Stefan (The Marquette Family Book Three) (8 page)

He fell silent. She swiveled his chair around when he turned away. “You heard what, Chez? Spit it out.”

“I heard he’s looking to expand over this way.”

“Who is he?”

“Marcus Colby. He’s real bad news, Licia. Don’t get mixed up with him. If he’s picked out this club, try to change his mind because people end up disappearing. The police haven’t been able to pin anything on him.”

She swore. “This isn’t some lame TV show. I’m not going in for all that mess. I just want to enjoy running the club. That’s all.”

He stood. “Yeah, well it don’t always work that way. You want to do your thing, and other people want to take it or use you with it. That’s how the world works.”

Talicia ran a hand across her forehead. A sharp pain arrowed up her back and settled somewhere between her shoulder blades. She recognized it as stress but couldn’t work it out no matter how hard she tried. Why couldn’t people leave her and her brother alone? Why did they keep after them? All her life she had to fight. Why couldn’t it be over, damn it?

If it was over, I guess I’d be dead.

No, she had to keep fighting and find a way to get out of this situation. She had always found a way in the past, and she would again. No matter what.

Chapter Eight

Two weeks later…

Stefan smiled and touched the back of one of his guests’ chair as he leaned toward the group. “Hello, beautiful ladies. I hope your night is going well this evening.”

The women tittered and squirmed in their seats, almost cooing at his attention. A strawberry blonde spoke up first. “We’re great, Stefan, now that you and Damen are here, but we don’t know what we want to order. Can you recommend anything?”

He touched his chest. “I’m flattered, and of course. My brother and I are here to serve you. We have the roasted chicken over Florentine rice, and of course, there’s the duck. Let me assure you it is broiled to perfection. You will be satisfied.”

Damen chimed in, oozing charm but not as flirtatious as he was before he met and married Heaven. If anything, Stefan noticed the women responded to him more. They adored the reserved aura of the nerd that was his middle brother. Stefan bet the women thought Damen was awkward and nervous around women. He knew better. Heaven was his heart and soul, and Damen would do nothing to betray her.

“I want the duck, Stefan,” one of the ladies called out.

“The chicken, Damen,” another responded.

Each seemed to find satisfaction in speaking their names. He and Damen didn’t serve together normally, but this was a very large group, and they had reserved one of the upper dining rooms for their event. Stefan and Damen handled the initial greeting and order taking, and then another couple of servers would take over.

A little later on, Tiffany, one of the waitresses approached him, her face red with rage. “Stefan, that…that…”

“Guest,” he supplied firmly but gently.

She grumbled, balling her fists at her sides. “Guest! That woman at table three is demanding you bring her food and not me. She says I’m too rude. Can you believe it?”

Several pairs of eyes swung Tiffany’s way, all seeming to agree with what Stefan knew. Tiffany hung onto her job by a hair. Creed had come close to firing her on several occasions.

“Girl, please,” Shada said, plating dirty rice with beef another customer had ordered. “You define rudeness. You should be glad you haven’t been thrown out on your ass by now. Stefan’s spoken up for you too many times.”

Tiffany grumbled but ignored Shada’s comment. “Stefan, it’s against the rules for us to hand over our tables unless it’s an emergency. Can’t you tell her that?”

Stefan strode to the kitchen door and peered through the porthole window. “That’s a congressman’s wife, Tiff. We give them special treatment. I’ll go.”

She wailed.

“Oh shut up, stupid,” Shada snapped. “If you’re worried about Stefan taking your tip, ask him for it. Damn! And get out of my kitchen.”

“It’s not your kitchen,” Tiffany shot back.

“Ladies.” Stefan cast his voice low, but the emphasis sealed both of their lips. “Give me the order.”

Tiffany gestured in silence to the tray waiting, and he hefted it into his arms, resting the back of the tray against his forearm. He didn’t need a server to deliver the food as he could handle the weight.

Stefan reached the table and greeted the elderly woman with a smile. “Good evening, ma’am. I have your order right here.”

“Oh, Stefan.” She waved a hand at him. “Don’t you ma’am, me. I’m not that old.”

She was, but he didn’t argue. He set a dish of fresh spinach with artichoke and cherry tomatoes in front of her and prepared to join it with the house soup when a freight train hit him. Stefan, because of his strength and size, managed to stay on his feet. However, the unexpected hit unsettled his tray and sent it flying. Glasses shattered on the floor, food stained the pristine white tablecloths. Guests cried out in alarm.

Stefan looked down at his chest to find the attacker wrapped around his middle sobbing and shaking. Fear crept up his spine, and he forgot about the guests as he tried to get Tyjon to let go so he could question him. This wasn’t just dramatics, and he was sure of it.

“Ty, let go.” Stefan tugged, but Tyjon’s arms had locked on his waist. “What’s going on? Why are you upset?”

“What’s the meaning of this?” Creed’s voice boomed. Damen snapped his fingers, and several waiters appeared to clean up the mess. As Damen apologized and soothed several guests, Creed reached a large hand toward the back of Tyjon’s shirt. Stefan warded him off.

“I’ve got him. We’ll go to my office.” Stefan maneuvered Tyjon through the dining room toward the kitchen, and whispering broke out all around them. Anyone with eyes could see the smaller man, dressed in electric blue, was gay, and he clung to Stefan like a second skin. What they might not see was that Tyjon was still crying and shaking hard.

Duke held the kitchen door open for them, but his face was impassive. Jerome eyed him beside the door with a question in his gaze. Stefan sighed. “Stay close.”

Jerome nodded and followed them into the kitchen, down the hall, and into his office. Stefan had scarcely gotten the door shut before Creed barreled in, followed by Damen. He realized he couldn’t demand they leave so he moved Tyjon to the couch and forced him to sit down.

“Ty, what’s going on? Why are you so upset?” He feared mentioning Talicia’s name, but he strained to hear she was okay.

“Who is this man?” Creed demanded, “and why the hell is he disrupting Marquette’s?”

Stefan didn’t answer. He waited for Tyjon to suck in a breath. When Stefan’s nerves were drawn to a breaking point, Tyjon spoke. “It’s Licia.”

Stefan surged to his feet. “What about her?”

“She’s…” He started sobbing again.

Coldness clutched at Stefan’s chest. He grabbed Tyjon by his arms and shook him so hard, his head flopped around. Damen was the one who pried him loose. “Let the man speak, Stefan.”

“You’d better start talking now, Ty,” Stefan threatened. He felt his brothers looking at him as if they didn’t know who he was.

“I can’t find her, and the club is a mess. Someone got in there and tore it up. There’s blood and—”

Stefan broke for the door at a run. He heard his brothers asking what club Tyjon was talking about and what it had to do with Stefan, but he paid them no attention. Tyjon couldn’t find Talicia? She never left her brother
, ever.
While they spoke of the trip together, she had been putting him off, telling him she wasn’t sure about leaving at that time. He’d wondered if it had to with Tyjon, but now he wondered. Was it something else?

On the street, Stefan paced, waiting for Jerome to bring the car. He lost it and started to run around to the back parking lot, but Jerome screeched to stop in front of him. He jumped in and slammed the door. “Forget the lights, Jerome. I want to be there now!”

Jerome’s hands gripped the steering wheel. “This sounds like a dangerous situation, Stefan, and we don’t know all the facts. Let me drop you somewhere safe and assess it first.”

Stefan eyed him. “You know my answer to that.”

“If her brother doesn’t know where she is, she might be in hiding.”

“She wouldn’t leave him, not voluntarily.”

Jerome didn’t argue, and Stefan knew he still didn’t agreed with Stefan going to the club, but he didn’t care. No one knew Talicia like he knew her. She wasn’t as strong as she appeared. If she had a burden that had become too much for her to handle,
he
would find a way deal with it. Whether she liked it or not.

At the start of the narrow street where the club was located, police cars blocked access. Jerome stopped the car, and Stefan jumped out to head to the nearest officer. The man held up a hand. “Sorry, sir, this area’s off limits for the time being.”

Stefan strained to see past him. “Someone important to me owns a club right there, and I was told it was vandalized. I need to make sure she’s okay.”

“This is an active crime scene,” the officer snapped. “No access, period. I don’t care who you are.”

Stefan felt agitated enough to consider ordering Jerome to go through this bastard, but he tried to think rationally. Even if they did get past him, there were a whole slew of other officers, who probably wouldn’t think twice about shooting them down. He wouldn’t do Talicia any good dead.

A small crowd of onlookers had gathered. Lights flashed from the police cars, and it seemed as if a million cars were in gridlock on the road. Two ambulances were parked near the entrance to the club, loading sheet-covered bodies, and Stefan’s heart locked in his chest. He tried the officer again.

“At least tell me if you’ve found Talicia Clay. She’s the owner of the club. Tell me she’s not in one of those ambulances.”

The officer remained stone-faced, and Stefan clenched his fist. A hand dropped onto his shoulder, and he was thrust aside. He looked over his shoulder to find Damen with his cell phone to his ear.

“Hey, chief, it’s Damen Marquette. Listen, I have a favor to ask.”

His brother chuckled at something the chief said. After a short exchange of words, he disconnected the call and folded his arms over his chest, looking smug. Stefan frowned at him, but before he could question his brother, another officer jogged over.

“Damen Marquette?” the officer asked.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Damen said.

“Let them through.”

Damen’s grin grew bigger, and he slapped Stefan on the back to propel him forward. Stefan dismissed his questions. All he cared about was that they were going to be allowed into the club. As soon as he hit the door, he had trouble drawing a breath. The damage was much worse than he had thought.

From the amount of glass on the floor, it seemed like every bottle of alcohol and the glasses were smashed. Chairs and tables were destroyed. The DJ booth’s glass was cracked, and the security panel leading to Talicia’s office hung on wires. Just as Tyjon said, blood mingled amid the glass shards, and someone’s red handprint smeared the side of the bar. How could this have happened so quickly? He’d been here two weeks ago. Everything had been fine.

Crackling sounded behind him, and Stefan turned. Both his brothers entered the bar looking around. Their bodyguards were steps ahead of them, tense and ready for anything. Damen’s astute gaze seemed to register every detail, but Creed’s was filled with rage.

“Want to tell me what’s going on, Stefan?” Creed asked.

“I guess I have no choice,” Stefan said. “Somewhere amid this chaos, my wife disappeared.”

“Wife!” Both his brothers shouted at the same time, and even Jerome appeared taken aback.

“Yes, Talicia is my wife. She’s part owner of this club, and I need to find her.”

“You’re not just calling her that for the hell of it, are you?” Damen asked. “You married her?”

“Yes,” he said again, without explanation.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Creed yelled. “You married someone you met in a club,
here?
”

“Creed, careful,” Damen said.

“Bullshit, I’ll be careful. He kept it a secret because he knew we wouldn’t go for it. What were you thinking, Stefan? You wanted to be like us. You wanted a black woman because Damen and me have one? Fine, but you don’t marry her!”

Stefan walked toward the stairs leading to the office. “For the record, I married Talicia long before Heaven appeared.”

He didn’t have to turn around to know both his brothers stood in shock. Instead, he started up the stairs, attention fully on what he would find when he reached the office. A shoe lay in the middle of the floor. The couch had been shredded with a knife, the equipment broken.

One of the desk drawers looked like it had been tampered with and abandoned. The drawer required just a little muscle to wrench it open. Stefan lost it when he found Talicia’s purse inside, wallet and keys intact.

“Where is she?” he whispered.

“Call her,” Damen said, walking into office.

Stefan slapped his forehead. He should have thought of that. Talicia kept her phone with her at all times. He speed-dialed her, but the call went to voicemail right away.

“What’s her number?” Damen asked.

Stefan told him. He paced as Damen dialed a series of numbers on his own phone. While he listened, his gaze darted about the room. Stefan paced. He wanted to get out of there and check her apartment. He started to leave, but Jerome anticipated him.

“I got someone I trust to drive over to her apartment.” He shook his head. “No one there. The good news is it doesn’t look like it’s been broken into.”

Stefan roared. “Then I need to get out on the street! She could be anywhere.”

Damen swung to face the officer that had followed them up. “Forensics been here yet?”

“No, sir,” the young man who looked like a rookie said. “Not too long since it happened. The detective in charge is pissed the chief let you guys in. You’re tramping all over the evidence.”

“Don’t worry. I got it.” Damen tapped his head. Stefan recalled his brother had obtained a degree in forensics for no other reason than it seemed interesting at the time. He turned to Stefan. “Her phone is close. If she’s with it, she hasn’t left the building.”

“We’ve searched the building,” the officer said. “And the back alley. No one on the premises except us.”