Chapter One #2
Bits of glass from the window frame bit into my palms. I got my upper body through, then twisted to bring my legs after me. The drop was about ten feet to asphalt of the alley below. I went through feet first, pushing off from the window frame with my hands.
The fall seemed to last forever. My stomach lurched. The ground rushed up to meet me. I hit the pavement, stumbling forward. Pain shot up my legs and I fell forward, rolling until I hit the brick wall of the building on the other side of the alley.
Above me, flames licked at the edges of the broken window.
The fire had taken hold of the building’s interior.
Smoke filled the alley as more of the building caught fire and hot wind swirled around me, the fire creating its own down draft.
My eyes watered and stung, and I coughed with every intake of breath.
In minutes, the entire structure would be engulfed and I needed to be far away from here.
I scrambled to my feet and backed against the wall, putting distance between myself and the burning building. Embers now swirled in the air like orange snow. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed.
I hurried to the side of the building where I’d stashed a .
38 revolver I’d purchased at a gun show a few months back.
I’d always known there was a good possibility I’d get caught and had protected myself the only way I could think of.
Didn’t do me a lot of good outside the building, but they had metal detectors we had to pass through before entering.
I’d stashed the weapon out here knowing that window would be my best way out in a bad situation.
Thankfully, the weapon hadn’t been noticed by anyone.
I pulled it from my hiding place and clutched the weapon to me like a lifeline.
The alley stretched about fifty yards in either direction.
To my right, it dead-ended at a brick wall.
To my left, it opened onto the street that ran past the front of the Enclave éclipse.
Going that way meant risking being seen by whoever responded to the fire and I didn’t know if I could see a threat coming with my eyes burning and stinging.
The sirens grew louder. I couldn’t be here when they arrived.
I had no doubt Iron had killed everyone in the building.
If anyone other than me had escaped, they’d be getting as scarce as I wanted to.
Everyone who worked there knew shady shit got done inside that building.
Most of them kept their heads down, collected their cash, and ignored everything else.
No one wanted to get caught up in this mess. On either side of the law.
Halfway to the street, I heard the distinctive rumble of a motorcycle engine, cutting through the wail of sirens.
The sound grew louder. I froze, pressing myself against the alley wall again.
The smoke still hampered my vision and I couldn’t be certain I headed away from danger rather than straight into it.
I huddled against the alley wall, gun at the ready, though I doubted the way I trembled would encourage the guy to keep his distance if he confronted me.
Half blinded by the smoke, I doubt I could have hit anything from any distance.
The pen camera was still tucked into my bra, the micro SD card secure inside it. I absolutely could not lose that drive.
I took a breath and closed my eyes briefly.
Sweat trickled from my hairline, mixing with the ash and soot on my skin to drip into my eyes.
I raised my hand to swipe at the drops. I saw the blood before I touched my face.
My palm must have caught the edge of the window as I climbed out because a gash split the meaty part of my palm.
I didn’t think it was too deep, but I definitely needed to clean and bandage it.
I had no car. I’d taken the bus here, like I did every night.
I couldn’t go to the police because two of the names on my list were Williamson County deputies, and I had no way of knowing how many were dirty.
I couldn’t go home because Iron knew someone had been in that building, and he would start pulling threads until he found me.
The sirens in the distance weren’t coming for me. They were coming for the fire, and eventually for the bodies inside. By the time the first responders arrived, I needed to be gone and the guy on the motorcycle made that seriously difficult.
I’d gotten myself into this situation because of my sister.
Tessa Garrison. Twenty-one years old. My only family after Mom checked out.
She worked at the Enclave éclipse for six weeks as a cocktail waitress and then disappeared.
The police finally let me file a missing persons report a month after she vanished, only to close it two weeks later with a professional shrug.
With no leads and no evidence of foul play, the officer working her case decided maybe she didn’t want to be found.
So I took matters into my own hands. I got a job as a bookkeeper at a tax preparation office three blocks from the éclipse.
I made a lifted key when the night manager left his key ring on the bar during his smoke break.
The guy had two keys for the club on the same ring and, thankfully, hadn’t noticed one being gone in the bundle of keys he kept.
I bought a hollowed-out pen camera from a guy who sold spy gear out of his van behind the flea market.
I took photos of every ledger, every receipt, every name that passed through Carl Pruitt’s sweaty fingers I could manage to get my hands on.
Finally, I found what I searched so hard for.
The one transaction that shouldn’t have been there.
Five thousand dollars, cash, entered the same night Tessa disappeared.
I never found Tessa’s phone and her body never turned up.
But I found enough to know she’d likely been taken.
And the people who took her were the same people who owned the Enclave éclipse, who paid off deputies to look the other way, who thought they could make problems disappear with cash and threats. People like Iron.
The fire was fully involved now, visible flames from the window I’d originally jumped from licked up the wall in an orange glow. I needed to get out of here. Fast.
Taking a breath, I hurried down the alley, the driving certainty that danger hunted me nearly throwing me into a panic. As I stumbled out of the alley onto the sidewalk I collided with a large, solid body. Strong hands gripped my shoulders, steadying me, or I’d have fallen on my ass.
“Easy there.” I shied back, backing up several steps to stand against the building. I couldn’t see the guy clearly. His form resembled a blurry blob, with the occasional glimpse of a person-shaped blob. “Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you. Are you OK? Were you in the building?”
The guy’s question made me grip my gun all the harder.
Iron knew someone was inside the room, or, at least, the building.
If this guy was one of Iron’s men, I’d have no hope of fighting him off.
I raised my gun, tightening my grip. I still didn’t know if I could actually pull the trigger.
I mean, I could, but hesitating would be just as bad as not shooting. Either way, I’d be dead.
The figure took a step forward, then another, his movements careful and measured. I raised the gun, pointing at the center of what I hoped was his chest. My finger settled alongside the trigger. I didn’t trust myself not to shoot accidentally and hurt someone innocent.
“Don’t come any closer,” I called, my voice steady despite the fear crawling up my throat. My hand trembled wildly as I held the heavy firearm. My other hand burned, but I had to bring it up to hold the gun relatively steady.
The figure stopped. For a long moment, we faced each other in the alley. The fire cast jumping shadows across the pavement. The sirens wailed, almost on top of us now.
“You’re bleeding.” He spoke in a calm voice. “And the cops are thirty seconds out. You want to explain why you’re standing outside a burning building with a gun, or do you want a ride somewhere that isn’t here?”
I didn’t lower the gun. “Who are you?”
He took another step forward, close enough now that I could see his face in the firelight -- hard angles, watchful eyes, a beard trimmed close to his jaw.
“Name’s Griffin,” he said. “I’m not with them.
” He jerked his chin toward the burning building.
“But I know who is. And I think maybe you and I should talk about that.”
At the mouth of the alley, red and blue lights flashed as the first police cruiser pulled up to the curb to clear a path for the fire trucks.
I had three choices. I could run. I could stay, and answer questions I had no good answers for.
Or I could go with a stranger I couldn’t even see clearly and hope he was telling the truth.
I made my decision. I lowered the gun, just slightly, and nodded. “If you try to hurt me, I’ll kill you.”
“Fair enough.”