Chapter 2
HARRISON
What the fuck was in that crawlspace?
Bianca wanted me out of here as quickly as possible.
I lean against the red door that leads to the women’s restroom. The stifled hustle and bustle of female patrons using the facilities buzzes through.
I can’t go back inside. They’d scream, and then Rouge would find me.
But I’m wearing next to nothing. I came here in a trench coat, but Bianca threw that in her dressing room once we got to Aces.
More importantly, I don’t have my phone or my wallet.
I can’t call an Uber. Can’t even pay for a cab.
All I have on me is this extremely tight, extremely small pair of black shorts.
It’s March. Mid-March.
The seventeenth of March. St. Patrick’s Day.
Happy fucking birthday to me.
It’s not too cold outside, but it’s not exactly balmy either.
We took Bianca’s car. She has a reserved spot in the Aces parking garage, and my Cadillac is a little too conspicuous for us to have brought it. I’m sure Chet and Rouge know everything about me, and they’d be able to figure out something was up if they saw my vehicle parked in Bianca’s spot.
Bianca’s face was sheet white when she emerged from the crawlspace.
Whatever she found back there has her fucking haunted. And she wanted me to get out of Aces as quickly as humanly possible.
Will she be okay?
I want nothing more than to go back through to Aces and make sure she’s all right. I can’t even text her without my phone.
Fuck fuck fuck.
But I can’t go back through the waitstaff entrance. And I certainly won’t get past Chet in the patron entrance.
That’s not what Bianca wants anyway. She clearly thinks I’m in danger if I stay here.
The best thing I can do is figure out how the hell I’m getting home and then contact her from there. We’ll regroup and she can finally tell me what exactly she found in that hidden area above the ladies’ toilets.
Now it’s time to think.
I’m nearly naked. No phone, no wallet, no keys.
What’s my next move?
I’m not too far from St. Charles. It’s a brisk walk from here.
Particularly brisk since I’m essentially in my underwear.
I open the door that leads to the alleyway off the main one we normally take into Aces. I’m barefoot, of fucking course. So I have to avoid the small stones and broken shards of glass that litter the alleyway. Once I’m on the actual streets, it’s a little smoother.
But now people are staring at me.
I pay them no mind. I keep my eyes forward and head toward the hospital.
This is Chicago. I’m not the first weirdo who’s wandered the streets in next to nothing. At least the good bits are covered up. I won’t be arrested for public indecency.
God willing no one who sees me will recognize me.
The last thing I need is this getting back to the higher-ups at the hospital. If they received word that one of their doctors was spotted wandering the city wearing nothing but a tiny pair of booty shorts, I’d be looking for another job. They’d think I was drunk or strung out.
But it doesn’t matter if someone does see me. I’d give up my whole career and all the perks that come with it to help Bianca.
Once we bring this to light, Rouge will go to prison for a long, long time. Whatever Bianca found was clearly evidence of something terrible.
I don’t take the main entrance of the hospital, of course. I’d be recognized there. It’s one thing for a guy to wander the streets in his underwear. It’s a whole other thing for him to enter a hospital.
The staff entrance in the back is more private, and a code is required to get inside. I walk over and punch in the numbers. One-eight-seven-one.
Thank God, no one is around. I steal into a medical supplies closet around the corner and throw on a set of scrubs, a medical coat, and a pair of slipper socks. There aren’t any shoes in here, but no one will be paying that much attention to my feet. I hope not, anyway.
I take the elevator to my ward and make my way to the nurses’ station, praying that Dinah is on the clock tonight. I’d hate to have to explain this night to anyone else.
She is. Another stroke of luck.
Her eyes widen as I approach. “Doctor! What are you doing here?”
I lean in, lower my voice. “Can you walk with me toward where we’re keeping our…special guests? It’s been a hell of a night.”
She blinks. “Of course.”
As we walk, I fill her in on the events of the evening.
My disguise as a waitstaff member, my exploration of the club.
I leave out the part where a male patron—Mr. Rose—fondled me in the middle of the Clubs section.
It’s not relevant, and not a memory I’d like to revisit anyway.
I tell her about how we discovered a hidden crawlspace, and how Bianca went in and then rushed me out once she discovered what was in there.
“But you didn’t learn what she saw?”
I shake my head. “All the color had drained from her face. She insisted I leave that very second. She thought I was in danger if I stayed at Aces even another moment.”
“My God.” Dinah swallows. “I can’t even imagine what could be so awful. It couldn’t be more horrifying than that poor girl’s head Alissa and Maddox found in the nature reserve out west.”
“I have no idea. Knowing Rouge Montrose, it could be worse.” I take a deep breath in. “Speaking of Maddox and Alissa, how are they doing?”
She offers a small smile. “They’re okay. Responding to the IV’s well. Maddox is still only conscious for a few minutes at a time, but all his vitals are improving. I checked on them both an hour ago, and they were both sleeping. I think it’s best not to disturb them, let them rest.”
“Agreed. I’ll swing by and check on them in the morning.”
“They’d love that,” Dinah says. “With luck, Maddox will be awake by then. He asked about you the last time he was conscious. I told him you were the one who rescued him.”
“It wasn’t just me. I had you and Bianca with me.”
“Yes, well. You drove.” She grins. “I’m guessing, since you’re without a phone and wallet, that you need me to order you an Uber home.”
“If you don’t mind. I’ll pay you back for it, I swear.”
She rolls her eyes. “Doctor, this one’s on me. You’ve had a hell of a night.”
* * *
The Uber drops me off in front of my house. Never have the words “there’s no place like home” rung so true.
I don’t have my keys, but I keep a spare in a fake rock in the garden behind the house. I walk over to my backyard, find it and open it, and enter through the back door. I quickly disable the security system. Everything is as we left it. No one’s been here.
I let out a sigh of relief as I spot my phone and wallet right where I left them on the kitchen counter. I quickly text Bianca.
Made it home safe. Let me know how you are.
She doesn’t respond immediately, but she’s probably in the middle of her set. She keeps her phone in her dressing room.
I remove the doctor’s coat and scrubs and change into a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. I sit down on my couch, turn on the TV. I’m not watching, but it’s good to have a little white noise to keep me from freaking out about Bianca’s safety.
I have a headache.
Of course I do. It’s been a hell of a night. I can’t remember the last time I drank any water.
I go to the fridge to grab a Gatorade. That’ll help replenish some electrolytes.
But I’m out. Damn.
I keep some in my trunk. We gave one to Alissa after we found her and Maddox at the Caterpillar Hotel.
I grab my keys—also untouched on the counter—and walk out to my garage, pop the trunk.
I grab a red Gatorade. That one always seems to help the most with headaches. Probably just in my head. I’m about to close the trunk when I notice something.
A colorful gift bag.
I spotted it the other night when I was in here grabbing a crowbar to break the door into Alissa’s room—her prison cell, really—at the Caterpillar Hotel. But of course I haven’t given it a second thought after everything that’s gone down.
Maybe Bianca left it for me as a birthday gift?
But she didn’t even know today was my birthday until after we found Maddox and Alissa.
I’m pretty tightlipped about it anyway. It’s connected to the greenest day of the year, St. Patrick’s Day, and I can’t see anything green without thinking about the highlights in Ray Sinclair’s hair that evening at the Dimpsey house. The darkest night of my life.
Until tonight, maybe.
I pull out the gift bag. It’s on the heavy side.
I bring it back into my house and set it on the kitchen table with a thunk. I dig through the tissue paper and pull out an ornately decorated object.
I widen my eyes, set it gingerly on the table.
What the hell?