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“That’s my cue,” she said and made sure she gave the giant a wide berth as she joined Mickey. “You have a great night, John.”
“I will. I enjoyed your fight,” he said and gave her a thumbs up.
She stared at him for a moment before she walked down the hallway with Mickey. She stopped in the bathroom to wash the blood off her hands, which were already bruised from beating up Khalid.
“What the hell happened?” Mickey hissed. “I’ve been going crazy, looking for you everywhere.”
“One of the girls was attacked by Wotherton’s son-in-law.”
Mickey cursed. “I saw them carry him out. I was hoping you had nothing to do with it.”
“I need to talk to Kiki.”
An hour later, she left Kiki with four security guards who would stop her from hunting down that worthless SOB. They’d taken away her weapons and extracted a promise from her to check on Baby Doll tomorrow. Fucking rich pricks thought every woman was fair game …
Carmen embraced the slap of cold air as they walked out the back door of the club. It was almost three in the morning. She debated whether to give Angel a heads-up. What if he sided with the Wothertons? She couldn’t handle another disappointment tonight. If Marcus heard about this, he wouldreallythink she was uncivilized. She was barbaric, vengeful, savage—all the emotions he was too refined to feel. She clung to anger because it was easier to handle.
“Let’s get you home,” Mickey said as they weaved between the cars.
She glanced at him over the top of a BMW. “I’m driving to California.”
Baby Doll getting mouth raped was the final straw. She needed to get out of town and regroup. She needed the sun, sand, and ocean.
“Come on, Carmen. I’m sure you can figure it out with Marcus.”
“I don’twantto figure it out with Marcus,” she snapped as she rounded a vintage Mustang. They had been forced to park in the last row, and the light wasn’t good. She could still hear the deafening beat emanating from the club. She should install some lights out here.
“Whatever happened, you guys can—”
There was an all-too-familiar popping sound. Mickey dropped even as someone grabbed her hair from behind and yanked viciously. Blade and her father’s training took over. She trapped the man’s hand on her head and tipped forward to break his hold and put him in an arm lock. She managed to dislocate his shoulder before someone bear hugged her from behind and lifted her into the air. She kicked off an SUV and launched them both backward. The man lost his breath as they crashed into a car. She broke his grip and rolled under a truck. Motorcycle boots jostled for position. Fuck. There were too many of them, and she had no weapon.
A man ducked to look under the truck. She threw a handful of gravel in his face before she rolled out and ran toward the building. She focused on the back door and ran for her life. A body slammed into her before she could reach the circle of red lights surrounding the club. Her ribs protested as she was crushed beneath a heavy body.
“Payback’s a bitch,” a man panted in her hair.
“No shit.”
He flipped her on her back. The punch knocked her head against the pavement. White stars flashed behind her eyes, and her ears began to ring. Through watery eyes, she recognized the man from the club who had been glaring at her.
“Roman’s not going to recognize you when we’re through with you,” he said and hit her again.
The cheap metal crucifix nestled between her breasts cut into her skin. When he drew back his fist again, she grasped the cross between her fingers and struck. A metal point sliced the fragile skin of his throat. He lurched back and made a choking sound. She swiped again and was rewarded with a gush of warm blood. She shoved him off and scrambled toward the lights, but she didn’t make it. A man barreled into her, and she tumbled across concrete. Before she could get her bearings, another man was on her. A boot in her abdomen made her retch before she was shoved on her back. A biker sat on her stomach and gripped her by the throat. The man choked her while another stomped on her wrist.
“Hurry up before somebody comes!” a man said.
She clawed and kicked, all to no avail. Through the panic, she felt a prick in her arm. Oh, God. A needle. What were they shooting her up with? It could be anything. Maybe it was Clorox or a lethal dose of …
Her cold, desperate, terrifying world disappeared. The hand disappeared from her throat, and she took a deep breath. Her heart soared as euphoria chased away every other emotion. She felt as if she was flying even though she could feel the unforgiving pavement beneath her. The behemoth sitting on top of her disappeared. The shadows that gathered around her didn’t matter. Nothing did because there was no pain, only happiness and freedom. One of the men with blurred faces pulled something out of his jacket. She grinned at him and spread her arms wide, ready to receive sweet relief.
“Now that’s a foul,” a familiar voice said. “Ten against one is just bad sportsmanship.”
There was a strange popping sound as her assailant’s head whipped to the side at a strange angle that made her giggle. There were shouts and a series of muted gunshots. From her position, she watched a pair of shiny gentleman’s shoes dance with biker and combat boots. It was a mesmerizing sight. Men began to hit the ground with stunning force, so much so that she felt as if the ground was rocking beneath her. Bodies lay in odd, almost poetic angles that her buzzing brain wanted to investigate more thoroughly. She heard grunts, wheezing, and screaming, which were quickly cut off. She was very aware of a rock digging into her spine, but she didn’t have the strength to shift an inch to the left.
The fancy shoes, now covered in blood, came in her direction. The shoes were taking too long to reach her, so she stared up at the inky black sky as she waited. She wished she could fall into it. A man knelt beside her. She tried to focus on his face, which slid in and out of focus. Her body began to shake uncontrollably. Her pulse was racing out of control. She reached for him to anchor herself as her world pitched from side to side. Her body burst out in goose bumps as her body flushed with heat and was chased by an icy cold that made her teeth chatter.
John Smith’s face appeared for a second before her eyes dilated, and his face turned back into a blob of color. Above him, the Aurora Borealis ripped across the sky. She opened her mouth to tell John to look, but she couldn’t get her tongue to work.
John said something, but she couldn’t hear anything other than the sound of her own heartbeat. He lifted her. She flapped her arms, so she wouldn’t drown. She landed on something soft and slippery. Familiar scents she couldn’t place teased her nostrils. She heard a roar and whatever she was lying on shifted. She fell off the soft thing and landed on something hard that didn’t smell nice. She flailed and tried to find something to hold, but her eyes wouldn’t focus, and her body wasn’t listening to her. After an eternity, she decided to give in and float.
