First Ride (12 page)

I remember the urgency to Dawson’s voice from his call as I park in the rear lot, slamming the car door a lot harder than I’d intended. I nearly skid across the last patch of gravel leading up to the employee entrance where I pound hard on the cool steel.

It doesn’t take long until the heavy door is opened.

“Where’s Dawson?” I breathlessly ask Chase.

He takes me by the elbow and leads me further into the building with the clicking echo of the door closing behind us. I hear a flurry of voices coming from several different directions, but no music. I find that unsettling. This place is usually pumping with loud beats through the sound system.

I expect to be taken to Dawson’s office, the small cramped and cluttered room where he first offered me a job, but instead am led down a hallway I’ve yet to have reason to explore.

We stop abruptly in front of a plain looking metal door with some type of security window built in. There’s something odd about the door, though. It doesn’t have a handle.

Chase quickly types a four-digit code into a security pad that looks like what we have back at Dawson’s place and before I know it there’s a beep similar to what you’d hear when entering a jewelry store. The door clicks open and Chase uses his back to push up against the grey metal, opening it wide for both of us to enter.

I recognize several faces. Uno. Gryff. Dawson.

He looks relieved to see me, tearing away from his conversation with the two other men.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, afraid of what the answer may be. Everyone looks so serious, so mad.

Dawson’s gigantic arms circle around me, holding tight, and for a moment I believe that whatever the news is, I can handle it … as long as he holds me.

“Bad fucking day, Angel.” I hear fatigue in his voice. He inhales deeply, his face buried in my hair, breathing me in. “Baby’s Ol’ man, Stitch.”

My eyes widen and I pull back. “Oh my God! What happened?” I think of the pregnant woman, my new friend, my mentor of sorts.

“Don’t know yet. Information’s trickling out. Some sort of ambush. He’s been stabbed, we know that much for sure from our source on the inside. The whole prison’s on lockdown.” He rattles off the facts. I hear a crash behind him where Gryff’s tossed a chair over in anger.

I look from man to man registering the seething fury radiating from each of them as Dawson recounts what’s happened.

“What can I do?” I whisper.

“We’re leaving. Taking Baby up there. Gotta find out for sure. Gotta be there, if--”

It dawns on me that they don’t know if Stitch is going to make it, or if he’s even still alive. I’ve never met the man but I see by the look in Dawson’s eyes, in the other Slayers’ eyes, how much he means to them. I recall how Baby lights up whenever talking about her Ol’ man.

Oh God! Their baby. Not even born yet and quite possibly fatherless already.

“Where is she? I need to see her.” I step backward, toward the door. A vivid memory of Baby telling me how the other Ol’ ladies are like your sisters. How they’re the first ones there when shit gets bad.

I can’t imagine shit getting worse than this for her.

“Angel, wait,” Dawson keeps me close. “I need you to stay behind. Watch over the club. It should be a slow night, but I don’t want to freak Baby out even more. I want to keep things as normal as possible until we know shit for sure.”

I nod. “Sure. Whatever you need.”

Dawson places his hand on my lower back and we turn, him guiding me out through the same electronic door that beeps when opened. “The dancers will handle themselves. You just take care of the register. The bouncer, the cook and the bar boys will take care of everything else. I just need you to lock up.”

“Sure. I’ll have Lana pick Sasha up from preschool and watch her until I get home.”

I hear sobbing grow closer as we approach Dawson’s office. Dawson pushes the door open just enough for me to enter. “We’re leaving in twenty minutes. Make sure she’s ready.”

I take a deep breath and brace myself before entering. I’ve never consoled a person like this before. Dawson pulls me in quickly, sensing my nervousness, and plants a firm yet reassuring kiss on my sluggish lips.

“You got this.” His eyes show the confidence he has in me. I swallow and nod slowly.

He’s right.

I got this.

CHAPTER TEN

MOLLY

“Just booted the last guy out, Angel.” Butch, the head bouncer reports as I count the stacks of cold hard cash.

Ah! I’ve lost count
again
.

That’s the third time I’ve lost my place within the crisp bills, although the first two times had absolutely nothing to do with Butch.

“Thanks. I’m good here, if you guys want to head out. Esè will stay until we lock up.” I clear the calculator and prepare to start again on tallying up the money.

He’s big, with massive muscles underneath his tight black shirt, but he wears no leather. He’s not a Slayer, but a regular employee. “You sure ‘bout that Angel? I don’t mind staying.”

It’s late. Even for a place like this that has its last call around two on a Monday night, it’s late. It’s nobody’s fault but mine since I couldn’t figure out how to close down the register.

I know if I hadn’t been as distracted as I was tonight, that I’d have been able to shut the system down and count the cash on the first try, but I’m too shaken up.

Dawson had called briefly when they arrived not long ago at the hospital closest to the prison. Stitch had in fact barely survived the attack and was transferred there under guard since the prison infirmary was unable to meet his needs. I could hear Baby sobbing in the background of his call as rules prevented her from seeing her husband until he was out of surgery.

Dawson hadn’t told me much but I keep picturing some attack like I’d seen in movies. Something in the prison shower, or the mess hall.

I shake my head to clear the image while I lose count yet again. “I’m sure, Butch. See ya tomorrow.”

He doesn’t wait long to leave, no doubt tired from a long night of trying to control drunken men.

One hundred. Two hundred. Three hundred.

“See ya, Angel! Good job tonight.” Lexi, one of the last dancers remaining behind calls into Dawson’s office as she passes on her way out of the building.

I drop my head to the table with a tiny thud after loosing my count yet again.

This just isn’t gonna happen, I tell myself. Not tonight at least. I take the bills and zip them into the blue canvas bag like I’d seen Dawson do the other night, placing it into the empty wall safe he’d left open for me before shutting it and spinning the dial.

He’ll just have to count it when he gets back, I tell myself. I’m not in a state of mind to do anything right now. It’s hard enough to keep images of dying men in hospital beds at bay.

Our conversation had been short but Dawson did explain that they’d be staying the night, maybe even longer, keeping watch at the hospital in case of another attempt on Stitch.

Silly me. One would think someone under the guard of a Sheriff would at least be safe in a hospital bed. Apparently, according to Dawson, Stitch is even
more
vulnerable now than he was in jail; fewer witnesses and more opportunity for someone to come and finish the job.

The whole idea of it makes me sick. What kind of a sick fucker comes after a man that can’t defend himself? A coward. That’s who.

I don’t know Stitch for anything, but I’m glad Dawson and his men are there. At least that way I know, for Baby and their unborn child’s sake, that no one is getting to Stitch tonight. I remember what Dawson said to Sasha last night about something having to get through him first to get to her.

No one is getting through him. Not to Stitch. Not to Sasha. Under the circumstances, the closest thing to resemble a smile crosses my lips as I realize nothing’s getting to
me
either. Not through Dawson.

I don’t know the name for the feeling that’s flooding over me right now, having nothing to equate it with in a long time, but I think I feel … safe.

I hear the back door slam shut and not long after, Esè walks in. “All locked up Angel. You ready?”

The building is quiet with all of the lights now off except the back hallway. I’ve never been the last one out before, as most of the dancers stay back to spend “time” with the Slayers after closing. With no brothers around tonight the ladies had no reason to hang around.

I grab my purse from the back of Dawson’s chair and wriggle my tired feet back into my boots. “Yep. Let’s get outta here.”

I make sure the safe’s locked and then hit the light switch before closing Dawson’s office up for the night.

“Hold up!” I hear a whiny voice from behind us. Candy strolls out of the dressing room. Great. Just the person I want to see right now. We’ve been careful to avoid each other all night, but I felt her staring me down whenever she spotted me.

I don’t have time for this shit right now.

Esè holds the door open for us. “After you, ladies. Hey Candy, got any plans tonight? Wanna hang?”

She laughs condescendingly. “I don’t fuck prospects, but, thanks anyway.” I feel her gaze on me once more. “I have a
very
select clientele.”

I roll my eyes while locking the door behind us. “Well, that list just lost a customer.”

She shrugs. “We’ll see.”

I bite my lip.

Esè senses the budding bitch fight and is eager to be clear of it. “All right. You girls okay from here?”

Other than Candy’s red hot convertible and Dawson’s black Jeep, the back parking lot’s empty. “We’re good. I think we understand one another. You go ahead.”

He nods and waits until we each walk to our respective automobiles and enter, safe from each other’s claws, before he walks around the building to his own bike parked out front.

My engine starts smoothly with hers soon after. The nights are getting cooler, borderline cold, so I turn the heat up blasting the forced air through the vents.

The knock at the window is anything but expected and I whip my head up. Candy’s pouting from outside the passenger door, looking to say something. Oh God,
please
don’t let her start shit right now. I know she’s one of Dawson’s best dancers and it wouldn’t help things if she were unable to climb a pole because she’s stuck in a hospital bed.

I lower the window and lean over.

“I left my phone in my locker,” she says flatly.

I exhale impatiently. “And?”

She narrows her overly lashed eyes at me. “
And
I need it. Now.”

Of course she does, because Little Miss Entitled can’t possibly go twelve hours without her iPhone, right?

I clear my throat impatiently. Every extra minute I spend with this bitch is one less minute I can sleep tonight, so I better just shut her up. “Fine.”

Cutting the engine, I pull the keys from the ignition and find the one Dawson gave me for the back door to the club. Candy follows me in her ridiculously high shoes as I lead us back into the building, quickly disarming the alarm.

Other than the red glow from the emergency exit sign, the place is pitch dark.

“Hurry up and get your phone.” I turn on the hall light for her to follow the corridor to the nearby dressing room.

My eyes feel heavy, with my lids drooping. I lean back against the brick wall and bow my head for a moment.

Crash!

What the fuck?

I take the three steps forward into the dressing room where Candy’s reaching into her locker. “What was that?” She asks.

“I thought that was you?” I’m alarmed. She shakes her head no and our eyes both dart to the door of the room when we hear it again.

Candy breathes in sharply and opens her mouth to speak but I quickly slap my hand over it.

“Shh!” I whisper.

Voices. I hear voices.

Someone’s up front.

“We need to hide! Now!” I look around hurriedly for someplace, anyplace, to sneak into.

I’m small enough to crawl into one of the generous sized lockers, but there’s no way in hell Candy will. Her boobs alone wouldn’t fit.

We hear the voices growing louder. “Hey. There’s a light on back here.”

Oh, shit. We’re gonna get caught.

Okay, okay. I gotta calm down. I need to think. I scan the room once more. There’s a giant bin of towels and costumes ready to be laundered over in the corner. It’ll have to do.

Pushing Candy in that direction, I whisper for her to lose the shoes, which she promptly kicks off. We scoop out handfuls of material from the rolling bin and I help get her inside quickly before covering her back up.

God, if only the circumstances were different. I’d love to suffocate the little bitch with the G-strings in my hand right now.

Just in case the life-size blow up doll doesn’t have the common sense to figure it out on her own, I tell her to be quiet and stay still before creeping over to her opened locker and stepping in.

I hold the latch up carefully so it doesn’t make a sound as I pull the door closed.

“It’s just the light by the door, asshole. Probably keep it on all night. We saw the last guy leave.” Another voice, different from the first, answers out too close for my liking. “Check the rooms anyway.”

There are rummaging noises coming from beyond my view through the three slanted openings in the metal locker door millimeters from my face.

I see a pair of dark shoes appear on the ground of the dressing room, moving about, doing as he’s told, checking. I hold my breath and slowly lower the handle in my fingers, locking the door in case he gets the urge to start checking those as well.

“Clear!” The man on the other side of the locker door calls out, satisfied. Once he’s left the room, I force myself to start breathing again. “Where we gonna leave it?” That same man calls out again, only this time his voice is far enough not to cause the hairs on the back of my neck to rise.

Feet shuffle, bodies move. “Find an office. We’ll stash some there. The rest behind the bar. Not too hidden, but not out in the open. Something that can be found without looking like it was meant to be found, ya know?”

I bite my lip. What the hell are they talking about? At first I thought we were being robbed. Usually thieves
take
shit, not
hide
shit.

“It’s a shame to waste so much coke. You know how much we can get for this?”

There’s my answer, and I’m damn sure he’s not talking about cola right now.

Drugs. They’ve
got
to be talking about drugs. Why would they be putting drugs in Dawson’s office?

Other than the light left on when Candy and I entered, I notice the men – however many of them there are- don’t turn any others on. Instead, the thick beams of several flashlights bounce around like lasers in the dark of Dawson’s office. I can see just a bit of it if I angle myself right.

“Good,” One tells another as the yellow and white streams of light disappear from my limited field of vision. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here, yeah? The skimmer can only bypass the alarm for a few more minutes.”

The shuffling feet I heard earlier now take on a faster, more hurried pace. There’s a bevy of sliding sounds, of general noises before eventually … nothing.

I keep still, making sure my breaths are as quiet and shallow as possible, waiting to hear something, anything. Still nothing.

What if they’re still here? What if they’re waiting, pretending they left?

My mind races before rationality begins to counter my thoughts.

They have no idea Candy and I are here. They’d have no reason to wait. I notice Candy hasn’t moved, hasn’t made a sound still hidden beneath the pile of dirty costumes and towels from the shower. Like me, she must be thinking the same things, not knowing if it’s safe yet.

I keep my eyes glued to the hallway, looking for shadows of any kind. I keep my ears open. Minute after minute passes with me anxiously waiting. The only thing that catches my senses is the thick scent of perfume off the items that share the small space of Candy’s locker with me.

I hadn’t noticed it earlier, as I was concentrating on more important things, but now it almost chokes me. Holding out as long as I can, I let it nearly suffocate me.

After what must have been twenty minutes and countless suppressed gags later, I lift the inside metal hook that holds the door closed and let it open slowly. There’s a small creak from a tight hinge and I freeze, holding my breath, half expecting someone to run in and tackle me.

My eyes dart over to the laundry pile but it doesn’t move. I push the door open further and step carefully out, not bothering to close the locker behind me. I tip-toe to the dressing room door and peek my head around the doorjamb. Nothing.

Summoning all my strength, I creep into the open hallway, slinking down into the darkness. Still nothing.

My foot catches on the leg of a chair, pushing it several inches with my next step and the sound booms in my ears as if it were as loud as a bass drum. My breath catches, but nothing happens. If there were anyone else here, they
definitely
would have heard that sound.

I feel my tense shoulders fall, finally believing that the threat has passed. I turn my back to the blackened room and move quickly back to Candy.