The Auction House Deal: Bought by A Billionaire

The bouncers were just getting ready, taking their places by the door. A line had already started to form when I walked up to one of the bouncers and repeated my questions.

"Did you work here two nights ago?"

The bouncer nodded his head. I slipped another $100 bill into his pocket.

"Did you see a black sedan, dented on the side? A single male driving?"

The bouncer shook his head. "No. Sorry. I usually man the entrance until about midnight, then go inside."

"So no one mans the doors after midnight?"

"Right. If we’re not at capacity, anyone can come in then, but there’s someone right inside the door to make sure no one comes in armed or plastered."

"Who was working the door that night?" I asked. He pointed to the bouncer across from him. "Jimmy," he said.

"Hi Jimmy," I said. passing over the doorway and standing before a well-built, bald-headed man. "Can we talk?"

Jimmy didn’t look too thrilled at my idea, but then Stan, much bigger than Jimmy, shuffled over to us. "Here, Jimmy," I said, handing him $200, "Stan will man your post for you, I just have a couple of questions."

Jimmy eyed Stan, who stared at Jimmy with a steely glance. Putting the money in his pocket, Jimmy snarled, stepped away from the door and let Stan take his place.

"I’m just going to be honest, Jimmy. I’m looking for some answers. My wife here," I showed him a picture of Hannah on my phone, "Hannah, she’s missing. I suspect kidnapped."

"Yeah, I saw her," Jimmy said. "She was with a group of girls, right?"

"Yes," I said, and we both smiled. It was like I had been able to finally break the ice.

"She was here with some girls, then two guys came. At one point, she stepped outside," I told him.

Jimmy shook his head. "I don’t remember that. What time?"

I cued up the surveillance footage that had been emailed to me from the club and looked at the time stamp. "1:16 a.m."

"No, I don’t remember," said Jimmy.

"Watch," I said. Jimmy looked at the screen and saw Hannah being pulled away by the man in black.

"Did it jog your memory?"

He continued to stare at the video of Hannah and her attacker escaping into the night.

"I was inside," Jimmy protested. "People go out and leave for the night all the time. How was I to know?"

"Look Jimmy, I’m not blaming you, but do you recognize the man? Did you see him at the club that night?"

He gave me a face as if I were crazy. "That person covered in black? How was I supposed to tell?"

"Did you notice anyone leave the club around that time?" "No, I... nothing comes to mind."

I took a deep breath. "Maybe if a young woman goes outside alone, check on her next time." I was fed up with the helpless act. Wasn’t a bouncer there to protect the club-goers? Somehow, Hannah’s kidnapper had slipped by two FBI agents, several muscle-bound bouncers, and a few sloshed club-goers. No one seemed to have seen the man who came and went like a shadow.

I scooted by Jimmy, and Stan followed me inside. At the bar, a group of young men and women sat enjoying drinks.

"Let me buy you a round," I said, standing by the bar, giving the group my best welcoming smile. I gave my head a strong shake to the side, indicating Stan should stand off at a distance.

"I really like that dress," I said to one of the girls in a flowered floor-length maxi-dress. "My wife likes those kind of dresses, too." I knew that mentioning my wife would help me break into the conversation and ease any sexual tension.

"Oh," she said and laughed. "What’s her name?" "Hannah," I said. "Do you all come here often?" "All the time," one of the men said while rolling his eyes.

"He’s just looking for new meat. Is your wife here?" asked the woman in the flowered dress.

"Actually, I’m looking for her. Did anyone see her two nights ago?" I held up my phone for them to view her picture.

"Oh, beautiful hair," said another woman.

"I did see her actually," the guy who had rolled his eyes said. "I saw some guy approach her and get blown off. I didn’t even try." One of his buddies laughed and patted his back.

"You’ll find one someday," he said, half-chuckling.

"She was with a bunch of friends," I added. "Then, later, she stepped outside and someone grabbed her."

"What?" said the girl in the flowered dress. "Took her?"

"Yeah, this guy," I played the video, the group clustering around my shoulder.

"That’s horrible," said one of the girls, a disgusted look on her face.

"Please," I resorted to looking desperate. "Do any of you recognize this guy? Did you see anyone in here, maybe dressed in black? Maybe someone leering at her?"

"No," said the girls.

"Sorry, bro," said one of the guys.

"I hope you find your lady," said the eye-roller.

"D*mn," I said under my breath. Everyone had seen Hannah, but not her kidnapper. He had swooped in at just the perfect moment then disappeared like Houdini.

I wasn’t surprised so many people had remembered Hannah. With her long luscious red hair and glittering green eyes, Hannah got noticed in a lot of places. Even since we’d been married, she’d caught the eye of men at restaurants who would offer to buy her a drink when I went to the bathroom. It was one of the reasons I told myself I was so protective of her.

She was not only beautiful, but despite some of the horrible things she had to deal with in her upbringing, her face was open and welcoming, so she seemed approachable. And that’s just what people often did - approached her.

Without a solid lead, I was starting to despair. The music pumped through the speakers and more and more people hit the dance floor. It was hard not to stare at the couples dancing, some of the men making fools of themselves, not sticking to the beat. Most of the women seemed to be having fun, their hair bobbing and swaying.

I would have given anything to be dancing with Hannah, feeling her hips against mine. I loved when she shook her booty, her taught butt jiggling just enough. She was so sexy, and I always felt alive in her arms. Her presence ignited a fire in my body - one I longed to feel again.

Stepping up to the bar on the other side, I ordered a rum and coke. When the bartender came over with the drink, I launched into the same questions I had been asking before. No surprise, he hadn’t seen anything; he was too busy mixing drinks.

I hung around the bar, asking anyone I could approach. I even snuck into the back stockroom, asking the employees if they’d seen Hannah, a black car or the man in black.

Having struck out every time, I motioned to Stan and prepared to leave.

Outside the door, I handed our valet ticket to the man standing by the curb. He was the same man who had parked my car.

"Hey," I walked over to him. Something about him standing on the curb outside the club got me to thinking.

"You said you didn’t see a black car with a dent last night, but did you see this woman?" I flashed him the photo of Hannah.

"No. She’s a beauty, though," he said, and smiled, clearly trying to be friendly, possibly looking for an even bigger tip.

"Then where were you at 1:15 last night?" I asked.

"What are you? The police?" he started to get defensive.

"No - no - my wife - this woman - she disappeared last night from this spot. It’s on the surveillance video, but I didn’t see you. I just thought - I don’t know - maybe you could have been pulling up a car, or..."

The valet let out a big sigh. "1:10 I take a break. Every night, I head over there," he pointed to a large, dark doorway in the opposite direction from where Hannah was taken. "Smoke a cigarette. Sometimes more."

"That answers it. But why 1:10?"

The valet shrugged. "Why not? But it’s like clockwork, my nicotine fix kicks in, and..."

"Okay, I get it. So you just missed Hannah," I said in thought.

"I’ll go get your car now." He smiled and rushed off.

It was strange, but completely plausible. Whoever took Hannah had planned it out. Almost as if they had known the street would be empty, or was at least patient to wait. But how had they gotten Hannah outside at that time? There were so many unanswered questions, I felt like my head might explode.

And then it almost did.