The Razor's Edge

by David Leadbeater

  THE RAZOR'S EDGE

  (THE DISAVOWED #1)

  BY

  DAVID LEADBEATER

  Copyright © 2013 by David Leadbeater

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher/author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to the three best people in my life – my two daughters, Keira and Megan, and my wife Erica.

  Love you to the stars and back.

  Other books by David Leadbeater:

  The Matt Drake Series

  The Bones of Odin (Matt Drake #1)

  The Blood King Conspiracy (Matt Drake #2)

  The Gates of Hell (Matt Drake 3)

  The Tomb of the Gods (Matt Drake #4)

  Brothers in Arms (Matt Drake #5)

  The Chosen Few Series

  Chosen (The Chosen Few trilogy #1)

  Short Stories

  Walking with Ghosts (A short story)

  Connect with David on Twitter - dleadbeater2011

  Visit David’s NEW website – davidleadbeater.com

  Follow David’s Blog - http://davidleadbeaternovels.blogspot.co.uk/

  All helpful, genuine comments are welcome. I would love to hear from you.

  davidleadbeater2011@hotmail.co.uk

  Contents

  Copyright

  DEDICATION

  Other books by David Leadbeater:

  Connect with David

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  1

  Anna Borstein pushed through the side door of the rather artistically named gentleman’s club, Netherworld, a little later than usual. Her son, Patryk, clung to her hand as he always did in this place, reversing the roles they played when she dropped him off at school. They passed through the grungy, rust-spotted, but necessarily beefy door, and entered the dingy, overripe interior. Joey, the bouncer she thought was sweet on her, looked up.

  “You good tonight, Anna?”

  She smiled at him, and squeezed her little boy’s hand. “We good tonight, Patryk? How’s our day been?”

  Patryk clutched his 3DS and a flowery bouquet of comic books. “We had a test in school.” He sounded glum and stopped talking, as if that explained everything.

  “Don’t worry, little man.” Joey squeezed past and led them to the dressing rooms, not a club requirement but something the courteous club bouncer always insisted on. He paused at the door. “Quiet night.” He jerked his head in the direction of the bar area and, immediately, the sounds she’d tried to block out intruded.

  Rock music. Beer and spirit induced whooping. Men’s raised voices. The repetition of the massively underused adage, ‘Only in Vegas, Baby’! And, closer, a woman’s voice reaching out from a private room, telling her client, for the tenth time no doubt, that the statement “no hands” meant no fuckin’ hands, asshole. Joey shook his head.

  “Gotta go. Later, Anna.”

  “Sure, Joey.”

  Anna placed a protective hand on her son’s head and walked into the dressing room. A dozen scenes of disarray met her eyes. They had a large place compared to most clubs in the area, but a larger place only really meant one thing – a larger mess. Anna steered Patryk through a pile of discarded costumes studded with sequins; tables laden with women’s handbags, smart phones, piled up jackets and changes of clothes, and said hi to three dancers she vaguely knew – the staff here, understandably, changed almost daily.

  Except for Monika and herself that was. Her best friend, Monika Sobieski, had been a Netherworld regular for eighteen months now. She was almost ready to get out and move to Miami. Almost. The wages and tips, squirreled away, were almost enough to bring her dreams within reach – of relocating and starting a new life with her boy, Artur; of putting him through school and attending a full-time college herself; of fulfilling her dream to study history. Monika was practical. She saw the club and its necessary vices as a means to an end. Anna recognised her friend’s vision early on, and now followed the same game plan. The club itself was relatively safe. The security was, essentially, top notch. The management were respectful. It could be a lot worse.

  Anna passed the last of the dressing tables and entered a little alcove at the back of the room. Monika and Artur were already there.

  “Honey!” Monika gave her a tight hug. Artur grinned at Patryk. They were both six years old.

  “I got the new Donkey Kong game.” He nodded at Patryk’s 3DS. “You wanna play?”

  Patryk jumped into a chair next to his friend. The kids shared the 3DS and the games. It was another way of saving money and teaching values. Anna steered Monika into a corner.

  “I can’t wait to get him away from this damn place. Every time we come here I feel him . . . shrink.”

  “Six more months.” Monika squeezed her friend’s hand. “For you, honey. Maybe less.”

  Lately, Anna had been getting suspicious. “If that were true, you’d have moved down to Miami already. Wouldn’t you?”

  Monika’s eyes slid away to take in the boys. “They’re best friends. So are we.”

  “Stop acting dense. Listen—” Anna took hold of her friend’s shoulders. “Listen to me, Monika. You’ve done your time. You’ve paid your goddamn dues, girl. If you have enough money saved then go . . . go down to friggin’ Miami. We’ll follow as soon as we can.”

  “I don’t.”

  “So you’re not waiting for us?”

  “Honey, I’m not stupid. I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Think of Artur.”

  “I am thinking of Artur. Don’t preach at me. You think I enjoy all the pawing, the slavering, and the sweat that they leave on me? Sometimes I feel like they’re fucking eating me alive. Damn.”

  Anna let go of her friend. She could push. Most likely she could push hard enough to break Monika down and force her to admit that she was lying. But a slither of selfishness made her stop. She didn’t want to be on her own in Vegas. She didn’t want to see her best friend leave. And in any case, Monika was clever and streetwise enough to make her own decisions.

  Her guilt mostly assuaged, Anna glanced up at the wall clock. “I’m on in twenty. Better go get changed.”

  Monika took a breath. “Yup. Time to get the game face on, hon. See you out there.”

  They both took a last look at their boys, drinking in the innocence, the high spirits, the miracle that was their children and the one thing they would go to any lengths for, and then quietly moved away.

  *

  Netherworld was the largest gentleman’s club in the Fremont Street area, boasting multiple stages, cage dancing, a plethora of gaming tables, cheap alcohol and – a rare thing in the seedy world of strip clubs – trustworthiness. At Netherworld, a man could use his credit card to withdraw money without wondering if his details were being cloned by the club’s owners. He could re
ceive a lap dance without worrying that his face might appear on the Internet. He could even hire a girl to talk to for as long as he wanted – payment dependant – without being told to zip up his pants and let the next guy take his turn.

  Respectability amidst the sleaze. It should have been Netherworld’s slogan.

  Anna strutted from the dimness of backstage into the bright lights and frenzied environment of the bar area, clad in bright red leather. Her boots were laced up above her knee, but could be ripped away in two seconds using a Velcro strip. She wore a zipped-up basque, studded with gleaming diamantés, a thong stitched with a heart design and a chunky pair of sparkly earrings that slapped her face every time she moved. It was all covered by a short, diaphanous white chemise. The noise level rose as soon as she stepped through the curtains, and all eyes turned her way – like a pack of wild animals attracted to fresh meat. Patrons at one of the louder tables began to bang their glasses repeatedly on the sticky surface until Joey drifted over and suggested they keep it down.

  Anna gripped the pole with a pair of black leather driving gloves, the one thing she’d found over the last twelve months that helped maintain her grip on the sometimes slick metal. A pole can become greasy for many reasons, from a previous dancer using oils in her hair, to the lack of transferred body heat or room humidity. Anna’s gloves had a leather palm grip which she now utilised to seize the shiny metal surface and perform a series of twirls. As she snapped forward after every turn, she caught a glimpse of Monika performing on the stage opposite, the raven-haired dancer attracting a loyal crowd as always. The regulars would miss Monika when she finally moved on, but they would miss Anna too.

  A man hung over the edge of the stage, waving a stack of green bills and wiping beer from his moustache. His friend bayed from the seat to his left. The rest of their party dug in their wallets as Anna approached, desperate to be parted from their dough. Anna saw her future take a step closer as she crouched down close enough to let the first man thrust a bill down the side of her thong.

  “Wow,” she said in a breathy voice. “Aren’t you a handsome one?”

  The man downed the rest of his beer; no doubt certain she was addressing him, and shoved another bill at her. As she crouched and played the crowd, Anna stayed in rhythm, moving her body in time to the beat of the music. Then she broke away, leaping to her feet and spinning to face the cheering patrons, preparing to raise their blood pressure by removing her chemise, when a commotion by the doors caught her attention.

  The bouncers were shouting and backing away. This was highly unusual in itself. In twelve months, Anna had never seen a situation where one of the musclemen needed to raise their voices in the club, and she could never, ever have imagined a scenario where they backed off.

  She saw Joey drifting over, and felt an unaccountable urge to shout at him, to make him stay back.

  Then hell truly came to Netherworld in the form of a dozen armed men showing an extreme abundance of ill intent. Anna saw two men with shotguns an instant before they fired their weapons into the club's rafters. Two more pushed past the bouncers and discharged their weapons into the bar. The shots exploded against the arrayed pyramids of glass bottles, sending showers of liquid and shards of glass shooting in all directions. Both barmen dived for cover.

  Anna saw the bouncers raise their hands. A white-hot streak of terror flashed through her.

  Patryk!

  She turned, eyes straying for one brief second across to Monika. Her friend was searching for a direct way off the stage; her bra, stockings and thong bristling with so many dollar bills it gave her the appearance of being armoured by money. Anna understood her thinking. If she went backstage now, it would take her far longer to work her way round to Artur.

  Anna resolved to get both the boys. They could wait for Monika and, hopefully, leave by the side door. In any event, that was the closest way out. The fire exits were scattered around the club walls. Her attention was momentarily drawn to the man below her grabbing at her legs. With a snarl of disgust she kicked out, striking him in the nose, and turned away as another volley of shots rang out. Anna ducked and ran as pieces of the false ceiling crashed around her. Glass-framed photographs of mild erotica were smashed and fell from their perches on the walls. The spotlights were blasted out in a shower of sparks. These men were targeting the club itself, not the patrons. Were they trying to put Netherworld out of business?

  Anna heard female screams behind her as she leapt off the stage, but didn’t have time to stop and evaluate further. Her life was her boy. Her purpose was his safety. She hit the floor running and slammed through the door that led to the back. She heard Joey shout her name, but ignored him. She burst through the dressing room door, saw the scared faces of half a dozen dancers, and ran straight past them.

  “Get out!” she shouted. “Now!”

  Patryk was already on his feet, facing her. Artur was by his side, clutching the 3DS and craning his neck, looking for his mother. Anna flew at them and fell to her knees.

  “Hurry,” she said, careful to keep the panic from her voice. “Your mom’s on her way, Artur. Said we should meet her outside.”

  She took hold of Patryk’s hand. Some of the other girls were lingering, unsure. Others were sobbing. Anna didn’t have time to help them. She pulled Patryk past them, making sure Artur was holding her son’s hand. She heard more gunshots over the incessant beat of the rock track that was blaring out. Again she heard a woman scream, and then another.

  What the hell is going on?

  Ever conscious of the psychological effects her job might have on her son, Anna plucked a coat from the rack and threw it around her body. Something hung heavy in one of the pockets. Anna plucked the item out – a plastic bottle full of pills. Anna took no chances, and threw the bottle away. She paused at the door and sneaked a glance out. The corridor was empty, but she would have to be quick. She stepped out.

  Almost immediately the door that led to the bar burst open and a man stepped through. He waved a gun at her.

  “You look worth more than a few bucks. Stay right there, pretty.”

  Anna used her stiffened arms to herd Patryk behind her and Artur behind him, backing up in the direction of the side exit. They could be out on the street in seconds. She just needed . . .

  “I said, stay there!” The man fixed her in his sights, the cruel set of his lips showing that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. “Now. . .”

  A body crashed into him from behind. Joey tackled the man around the waist, his eyes seeking Anna’s even as they fell in a tangle to the ground.

  “Run, Anna! Run!”

  The gun pumped, firing three muffled shots. Joey’s body jerked three times. Anna screamed. “No!”

  Joey’s eyes clouded but they still beseeched her. He whispered, “Save yourself,” as he forced all his weight and bulk onto the man beneath him.

  Anna thought, Save myself. From what? Then she gripped one of the boys under each arm and literally stormed the exit door. Her steps faltered just once.

  Monika. Please, please be okay. . .

  She slammed through the metal door, cringing as it smashed back into the building, hinges screeching. Immediately the warm night air assailed her senses, along with the smells and sounds of nearby Fremont Street and its surrounds. The far-off wails of sirens were music to her ears.

  But still too far away.

  Anna hated herself, but she pulled the side door closed, then, still holding Patryk and Artur, began to make her way toward the front of the building. The rear was enclosed by an unscaleable, ten foot high, brick wall topped with razor wire. But the shadows and dumpsters that lurked along the side wall were more than enough to conceal her careful movement.

  She took a moment to shush the boys with a finger to her lips. Patryk nodded, but Artur’s eyes had gone huge and he was looking around wildly, searching for his mom.

  “Hear the sirens?” Anna whispered frantically. “The cops will be here soon. They’re comi
ng.”

  She didn’t imagine they’d send the force’s finest to a strip club, but any form of law enforcement was better than none. Artur’s panic receded a little. Anna let go of Patryk’s hand, urging him to stay put, and crept forward. She had to see what was happening.

  The sirens were still some way off. Anna crabbed further forward until she could see the street in front of the club, and peered out from the shadows. The dumpster to her left stank of rotting vegetables, diesel oil and worse. She sincerely hoped the scratching noises emanating from it were rats. She put a hand down for balance, the rough concrete harsh on her fingertips.

  An enormous SUV had been parked halfway across the sidewalk outside the main entrance to the club, its doors stood wide open. Activity and the screams of frightened women surrounded it. Anna inched forward another few feet to see what was happening.

  Men with guns manhandled the club’s dancers, pushing them towards the SUV. Anna counted four dancers being forced inside before the appearance of the fifth, Monika, sent her heart plummeting to her toes. Instinct took over, and in a second she was on her feet, moving toward the SUV and her friend. The long coat dragged across the floor as she walked.

  After five feet, she stopped and asked herself what the hell she was doing.

  She turned. The big, frightened eyes of both boys shone in the darkness. The choices she was being offered were damnation, death or torturous guilt. But she could never leave them alone. Carefully, she padded her way back into the shadows, watching the men with guns, watching her best friend fight as she was forced into the dark car, and listening as the sirens wailed and never seemed to get any closer.

  *

  The first cop she managed to isolate regarded her with a lazy, detached eye. She spent a few minutes going through her story whilst he studied the place where the V of her coat met her cleavage.