Chapter Twenty-One #2
This kept things personal.
Instead of about, I imagined, the whole office incident.
“Tell me, Frank, how long did the women who sang before me last after they fucked you?”
He stiffened at the word.
Because I’d always been nothing but sweet and flirty, never vulgar, around him.
“That has nothing to do with it.”
“It has everything to do with it. I’m here because I needed a job. Job security is kind of the name of the game.”
“We’re wasting time,” the guy behind me said.
Frank’s eyes flicked up to him.
If I hadn’t been watching so closely, I might have missed it. The way fear sliced across his face.
Oh.
So that was it.
He wasn’t in charge here.
Milo mentioned that Remo figured there might be someone pulling Frank’s strings.
These guys that I didn’t recognize, they must have belonged to whoever that shadowy guy was.
That made this even more dangerous.
“Oh,” I said, brows raising as I looked at Frank. “So, you’re not actually in charge here, are you? Wow. That must… sting a little, huh?”
“We gotta get this over with,” the man behind me said, reaching toward me, and it took actual effort not to flinch or yelp.
But he only reached for my purse, dragging it off my shoulder, and pulling my phone out before tossing the bag to the floor.
It landed next to the pit boss.
“Unlock it,” the man demanded, thrusting my real phone at me.
“What do you think you’re going to find in here?” I asked, typing in my code. “My super-secret plans to take the casino out from under Frank?”
I rolled my eyes at him.
He ignored me as he started swiping around on my phone.
He wouldn’t find anything.
A couple of awkward texts with my mom. Maybe the occasional Happy Birthday! or congratulatory message to the other models I used to work with. Pictures of my cat. Screenshots of things I wanted to buy but couldn’t afford. A few listings for jobs.
I led an incredibly boring personal life.
If he was looking for the smoking gun, he would only find it shoved in a secret pocket on my side. So I made sure to keep that arm casually down.
“So, what is it, Frank?” I asked while the other guy was distracted.
“Gambling? I mean, that would be so cliché, given this place. Ponies? Sports? No,” I said, thinking of his pack-rat office, of the hallways lined with boxes.
“No. You’re addicted to shopping. Wow. Men in women’s fields,” I said, getting a huff of laughter out of the other woman.
Frank was tomato-red.
I knew I’d hit the nail on the head.
“What’d you have to do? Borrow money to keep this place afloat?”
“When did you become such a bitch?” Frank asked, tone hollow.
“Gee, I don’t know. When you had me grabbed and dragged into a back room? Maybe then.”
“There’s nothing here,” the man said, tossing the phone. It landed with a cracking sound that would have had my heart plummeting just a week or two ago, knowing I couldn’t afford to replace it. Such a small concern in the grand scheme of things now. “Who the fuck are you working with?”
His hand shot out so quickly that I couldn’t move back or duck. His fingers closed around my throat, grabbing hard, yanking me forward like a damn rag doll.
My hand went up automatically, clawing at his hand as my breath caught in my lungs, as my head felt light, and my lips went tingly.
My mouth opened and closed like a fish.
“How’s she going to answer if you’re choking her, idiot?” the pit boss asked.
The man watched me for a second more, his dark eyes like pits, with no soul behind them at all.
Then he released me, took a step to the side, and backhanded the other woman so hard she flew off the chair.
I gasped for breath, tears stinging my eyes as I furiously tried to blink them back.
On the ground, the other woman dripped blood from her split lip onto the concrete floor.
She made no move to get up.
But her gaze was fiery, furious when it met mine.
Then the guy was back, grabbing me and shoving me down onto the other metal chair. The pain ricocheted up my back, making me think my butt was going to be bruised from the impact.
“Who are you working with?” he roared.
The sound made me jolt, but I angled my head up, chin defiant.
“I work for Frank.”
I guess I didn’t expect the strike to come so fast, so hard. But his fist collided with my jaw. It may as well have been concrete with how hard it was, how much it hurt.
“Hey, I don’t want her all bloody when I get to her,” Frank grumbled, sounding like a petulant child throwing a fit. A fit that he would have to look at a little blood on my face when he raped me.
How was this real life?
How did I work for such a monster?
Pain pulsed.
I could hardly think past it.
But a movement caught my eye.
The pit boss was trying to inch toward me.
I gave a small shake of my head that the men would take for a reaction to the punch. But it stopped her cold.
I glanced toward the purse, back to her, then the purse again, before settling on her, willing her to know what I was telling her to do.
Get in there.
Get the damn door lock.
Did I have high hopes for us fighting our way out of this? No. But it was better than sitting around being tortured for hours.
Her hand inched slowly toward my bag, so I glanced back up at my attacker, hoping to distract him.
“It takes a really small man to feel big by hitting little women,” I said, the words sounding funny as my lip started to swell up. “You must be… tiny.”
I braced for the strike, but he grabbed me by my hair, yanking so hard I was surprised he didn’t break it all off.
Pain sliced across my scalp, made my eyes water, but I kept my gaze on his.
“A little too true, huh?”
“Who do you work for?”
“I guess this is as good a time as any to hand in my resignation. So… no one currently.”
I didn’t see the next blow coming.
But because he’d dropped his hold on my hair, I moved instinctively, making his blow hit me near my temple instead of the cheek he was aiming for.
It felt like my skull shattered.
Like the fragments sliced into my brain.
My vision went wobbly, then flickered black before settling again.
The knock caught us all by surprise, making everyone jolt and straighten.
“Well, get it,” the man hissed as his hand shot out, closing around my mouth.
Frank looked around, eyes wild, but did as he was told, slipping out the smallest gap in the door that he could manage.
“You’re gonna talk,” he snarled at me. “Or we’ll all take turns on you at the same time until you’re screaming your boss’s name. But know this: he can’t save you.”
Frank popped his head in. “I need to do something.”
“Five minutes,” the man holding me barked.
“Right. Yeah. Okay.”
I glanced over at Frank, wondering what look I’d find on his face.
I swore I did see regret there.
But it was masked by a lot of resignation.
He was going to let this happen.
The door closed, and he released my face, but with enough force that I wobbled.
I let myself fall.
And caught the pit boss’s gaze.
She looked toward the chair I’d just fallen off of, then back at me.
A weapon, she seemed to say, even as she tightened her hold on the metal door lock.
One, she mouthed. Two. Three.
She shot up first, making the other man to yell out and causing my attacker to turn.
I jumped up, grabbing the legs of the chair, then swinging with everything I had toward the guy’s head.
He went down.
Not fully.
Just to his knees, wobbling a bit, cursing in pain, but still conscious.
My gaze lifted, watching as the other woman swung the lock into the other man’s face.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The cracks turned my stomach.
Blood splattered.
Then one more swing.
And the guy crashed down hard.
My attacker started to rise to his feet, to charge at her.
I flew at him, knocking him forward onto all fours.
And she raised the lock one more time.
It came down with a sound that I would never forget as long as I lived.
But the guy?
He went flat.
“We gotta go,” she said, still holding the bloody lock as she ran toward the hall.
“There’s a door here.”
“There’s a dumpster across it from outside,” she said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me with her to the hall door.
She ran out, her body half-bent to one side, like something was wrong with her midsection. Her ribs, maybe?
She paused halfway down the hall, going up to the fire alarm, pulling up the plastic cover, then pulling the lever.
The sound was instant and ear-splitting.
But we were running again, heading toward the closest exit.
We burst outward just as the casino emptied out, hundreds of people running onto the Boardwalk.
It wasn’t long before bodies crushed around us, before someone shoved me hard enough that my wrist broke free from her hold and I threw my hands up to stop my fall.
It was chaos then, with people nearly trampling me until one young guy hauled me up onto my feet again.
I looked around, frantic, trying to find that mass of unique hair of hers.
But I didn’t see her.
And I was still way, way too close to the casino.
I had to run.
I had to get safe.
I couldn’t go home. Frank knew where I lived.
And I didn’t want to go to the hotel in case someone was following me. I would accidentally lead them right to Milo.
Think.
I had to think.
I had no cash, no cards, no payment apps on my burner phone.
But this town was full of places to hide out.
I just had to get to one.
Preferably one nowhere near the casino.
Then I could call Milo.
So I just ran. And ran. And ran.
My lungs burned.
My jaw screamed.
And a migraine was splitting my skull apart.
I saw the parking garage up ahead.
Not the one that I’d been in with Remo.
This one connected to that one by a glass catwalk. It was for valet parking, and I charged at it, not even moving the fence barrier, just squeezing in past it, feeling it slice my skin in the process.
I ran upward.
One floor.
Two.
Then made my way toward the valet booth, going inside, slamming the door, then dropping down onto the filthy ground, pulling my knees to my chest.
My hand shoved down my dress, grabbing my phone, but I was breathing too hard to make the call for a long moment.
I was still panting when I heard his voice.
“Roe? Are you alright? There’s a fire at—”
“Milo,” I cried.
“Where are you?”
“Valet parking garage. But be careful, he knows… he knows I was…”
“It doesn’t matter. He’s not going to get to you.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that he already had. He’d find out soon enough.
“Okay,” I said, then hung up so he wouldn’t hear me as I finally lost the battle with my tears and started to cry.
I didn’t expect them to come in like an action movie, cars knocking down the fences, tires squealing as they took the corners to come up to the second floor.
Then I heard doors.
Four of them, I think.
I stayed exactly where I was, paranoid that it was the other guys.
“Roe? Baby, come out,” Milo called.
I sucked in a steady breath and got to my feet.
I slid open the door.
Stepped outside.
The headlights were on me, making all of them fall into shadow, but giving them all a good view of me and my messed-up face.
“Fuck,” Milo said.
“That motherfucker,” Remo snarled.
Milo rushed to me, wrapping his arms around me gently, like he was afraid to hurt me anymore.
“Wait,” I called when Remo turned and stormed back to his car. “Wait. We need to talk first.”