Page 7 of Property of Rattler

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.