Chapter Two

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Aiden was brash, ruthless, maybe even a little crazy. But he was no fool. He knew there would be an ambush waiting for him on the top floor. As such, he pressed himself into the corner of the elevator, concealing himself as best he could just in case The Club got trigger happy when the doors opened.

He prepared himself for an inrush of bullets when the elevator finally reached the top floor and the doors glided open.

But nothing happened.

Instead a pair of men rushed into the elevator, pistols swinging around to the corners. One turned to find Aiden, who immediately grasped the pistol in his face and aimed it away from himself. At the same time, he shot the man with his own pistol and moved on to the next threat. The second man had turned his back to Aiden when first entering the elevator and so was at a disadvantage for a split second while Aiden dispatched his partner. But he was quick enough on the uptake to catch Aiden's gun as Aiden had done to the first guard. Both struggled violently against each other until Aiden threw himself forward and head-butted the man, throwing him backwards. That gave Aiden enough time to get a shot off. He only needed one.

Stepping over the prone bodies, Aiden exited the elevator, thinking himself in the clear for the moment. He was wrong.

As soon as his foot hit the hardwood floor, a multitude of South Club cronies rose from cover around the room. Aiden was good at instantly sizing up a situation; counting threats, calculating odds. There were at least twenty men by his cursory count, all with fully automatic weapons trained on him.

"Shit."

"Drop it!" A man in the middle of the room shouted. "You can't fight your way out of this one."

Aiden wasn't a fool and neither was he suicidal. Antagonizing a group like that would only end up getting him killed. Even if he dove for what little cover there was, so many bullets would go flying that he was bound to get hit. Even if he did make it behind something, then what? He couldn't take on that many men with a single pistol from such an indefensible location. At most, he figured his odds at taking out half of them, but clearly that would get him nowhere.

He did the only thing he could.

Aiden held his hands up in surrender, letting his gun hang loose around his finger. The men around the room didn't seem to trust his gesture and held steady, seemingly waiting for Aiden to turn on them the way they had seen him do to countless others.

"Stop standing there, you idiots, go get him!" the same man ordered.

A few came forward at his command. When Aiden made no move to stop them, one man roughly yanked the gun from Aiden's hand, then kicked him in the back of his knee. Aiden fell with a grunt. Emboldened, the man forced Aiden's hands behind his back and zip-tied them together.

At that moment, Aiden heard the sound of footsteps. And a cane. He looked up to see Lucky Quinn striding toward him.

"Mr. Pearce. How nice of you to join us," Quinn said in his weaselly voice.

Aiden sneered in return. His rage was building within him again.

"I'm curious," Quinn continued, "what your plan was. You were just going to waltz in here and take on the entire South Club single-handed? Armed with nothing more than pistol? I'm not sure if that's brave or just stupid. Either way, you've caused me too much trouble and cost me too much money to let you get away with it. I suppose I should really be thanking you. You've saved me the trouble of having to track you down."

Throughout Quinn's monologue, Aiden's lip kept curling and he clenched and unclenched his jaw in an effort to subdue his fury.

"I'm sure you'd like to put a bullet through my head, wouldn't you?" Lucky Quinn stated nonchalantly, picking up on Aiden's cues. "Well you'd better get in line. Many people in this city want me dead. The rest think I'm a hero. What makes you so special? I'll tell you." He leaned in next to Aiden's ear and whispered, "Absolutely nothing."

No longer able to contain himself, Aiden spat, "You're a crook and a murderer."

"And you're a liar and a thief," Quinn retorted. "We could throw names at each other all day, Mr. Pearce. You see, we are the same, you and I. We're both willing to do whatever it takes to remove obstacles in our way. The difference is, I have all the power."

"I will kill you."

"Naivety. I used to possess that as well. I was lucky enough to outgrow it before it got me killed. It doesn't seem that you will have the same luxury." Lucky Quinn turned to leave, waving his free hand over his head and announcing to the room, "You know what to do with him, boys."

Aiden didn't have time to think about what was going to happen next. If he did, he would have thought for sure that he was going to die. That he had rushed in blindly and would pay the ultimate price for it. That Lena would never get justice. And that his body would most likely be displayed as a warning to others with vendettas against Dermot "Lucky" Quinn.

But before he could form the thoughts in his head, a man to his left brought the butt of a pistol across his face and Aiden knew no more.

~~~

"Aiden? Aiden can you hear me?" Clara sat facing the illuminated computer screen before her. She and Kenney had both stayed behind in the Bunker while Aiden went to settle his dispute with Lucky Quinn. T-Bone had offered to go with him, but Aiden had refused, stating that he had to do it alone. That he couldn't let T-Bone get hurt because of his own personal vendetta.

T-Bone came over to Clara at the sound of her query, resting his hand on the back of her chair. "What's wrong?"

"I can't get through to Aiden."

"I thought the coms were jammed."

"They were. They came back up ten minutes ago and still nothing."

"Well, Aiden does have his hands full at the moment. He's probably just too busy to answer."

"I don't know. This doesn't feel right."

"Well you're tracking his phone aren't you? Where is he right now?"

"Still in the Merlaut." Clara pointed to the monitor which displayed a satellite view of Chicago. In the top corner was a small blinking light indicating Aiden's location. It stood square in the middle of the Merlaut hotel.

"Then we've got nothing to worry ab—"

"Wait," Clara interrupted.

"Now what?" Kenney asked, somewhat exasperated by Clara's excessive worrying.

"It's gone," Clara said, staring, dumbfounded, at the screen.

"What do you mean, it's gone?"

"The signal. It just disappeared." Suddenly in a panic, Clara started typing furiously.

"It can't just disappear." Clara's panic was infectious and T-Bone started the feel his heart climb into his throat. He went back to his station to try his luck at the problem.

"It was right there. And then, nothing. This doesn't make any sense. The only reason that signal would go cold is if Aiden's phone was destroyed. Or he took the battery out. I don't like this, T-Bone. Something has to be wrong," Clara stated, turning to plead her case to T-Bone.

But he didn't need any convincing. He agreed that something about the situation didn't smell right. Rising from his chair, he grabbed his coat from the back of it and started up the steps to the entrance of the Bunker. Pausing on the landing, he called, "You stay here and see if you can figure anything out. I'm heading over there. Maybe I can get a sense of what's happening. Keep me updated."

As he climbed the rest of the stairs, Clara returned to her computer, sending a silent prayer for Aiden's safety.

"What's going on over there?" She quietly asked the screen.

Naturally, it didn't answer.

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