Read Online Believed Violent by James Hadley Chase - Free Book Online Page A

ladened room that made up the Club. There were some thirty odd sailors already having themselves a ball, and a few well dressed men, probably Advertising Account Executives, trying to find relaxation, and, of course, the girls.
    Keegan spotted Shane O’Brien who ran the Club. He worked his way around the tightly packed tables, shook his head at the three girls who were advancing hopefully towards him and came to rest at O’Brien’s side.
    O’Brien was a tall, rangy Irishman with a broken nose, red hair and steel blue eyes.
    As Keegan came out of the smoke ladened atmosphere, O’Brien looked warily at him. He didn’t like Keegan. He knew he was dangerous and a professional killer.
    “Hi, Shane,” Keegan said. Looks like you have a big house.”
    “It’s early yet,” O’Brien returned. “It’ll be quite a night by two o’clock. There’s a Flat-top parked in the bay. The boys keep coming.”
    “Yeah.” Keegan lit a cigarette. “Where’s Drena?”
    O’Brien looked away.
    “She’s busy. What’s she to you?”
    Keegan smiled at him. His small green eyes glittered viciously.
    “Look, Mick, relax. I want her. I’ve business with her. So suppose you go get her?”
    O’Brien eyed him. Big as he was, plus his six bouncers, he was still scared of Keegan.
    “Now look, friend, she is valuable to me. She does a good job here. I don’t want her doing business with you.”
    “No?” Keegan continued to smile. “Well, that’s too bad. Run along, Mick, and get her. I could come in some other night with Lu. He and I could have a ball here. Lift the feet, Irish. I want her.”
    O’Brien recognized a threat when he heard it. He hesitated, then decided Drena wasn’t worth his Club being smashed up. He moved away. Keegan sat at one of the empty tables. A waiter came swiftly to his side. Keegan shook his head at him and the waiter went away.
    Drena French pushed her way through a group of sailors, protecting her behind with her hands. She was wearing the Club uniform. The slogan printed across her neat hips read: Fanny Is My Name ― Frantic Is My Nature.
    She paused beside Keegan, regarding him. She thought he was quite a doll, but she was alert and suspicious. O’Brien had warned her this man was dangerous.
    “What is it, honey?” she asked, leaning over him.
    “Get changed,” Keegan said, “and meet me outside in ten minutes. I’ve a proposition for you.”
    Drena laughed.
    “Come on sweetheart, be your age. I work here. I can’t quit at this hour. Besides, I’m not interested in propositions. That’s terribly old hat.”
    Keegan managed to control the urge to slap her pretty face. Even he didn’t want to tangle with O’Brien’s six bouncers. Containing his vicious temper, he said, “But you will be interested, baby. It’s big money. I have a little job lined up for you. The pay-off is in four beautiful, fat figures.”
    Drena stiffened, staring at him.
    “You kidding?”
    “No.” Keegan took out his wallet and produced three one hundred dollar bills. He let her see them, then folded them, and getting to his feet, he tucked them into her bra. “Hurry it up, baby. In ten minutes,” and he walked out of the Club.
    O’Brien came through the cigarette smoke and dim lights.
    “What gives?” he demanded.
    “I don’t know.” Drena took the three folded bills from her bra and showed them to him. “He says he wants me to do a job.” She was about to tell O’Brien that Keegan had talked of four figures, but decided that she could be talking too much. “Can I run along, Shane?”
    “I can’t stop you,” O’Brien said. “But watch it. This guy is as cute as a cobra and as loving as a dose of poison.”
    “Well, it can’t kill me to hear what he wants,” Drena said. “I can take care of myself,” then turning, she walked away, swishing her hips, the lettering on her panties jerking.
    Fifteen minutes later, wearing a shabby nylon dress and down-at-the-heel shoes, she walked out of the