Taken. Jacqui Rose

pussy wasn’t a problem for him – but it rankled his ego.

      On the way across to join them, Alfie grabbed a bottle of cheap house red from behind the bar; if her pussy was already taken for tonight, he wasn’t going to bother breaking open a bottle of the expensive stuff, though from what Alfie could make out, so far she’d stuck to drinking water.

      ‘Vaughn!’ Alfie slapped Vaughn hard on his back, a little harder than usual; something which wasn’t missed by his friend.

      ‘Alfie; let me introduce my new friend, Casey. Casey, this is the friend I was telling you about who owns the club.’

      Alfie smiled tightly as Vaughn quickly turned his attention back to Casey.

      She waved as way of a greeting and Alfie sat down to join them to watch the show. It was gong night at Whispers, the most popular night of the week, and Alfie could feel the whole club buzzing with anticipation. Would-be comedians, old timers and members of the public had three minutes each to get on stage and keep the crowd laughing. Members of the audience were given red cards on entering the club, and if for any reason they found the person on stage unfunny or just took a dislike to them, they could lift up their card; three red cards in the air and the master of ceremonies would bang the gong, much to the crowd’s amusement.

      Since he’d been running gong night, Alfie had seen very few people actually get through the three minutes, and the drunker the crowd got, the less chance anyone had of getting to the end; unless of course they were him. Not one card had ever gone up when he took to the stage on gong night – no one dared.

      ‘So are we going to get you up on stage tonight, Casey?’

      ‘I think I’d need something stronger than spring water if I was going up there.’

      Casey smiled at Alfie, who gave her a discreet wink: another indiscretion which didn’t go unnoticed by Vaughn. The lights went down and the spot went up as the master of ceremonies amused the crowd with his opening set.

      ‘Ladies and gentlemen put your hands together for our first victim … I mean contestant.’

      From the left hand of the stage, Casey watched a nervous looking man walk towards the mike; before he’d had the chance to even get there, three red cards went up one by one, much to the hilarity of the crowd. The master of ceremonies loudly rang the gong, to the annoyance of the comedian as he turned to leave the stage with the sound system playing ‘Hit the Road Jack’.

      Casey roared with laughter, enjoying the atmosphere of the club along with everyone else. As the next anxious contestant walked on the stage, a loud commotion was heard at the back of the club, and pandemonium quickly spread through the audience. The clubbers started to scream and run towards the emergency exit as a handful of men came charging in, brandishing various weapons. A slap to the side of Casey’s head sent her flying backwards off her chair. She stood up to run but her path was blocked by a small fat man, who grabbed her and tried to drag her towards the back room – but his grip wasn’t tight enough and he let go, giving Casey the opportunity to run through a door marked ‘Staff Only’.

      The tallest of the men jumped on top of Alfie and yelled angrily as another grabbed hold of his hair, bringing down a cosh and smashing it into his face; it took Vaughn only a nanosecond and a resigned sigh to get into action.

      ‘Lock the fucking doors!’ Vaughn boomed out his order, simultaneously smashing the bottle of red on the side of the table, and lunged across to the man who was holding a dazed Alfie in a neck lock.

      Vaughn drove the jagged bottle into the man’s face, not as hard as he could, unwilling to do more than was necessary. The man fell to the floor, releasing Alfie as he dropped on his knees.

      Vaughn stepped back, not wanting to continue with the violence now all Alfie’s men had run to step in to get things under control. Managing to recover, Alfie bellowed loudly as his foot pounded a dark-haired man on the floor.

      ‘You motherfucking cunt. Who sent you?’

      The man didn’t answer and Alfie bent down, grabbing hold of the man’s arm and twisting it round as the bone threatened to snap at the shoulder.

      ‘You’ve got some brass fucking neck coming into my fucking club. Who sent you?’

      ‘Bellingham.’

      ‘Bellingham?’

      ‘Jake’s uncle, he’s a face from East Ham – he heard what you did to his nephew.’

      Alfie would’ve laughed if his face hadn’t been hurting so much and his front veneer wasn’t broken. He’d been shitting himself when the men came in; he’d thought it was the Russians after the mess-up with the heroin last month, or even the Davidson brothers from Stratford, who were fucked off with him over the fake credit cards he’d been selling on their turf. But Jake’s uncle? It was fucking laughable.

      ‘Give Bellingham a message; tell him Alfie Jennings says his nephew’s a useless cunt and if he ever sends his men to my patch again, I’ll come looking for him and he won’t be as lucky as his nephew was.’

      Alfie paused whilst he touched his nose, wincing at the pain. He turned his attention back to the man. ‘I want you to take him something back for me.’

      Alfie put his hand into his back pocket and pulled out the pliers he always carried. He nodded to two of his men who came forward and pulled the man up from the fall. One held him up and the other prised open his mouth, leaving Alfie to teach him a lesson the Jennings way. ‘Now say “ah”.’

      As Vaughn turned away from the violence, a thought struck him.

       Where’s Casey?

      Casey ran through the back room hoping to find a way out. The exit door was locked but there was another door slightly ajar, and she could see a flight of stairs behind it. Rather than stay in the back room or head back into the chaos, she decided it’d be safer to head up the stairs.

      At the top, Casey saw crates of wine and boxes stacked up neatly against the wall. She walked cautiously down the corridor hoping to find one of the doors open and a room she could wait in. The first door she tried was locked but the second opened and led to a storeroom full of large boxes. Almost unconsciously, Casey continued to look around. There were televisions, computers, Blu-ray players, iPods and iPhones, all boxed, plus a huge selection of Romeo y Julieta cigars.

      There was a door at the back and Casey, letting her more inquisitive side take over, quickly opened it to see what was behind it. It was a tiny bathroom.

      About to walk out of the storeroom, Casey heard voices coming down the corridor. She felt panic rise within her and she stayed motionless and waited for the voices to go past.

      The voices didn’t pass. Casey could hear them directly on the other side of the door. She saw the handle turning and immediately crouched down behind the largest box, hoping whoever it was wasn’t coming in to take the plasma TV she’d just hidden behind.

      The voices Casey heard were foreign. One belonged to a man and the other was female. Casey peeked around the box. She got a glimpse of the man, and saw that there were two women with him, not one as she first thought.

      She continued to watch, terrified she might make a noise. She saw the man push one of the women hard in the back as he opened the door to the bathroom. The woman let out a tiny squeal and was given another shove to stop her cry. Casey felt as if she should be doing something but she didn’t know what, so she stayed hidden and watched as the man leaned on the doorway of the bathroom, not letting the women have any privacy as they used the toilet.

      Crouching behind the box, Casey noticed the women were dressed in tracksuit bottoms and thin short-sleeved tops and their feet were bare. As they were coming out of the bathroom, the light was bright enough for her to see the smaller woman’s arm was covered in bruising and marks. The man opened the door to the storeroom, leading the women out behind him. Casey listened to the footsteps disappearing down the corridor.

      In the darkness of the tiny storeroom