The trap was set and baited.  There wasn’t anything else Andreas could do right then but wait, which was his least favourite.  Even being on the run, high speed car chases, being shot at… all that sounded a lot more fun than waiting around for a damned phone call.  He decided to focus his energy into setting up for an easier watch.<br/><br/>He didn’t hang around the club for more than a few minutes after leaving the bathroom.  There was no interest in finding someone to pick up and take back to his hotel room, nor was there any more information he’d be able to pry out of anyone.  He headed out and lit a cigarette, casually strolling around the place.  It was dark, late, and there was a chill in the air.  It wasn’t raining, but everything was wet as if it had stopped minutes before Andreas had stepped outside.  It felt and sounded<i>crisp</i>, reminding him of one of his more memorable kills.  It put a smile on his face.  It seemed innocent enough, and anyone passing by might’ve assumed he was thinking about a lover.<br/><br/>But he wasn’t lingering in the past.  He found his way back to his Harley and looked around, letting his eyes scan the different vehicles populating it.  Employees typically took the spaces toward the back, so he paid attention there, trying to spot the car that Alex might’ve taken.  He’d neglected to look into vehicle registration before coming out here.  It might not have made much of a difference, though, because if a man like Richard Tramdan was controlling enough over his 20-something son to make him afraid of coffee, then he might not have allowed him to own his own car.  Alex was unlikely to have that much freedom.  That he had a job was some kind of miracle.  Andreas then remembered the man’s words to him.<i>My boss would be mad and call my father…</i>So even at work, the poor kid was on a leash.  Andreas knew what that was like.<br/><br/>Sighing, he flicked the remnants of his cigarette off into the damp night and rode off.  Pretty boy hadn’t called him yet, so likely wouldn’t that night.  That left Andreas with time to think, time to plan.  He’d remembered spotting a hotel on the opposite corner of the club and circled back around to it.  It wasn’t the best, and he suspected they didn’t meet his expectations, but what the place lacked in luxury it made up for in convenient and discreet spying distance.  He made sure he had a room with a view of the club’s parking, glanced at his watch, and made himself as comfortable as possible in the darkened, moderately priced room.<br/><br/>Time passed.<br/><br/>He spotted that raping bastard staggering out and his eyes narrowed.  Andreas made sure to note the truck he climbed into.  With the aid of some binoculars, he even managed to jot down the license plate.  That would be good for relieving some tension later.<br/><br/>It was just after three when he saw Alex leaving the establishment.  He got into a silver car and headed off.  Probably straight home, just as daddy wanted.  Not that there was much to get into at three in the morning, but Andreas figured there would be plenty of security to report when young Alex came in.  Andreas didn’t even bother to check into anything else that night.  Sleep was important, and he was forever coming up short when working.<br/><br/>The next day was a bust.  No silver car, no slinky blond thing coming in to work.  To say Andreas was disappointed was an understatement.  He’d been watching out the window since around three in the afternoon with nothing to show for it except a bit of stiffness for the extended downtime.  He looked into the license plate he’d written down the previous night and found a name, address, and plenty of other information on the man who’d attacked Alex in the bathroom.  He had a history of violence.  There was nothing in there on sexual assault, but if he only targeted men that explained a lot.  Men were a lot less likely to come forward in those instances.  Hell, even women were easily frightened into silence or too embarrassed to speak out.  Andreas grunted and flipped the notebook closed.  He had to get some dinner or something.<br/><br/>Day two was just as miserable.  He’d slept in too late, rushed to get a nutrition shake down, and barely had any time to work out in the crappy little gym the hotel had.  Come three in the afternoon, he was sat right by the window again, lights out and eyes peeled for any sign of Alex.  Time passed slower than usual, he swore, and by six he was going out of his mind.  His blue gaze slid over to the notebook he’d earlier tossed on the bed.  He hadn’t seen good ol’ Matt come back to the club, either.  Maybe he never would, thanks to his experience of having his ass handed to him.<br/><br/>Day three.  He was beginning to get impatient.  Sure, it was possible that Alex had simply been scheduled those days off, but it was also possible that his father somehow caught wind of something weird going on at the club and took it out on his son.  If Andreas couldn’t get to that Dick through Alex, then he’d just wasted the last several days and would have to find a new in.  That left what?  The wife?  He hated dealing with drunks, particularly ones he wasn’t attracted to in the least.  He was now glaring at the notebook.  He needed a release.  He needed action.<br/><br/>He’d already slapped Matt’s address into his GPS to map out a route before he caught sight of a silver car across the street.  He hesitated right there, watching and waiting, until his phone vibrated.  It wasn’t a phone call, but it was something.  He didn’t have time to read the text before another popped up, followed soon after by a third.<br/><br/>Andreas smiled.<br/><br/>“Hey, Alex.  How could I forget?  Do I come across as one of those?”<br/><br/>“Hope you’re doing alright.  Sorry I haven’t been back to the club.”<br/><br/>“That offer for coffee still stands.  Whenever you want it.”