In the Blood [ON HOLD]

"Which One"

Why did already long days only ever get longer?

Remi pondered this as he pulled up at Sang. Grimacing slightly, he realized he still hated the name regardless of Leon's arguments about branding.

He killed the engine, then sat back in the Porsche's seat, closing his eyes. The meeting with Dimitri had been tedious, if interesting, and after that he'd spent the day running around town making sure everything else was moving smoothly.

A few hiccups had made themselves known, but nothing that hadn't been smoothed over with cash in the right hand or the right amount of leverage applied with just the right amount of pressure. 

He finally opened his eyes with a sigh and got out of the car. The club was a new acquisition, free of any illicit activity. It had a neat little turnover of clean cash, and Remi preferred to keep it that way, though the staff were his usual kind of people.

Sure he knew the manager was dealing a little coke on the side, but what did it matter? All that did was lure in silly, rich bastards too eager to spend mommy and daddy's money to stop and think. They spent, and then spent some more, and Remi was free and clear of the dirty details, which worked well for him in this part of town.

He punched his code into the electronic lock and slipped into the dark backrooms of the club. Music pounded through the walls, making the building shiver. The dim light was enough for him to see by as he wove through stacks of boxes until he reached another door.

No one seemed to notice as he stepped out into the main portion of the club. They barely glanced his way as he cut through them, making his way to the manager's office on the other side of the room. A vaguely familiar woman in a red dress brushed past him, but he didn't bother to try and place why she seemed familiar.

Mostly all he wanted to do was wrap whatever this problem was up in a neat little bow, then go home and sleep for a solid twelve hours.

The likelihood of that happening dropped down to subzero when he rapped once on a door marked "Private". It opened, and all he could do was blink wearily at the sight that greeted him.

Charlie stood with her back against the adjacent wall, arms crossed over her chest, narrowed eyes drilling into one of the bouncers.

It felt like forever before that killer gaze shifted to him, and she grimaced lightly. Pushing herself off the wall, she gestured to the two other men in the room. "Tell them you gave me your goddamn credit card so that I can leave before Jazira starts to freak out. Because trust me, that is not something you want to see."

Remi was suddenly caught halfway between volcanic anger and the desire to burst out laughing. He stepped fully into the manager's office, quickly shutting the door behind him.

He swept his gaze around the little tableau again, trying to decipher what exactly the problem was that Kevin had mentioned on the phone. After a moment of staring first at his credit card on the manager's desk, then at the red finger marks on Charlie's arms, understanding snapped into place.

With another deep sigh in an attempt to keep himself from yawning, he stepped forward, snatching the card off the table.

"Sir, when we saw the name on the card..." The manager trailed off when Remi just turned and handed the card back to Charlie.

She took it, then sent a poisonous smile to the bouncer behind Remi. He turned slightly to find the man had turned a pasty shade of white, making the prison tattoos on his neck stand out lividly. Turning back to Charlie, he frowned at the red marks on her arms.

Violent temper went from a simmer to a full on boil as he gently grabbed her wrist, extending her arm to get a better look at what he knew would turn into bruises by tomorrow. Charlie was looking up at him, her expression halfway between curious and concerned.