Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
AMES
“Itold you not to shut it.” My eyes shoot daggers at him.
Why does he think I didn’t come out of the closet on my own?
Sure, for the first couple of hours I had people talking to me, trying to get me out, but I wasn’t ready to exit then, not when he might still be around, waiting.
But once I heard the club closing for the night and knew it was safe, I’d screamed myself hoarse, but nobody had heard me.
“I don’t take orders from bitches,” the asshole in front of me says.
I sigh. Of all the men it could have been, why did it have to be him?
Why couldn’t it have been Joe, or one of the bouncers, Meat, Gary, or even one of the other Kings who are around the club a lot of the time?
But no, to top off my disastrous evening, it had to be Rattler, the worst of them all.
I’d already been warned off him by the strippers, who told me to steer clear.
When I’ve been working in the main room, I’ve noticed that the other members of his club don’t seem to have much patience for him.
And now we’re stuck in this closet. Unless he can find a way out, we’ll be here until morning. Briefly, I close my eyes, but it doesn’t shift the image out of my head, nor the realisation that this is going to be intolerable.
I sigh heavily, cross my arms, and settle back to watch, as typical of a man, he tries every move I’ve already taken—shaking the handle, banging the door, as if he can make it comply by his will alone.
It takes him a while before he gives up.
When he does, he slides his hand into the pocket of that vest they call a cut and extracts his phone.
I expect him to immediately call someone for help, but instead of dialing, he just stares at it for a moment, then lets the air out in a resigned sigh, and finally, he places a call. My lips quirk briefly. Perhaps he doesn’t want to admit to the predicament he’s in.
But only a second later, he’s lowering his cell and staring at it in confusion. As if talking to himself, he says in a bewildered tone, “There’s no fuckin’ signal.”
Oh. My face falls. I thought he’d be able to call for assistance. “Your battery ran out?”
If looks could kill, the one he shoots me would get the job done. Luckily, he’s got no such mystical powers, apparently just a caustic tongue. “No, I didn’t fuckin’ forget to charge it. It’s at eighty percent.”
My brow creases. “Then why doesn’t it work?” I’m not really expecting an answer.
“How the fuck should I know? It works in the main room and the rest of the club.” He glances around at the metal shelves lining the walls, packed full of cleaning supplies. He frowns. “This room must be like a Faraday cage or something.”
“That’s not likely.”
“What the fuck do you know?” He sneers, then adds, “Bet you don’t even know what that means.”
“It’s a shield to block electromagnetic fields,” I tell him with a shrug. “I keep my phone in one.” Or I did, when I had access to such things. Now my burner’s just thrown in my purse.
Ignoring me, he eyes the door again. Mumbling to himself, he states, “It’s fuckin’ metal lined.” Then he pulls one of the racks away from the walls, sending cleaning shit tumbling down onto the floor. I kick aside a bottle of bleach that’s landed next to my foot. Luckily, the seal still holds.
“Be careful,” I warn, not at all sure it will be heeded. “If you break any of that shit, we’re going to be breathing in fumes.”
He looks like he’s ignoring me, but I notice he moves more carefully as he inches his way behind the shelving. “The wall’s metal as well.” Looking thoughtful, he states, again as if the only audience is himself, “Well fuck, looks like this might have at one time been a panic room.”
“Don’t you know?” I snap. “After all, you own the club.”
Now he deigns to look at me. “The Kings acquired it a few years back, long before my time. It used to be a brothel that was closed down. Presumably someone decided to use this place as a storeroom without realising what it was.”
“Is that why the door locks automatically?” I have noticed the cleaners open it with a key, then prop the door open.
Again, it’s as if I hadn’t spoken. Instead of answering, he barks an order. “Look around, see if there’s a screwdriver or something.”
Though I’m tempted to tell him to go fuck himself, I don’t want to be in his company for a moment longer than necessary. So, I make a search on one side, and he starts the other. But neither of us find anything. He shows his frustration by returning to the door and smashing his fist against it.
I slide down to the floor, sit on my ass, draw up my knees, and put my arms around them. I speak the obvious. “We’re not getting out of here until morning.”
Now it’s his foot that makes contact with the door. It doesn’t do anything.
“Godfuckin’damnit!” he roars, then rounds on me. “Why the fuck did you come in here in the first place?”
I stay dumb. It’s better that way. I don’t want to give him ammunition.
Maybe if he had been someone else, I’d have confided in them.
But Rattler? I can’t see him keeping his mouth shut, and opening it to the wrong person could put me in danger.
I’d already decided it's too risky to stay here. As soon as I get out, I’m packing my bags and hightailing it out of this town, whether Satin wants to come along or not.
Malachi was here tonight. I’d seen him. He hadn’t noticed me. I’d been able to hide in time. But it’s the fact he even came here looking that’s most worrying. He should have no idea where I am. Thank whatever God there might be, but Satin had gone home early with stomach cramps. If he’d seen her…
Fuck. Does he know where I’m staying? A whimper leaves my lips. If he does, he could have caught up with my only friend in the world.
“You can moan all you want, but it’s not helping,” Rattler growls. “It’s not getting us out of here.”
The thought of Satin is making me desperate, and though I know there’s not, in desperation I still ask, “Isn’t there any way out?”
Suddenly he’s on his knees and in front of me.
His hands reach out, latch onto my arms, and shake me.
“If there was, I’d have found it. But we’re stuck.
” He shakes me again. I’m sure my teeth rattle.
Then he releases me with a push, sending me into the shelving behind me.
I manage to catch the bottle of cleaning solution in one hand.
For a moment, I think about braining him with it.
Oblivious to my thoughts of causing him injury, he goes to the wall opposite and, mimicking me, sinks to the floor and takes up a similar position.
“Why the fuck did you choose this club?” It’s a rhetorical question. “You must be the most accident-prone woman I’ve ever had the bad fuckin’ luck to meet.”
“Hey,” I object. “I’ve never been a server before. You try carrying a loaded tray while hands try to fondle your ass.”
“When we get out of here, you’re going to be out on that fuckin’ ass you’re so protective about.”
I roll my eyes. As if I care. I don’t plan to show my face here ever again.
The thought of setting out on my own fades into nothing compared with the fate that awaits me if I stay.
Once again, I hope Malachi hasn’t found Satin.
There’s no way, is there? We’ve holed up in an apartment where we’re allowed to pay rent in cash, as long as we don’t complain about the cockroaches.
She must have been feeling really bad to voluntarily go back there.
I know she prefers the time spent out of it.
Suddenly, the light goes off. I gasp.
He snarls, “What the ever-loving fuck?” I hear him stand, something being kicked out of the way, a grunt of pain, then the click of the switch, but nothing happens. “I don’t fuckin’ believe this.”
I notice something that he hasn’t yet. There’s always a background hum about the club. The air conditioning units that keep the air circulating are always on, yet now there’s nothing.
“The power’s been switched off.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” he replies, scathingly.
Then there’s a sound in the distance, like a door opening and closing, and male voices.
“Thank fuck,” he says. “My brothers are here. They must have come looking for me when I didn’t go back.”
I hear him take a deep breath as if to shout, and I launch myself at him. It’s pitch black. I can’t tell where he is, so just move toward his voice. I end up with my head in his crotch, earning an oomph from him.
I don’t wait. “Shush,” I rasp. “It might not be the Kings.”
Grabbing my hair, he pulls me up. “What the fuck do you mean?”
“Someone’s looking for me. They were at the club earlier. That’s why I hid.” I swallow, trying to trap the panic rising in my throat. “It could be him coming back to search for me.”
“It would take expertise to break into Royals. We’ve got top-notch security.” While he obviously doubts me, he does keep his voice low.
“And he’s got access to the expertise that could bypass that.”
“Who the fuck’s ‘he’?”
I don’t have a chance to answer. Sounds from outside indicate multiple men are approaching the closet where we’re hidden.
“You sure you didn’t see her leave?” a male voice asks.
“I’m fucking certain.”
Oh my God. It’s him. I flinch, and, unbidden, a small squeak would have escaped my mouth had Rattler not turned my face into his chest and placed his arms around me protectively. Well, I doubt it’s to protect me, more to keep me quiet.
“She must be here somewhere.” Oh fuck, it is Malachi. He’s come back to find me.
“We’ve searched everywhere, Mr. Stone. She’s nowhere to be found.”
“I want this place torn apart.”
“Inadvisable, sir. Royals is owned by the Kings. We don’t want to leave a sign we were here. As it is, cutting the power will make them suspicious. We might not have long before they come to investigate.”
A hand rattles the door to the room we’re in. Rattler presses me tighter to him. I can feel his fast-beating heart under my cheek.
“Open this door.” I shiver as Malachi’s voice sounds again.
“Sir, it’s just a storage closet. It says so.”
“She might be hiding in there.”
There’s a thump against the door, but it doesn’t budge.
“Get it fuckin’ open. Here, come help.”
I can only guess at what’s happening—multiple people trying to shoulder or kick their way in. It seems like the safe room we’ve ended up in is doing the job it was built for.
“Hey, I found another exit, the fire escape from upstairs. Anyone have eyes on that?” another voice queries.
“Why the fuck am I surrounded by imbeciles?” Malachi shouts. “You saying she escaped?”
“I’m saying it’s a possibility. What car does she drive?”
“How the fuck would I know?” Malachi almost screams.
“Sir,” a voice starts hesitantly, using a calming tone. “Satin wasn’t dancing tonight. Maybe Ames has gotten spooked and left.”
Another voice states, “Well, she’s not here now, and I’m getting really fucking nervous about the Kings. You know the reputation they have.”
Another kick comes at the door. This time it’s feebler, and I’d bet everything I have that it’s been delivered by Malachi himself.
“Fuck it. We’ll regroup in the morning. We’ll pull this town apart if that’s what it takes. I want her found. The first man who brings me her head, I’ll pay fuckin’ ten thousand.”
At last, the footsteps start to fade.
Rattler and I are of the same mind. We stay, clinging together, or, more rightly, I remain in his arms, as I don’t think I’d be able to support my body.
I couldn’t say how much time had passed, but eventually the light over our heads comes on again, and the hum of the air conditioning kicks in.
Still, we wait, neither of us speaking, knowing it could be a trick.
Eventually, Rattler sinks to the floor, taking my trembling body down with his. I end up straddling him.
His eyes are cold. “You better start fuckin’ talking to me.” His voice remains low, barely above a whisper.