges in the seat, carefully not touching the scummy-looking table top. “Thanks, no. Business, not pleasure.”

Romani awards him a cool look, waving the hovering barman away again. “I took that as read… So, what can I do for you, Corby? You’ve got the wrong brother for your line of work. Guido handles the women. I’m on the enforcement end of the business. You know that.”

“Yes, I know that. But that’s not why I asked you here. In fact, I have something for you. A little gift that I think your father will appreciate.”

Enrico cocks a brow, the expression twisted by a scar acquired no doubt during one of his enforcement activities. “Oh? And what would that be?”

his chin. “How’s it going at court? Is the prosecutor…. Max Devlin is it? ….

“And why would

been trying to access Mr

good though. He’s locked down tight. Twenty-four-seven protection, mirrors under vehicles, whole fuckin’ courtesy-guard on the way

“So, you would appreciate some leverage? To get him away from all that… Something to tempt him out to play.” He

glances down, slides it up and open, then reads… “An address?

Devlin. The father might be under tight security, but a school of little girls

dawns across Romani’s face, stretching the scar. It’s not a

the grin fades. He sniffs, swipes a finger across his nose. “Not that I don’t

“Let’s just say that the Romani family owes me

fuck. What’s Max Devlin done to

belong. Let’s leave it

stares him down. “So, you want my family to do

you like, but I don’t hear you

He stands, offers his hand. “Thanks, Corby. I’ll make sure Pop hears

“I appreciate that.”

watches as Romani leaves, his smile

less problem

*****

Charlotte

me. “I’m going on-site this morning,

love to.

by the area

“Your bridge…”

you say,

“So, what’s happening?”