Chapter Sixteen Blake
Chapter Sixteen
Blake
The train screeched to a halt, and when the doors opened, not many got off. Instead, a whole slew of guys got on.
Over the years, I’d begun to recognize Creighton’s army.
It wasn’t all guys. Girls joined as well, but he tended to use the girls for different jobs.
They were recruiters. Scouters too. Girls got overlooked, so Creighton used that, utilized them in areas where he wanted them to be overlooked.
Guys, though, they looked like these guys.
Youngish. Always dressed to blend in. Some wore jeans.
Some wore joggers. Sweatshirts. Baseball caps.
They could be teenagers or thirty-year-olds.
They took care of themselves. Kept themselves fit.
Clean shaven (generally), and their hair was cut with a fade on the side and a little extra on the top.
Nothing to stick out.
Except their eyes.
If they came to Creighton without hardened eyes, they got them soon after. Then again, the type of guy or girl who would sign up to work for Creighton generally already had those eyes. Most came from the street.
Like Creighton. Like me.
I counted twelve that got on. They were Creighton’s. I knew without a doubt, and just before the doors were going to close, the man himself stepped onto the train.
Conversations ceased. Eyes went to him.
It’s just how he affected people, his own army and strangers.
They knew he was someone, and I was remembering so many other times when I was on the bus or on a train and I’d be alone.
Creighton would show up. He’d watch me as I would watch him.
We’d share a smile because no one else mattered except the two of us.
He only had eyes for me, and though I would try to fight against his pull, I would only have eyes for him too.
He’d sit beside me, sliding into my seat, and turn to me. The world would be boxed out. It was more effective on the bus, but it had the same effect today. He touched the pole beside my seat and indicated the spot beside me. An eyebrow quirked up.
I slid over, making room.
He pivoted around the pole and slid right in, all smooth.
I drawled, “Nice.”
He smirked. “I’ve had practice.”
I laughed.
He smiled.
And my heart fluttered.
I ordered it to stop and tried to scowl. “What are you doing here?”
He made a show of looking back and forth, leaning around, and looking again. “Wait. Is this not the subway? My bad. I must be using the bus. I didn’t intend to use the bus. I’ll have to get off at the next stop.”
“Stop.” I caught his hand, ignored how it jump-started my pulse. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah. Stop. The next stop.”
I groaned, trying to hold back a grin. “Creight. You’re being ridiculous.”
He chuckled, getting serious, and nudged his shoulder to mine. “Made you smile.”
I smoothed out that grin. “Barely.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Is that a challenge?”
“You’re being extra today.”
“Well, you know. We’re friends again.”
“We’re not.”
“You’re holding my hand.”
I looked down at it and let his hand go. “Doesn’t mean anything.”
He moved in closer, his head bending farther to me. “I’ve been crawling into you—”
“Fine. Shut up. Friends. We’re . . . friendly. We’re friendly.” I groaned. “I don’t think I’d classify us as friends. Family. Mortal enemies. Either would work better than friends.”
A genuine chuckle slipped free from him. “Where are you heading?”
I shook my head. “Why do you do that? Pretend you don’t know?”
“Because you like the option of giving me the answer. We can switch roles. You can ask me where I’m going.” He pretended to tsk me. “Always about you. Jeez, Blake. Why don’t you ask me how my day is going for a change?”
I bit down on my lip, trying to swallow the grin. “Fine. Where are you going today? You and your friends? Church? Going to volunteer at a soup kitchen?”
He pretended to scowl. “Now you’re just making fun of me.”
“You’re right. You’re more likely going to rob the soup kitchen.”
He barked out a laugh, and I knew that laugh would’ve gotten anyone’s attention that wasn’t already turned our way.
It was commonplace growing up with Creighton Lane beside me.
Stalking me. Prowling behind me. Leading the charge.
Or doing what he was doing now, laughing with me and acting like the world didn’t exist outside of us.
I used to love days like this.
Until I remembered the bodies. My smile faded.
“I’d never rob a soup kitchen.” He saw the myriad of thoughts cross my face.
“You’d never have that. A saint would tell you what I’d be up to.
Before I’d even be able to leave with whatever little money they had, you’d be marching your way in and ordering me to put it back and then you’d make me write a check for triple what I tried to steal.
” He lifted up an eyebrow. “That sound right?”
“It did except for the saint part. If I could talk to saints, I would’ve told my social worker to skip Miss Marcie’s house.” I couldn’t help myself, knowing that was meant to hurt him.
Did it? I watched him for any reaction.
He got quiet, and the small curve from his lip slowly lowered down. Those blank eyes stayed blank.
He murmured, “Point to Blake.”
That stung, a little, so I looked away. “I’m going to the foster center.”
“Mind if I walk you there?”
Some of the sting lifted. He sounded genuine, and I found myself nodding. “Sure.”
He slid down in the seat, getting comfortable, and reached for my hand.
My chest lifted and held still. My heart flipped over, and for a moment, one moment, I blinked back tears because I wanted this with him.
A train ride. Him to be a regular guy. I was just a girl, traveling with her boyfriend, and he was holding her hand because we got to indulge in this very normal public display of affection.
I blinked away a tear and pushed aside that nagging voice to remember why I ran from him in the beginning because he was there, still behind my heart, and my fight was fading more and more.
I just didn’t want to hear it.
Lassiter found me when I was working a shift at Octavia that night. He slid onto a barstool, saying, “You spent the day with him.”
“Not technically, but a part of it. Yeah.” I frowned at him, wondering why he was here and why he was bringing this up.
My coworker began to go to him. I waved him off. “I got him. I know the little shit.”
Lassiter grinned, but it fell away right away. He wasn’t a drinker, so I filled a glass of water and put it in front of him.
He didn’t reach for it. “He called you his woman the other week.”
His woman?
I shrugged, not wanting to focus on what he said. “Everyone knows I’m one of his.”
He leaned farther over the counter, crossing his arms. “Not his woman, not like that. That’s new. That changes things. Is that what’s going on?”
I frowned, unease skittering down my spine. “I came here to get away from him. You know that . . .” Movement caught my eye. Spence was heading our way, watching us. Or, correction, watching Lassiter.
Lassiter noticed him and sat back on his stool. “He’s here for me.”
I frowned. “He’s my boss.”
Lassiter shook his head. “He’s here for me.”
As Spence closed the distance, coming to the end of my counter with two security guards behind him, Lassiter spoke first, almost blandly. “I have no weapons on me. Your bouncers know this.”
“You’re distracting my employee.”
My skin grew hot because he was right. I should be working, not talking about Creighton. Moving aside, I began filling drink orders. We got hit by a rush, and by the time I got some semblance of a break, I glanced around, but Lassiter was gone.
I didn’t think anything of it. I’d talk to him later or more than likely, Lassiter would find me to follow up on whatever he was concerned about.
Later, I was leaving the locker room at the end of my shift and called out to the rest still inside, “Have a good night, everyone.”
“Bye, Blake!”
“See you.”
“Have a good one.” A few called back.
I enjoyed working here so far. The boss had remained away except for tonight.
My coworkers were all friendly. For knowing the place had Mafia ties, it didn’t seem like it.
The whole nightclub felt like any other nightclub.
It was run deftly. A good place. I always felt safe, knowing their security was active and involved.
Yeah. I liked it here. I was glad I’d applied.
I pushed out the back door. Creighton’s watcher would be waiting for me in the front, where he’d trail me to the subway and take a seat a few back from me. It was our routine, so I went through the alley that would take me to the street.
Hearing voices that came from the alley, I didn’t think anything of it. They were low, almost hushed. No one was stressed or upset. There was no reason to set off an alarm with me, but I’d only gotten three steps before I saw who was speaking.
Two men were talking, tucked against the wall of the building across from Octavia. One had his back to the alley, but I could see him from the side. The other was facing the alley, his face in shadow. There was a door behind him.
Both were businessmen. Both wore custom tailored suits, reeking of money.
I didn’t think much of the exchange until one guy reached inside his suit jacket, lifting it to reveal a gun that was holstered against his hip.
I still didn’t think anything of it. Guns were common in my life, but then the guy pulled out a thick envelope and handed it to the man, who took it, tucking it away instantly. He turned to leave, saw me, and stopped short. “Fuck.”
I didn’t know this guy, but he was looking at me as if I were an inconvenience to him. Like a gnat.
I started to say something, probably a retort because it was late at night and I didn’t care one iota who this guy was, but the other one, the guy who’d handed him the envelope, stepped out from the shadows.
I stopped in my tracks, swallowing thickly. Him, I did know. Though I wished I didn’t.
It was Ashton Walden, and his gaze was pinned right smack on me. Yep. He fully knew who I was too.
The bottom of my gut fell to my feet. This was so very very not good.
Walden’s mouth flattened, and he took a step toward me. “Well, Miss Green. You are not supposed to be here. Of all the little girls to walk down this alley on this night, at this hour, it had to be you. You must have some bad luck.”
I almost snorted because he had no idea.
A scrape sounded from behind me, and before I could respond or react, something was shoved over my head. The world went dark. I felt a prick as a needle was jammed into my neck.
I gasped, my legs shifting into a fighting stance automatically. But I was too late because the world began to tilt, and I was going down.
Strong arms caught me right as I realized what was happening.
Shit. I’m being kidnapped.