Relentless

by Sybil Bartel

  But I’d played my best move.

  I told her how we first met, and she’d said nothing. Not one goddamn word.

  Palming my keys, I unlocked the Escalade and got behind the wheel.

  Close door.

  Key in ignition.

  Turn engine over.

  Shift.

  Drive.

  Five fucking steps. That’s all I had to do.

  Drive the fuck away, Knight.

  Call Luna and have him put someone else on her and drive.

  “Fuck!” Slamming my hand on the steering wheel, I yanked the door shut and jammed the key in the ignition.

  But then I couldn’t do it.

  I couldn’t drive away.

  “Goddamn you, Fallon Amherst.”

  MY HEART RACING, MY CHEST hurting, I watched him, the blond-haired boy who’d turned into a man. His shoulders wide and proud, his body nothing like that of the emaciated child I’d first laid eyes on, his six-foot-two frame so unbelievably muscular and healthy, he walked down the stairs of the VIP section.

  Dolphin Boy.

  Dolphin Boy.

  Oh dear God, I’d slept with him.

  “Can I get you something else, Mrs. Amherst?” the bartender asked.

  His smile.

  How did I not know his smile?

  I’d dreamed about his smile. I’d held it in my heart for eleven long years.

  Dolphin Boy.

  “Mrs. Amherst?”

  Fighting to catch my breath, horrified that I’d not only slept with him, but that it’d been the best night of my life, I spared the bartender a glance.

  I was a horrible person.

  I’d slept with a man I knew as a child.

  A man who knew Summer. Who knew Leo.

  Oh God. My breath short, my chest hurt.

  “You okay, Mrs. Amherst?” the bartender asked.

  I was no longer thinking of retribution, obsessed with returning a laptop to a bad man and washing my hands of a daughter who was never mine.

  I was thinking of redemption.

  My head was spinning, and all I wanted to do was redeem myself for sleeping with a child who’d been a part of my charity organization, but there was nothing I could do that would take away last night.

  It’d happened.

  Just like Leo had happened, and Summer, and this whole mess she’d created, and all of the people involved, it’d all happened.

  But maybe I could make it stop happening.

  Maybe putting myself in the line of fire for once, instead of letting everything around me happen, would change this horrible downward spiral my life had become.

  Praying I appeared calm, I looked at the bartender. “Is Julio Estevez here tonight? I would like to speak to him.”

  Something close to fear traveled across the bartender’s face before he shook his head. “Sorry. Haven’t seen him.” He turned to leave.

  The tightness in my chest increased to the point of pain. “Do you know when he’ll be in?”

  The bartender exhaled, then looking left before looking right, he leaned over the bar and inclined his chin, gesturing for me to come closer.

  I leaned in.

  Brown hair, warm brown eyes, he looked at me with utter sincerity. “I’m only going to say this once, and if you repeat it, I’ll tell TMZ you pounded seven drinks before fucking your twenty-year-old boy toy in the bathroom.”

  Shocked, my mouth opened on a gasp.

  “Save it,” he warned, mistaking my stunned reaction for the start of a verbal lashing. “There’s nothing you can do to me that could touch what Estevez is capable of. So trust me when I tell you to walk the hell out of here and never look back. Stay far, far away from Estevez and his men and be glad as hell you happened to come in here when Estevez hasn’t been here in a couple nights.” Leaning up, he smiled wide and laughed like we’d just shared a private joke. “Have a great night, Mrs. Amherst.” He turned his attention to another customer.

  My breath short, my chest feeling like it was about to implode, I turned to leave.

  A man in black leather with dead eyes caught my arm. “Going somewhere?”

  FIVE MINUTES.

  I scrubbed a hand over my face.

  Six minutes.

  She didn’t come out of the club.

  Seven minutes.

  Shit.

  I shot off a text to Luna.

  Me: We have a problem.

  Luna replied almost instantly.

  Luna: ?

  Me: Fallon Amherst isn’t leaving the club.

  And I wasn’t sure I should be the one to drag her out right now.

  Luna: Jesucristo. Get her out of there. She’s at ground zero.

  A text came in from Tyler.

  Tyler: You’ve got a problem. Two ninjas. Back alley of the club. Alerting Luna.

  Fuck, FUCK.

  I texted Luna.

  Me: Estevez’s men are here.

  Luna: OMW. Six minutes out.

  Me: Copy that. Going inside.

  Yanking the key out of the ignition, I sprinted back to the club. The bouncer in front saw me coming and lifted the rope. Aiming for the VIP section, I rushed inside but fucking froze three paces in.

  A guy in black had his hand around Fallon’s arm as he dragged her down the stairs.

  Motherfucker.

  Scanning for any more of Estevez’s men, forcing myself to remember Luna’s training, I didn’t go straight for the asshole and pound his fucking face in. I quickly cataloged and weighed my options. The crush of bodies dancing all around us, the potential for collateral damage, the likelihood of getting stuck in a rushing crowd… I made the only move I had.

  I stepped in front of them and raised my voice to be heard over the heavy bass.

  “Let her go,” I warned the prick.

  Looking two lifetimes past giving a single fuck, the asshole barely acknowledged me. “Move.”

  Cursing myself for not listening to Luna and carrying my damn gun everywhere I went, I took note of the piece tucked on the left side of his waistband under his open leather jacket. “Not happening.”

  The asshole paused and really looked at me. “Unless you’ve got the laptop, fuck off.”

  Laptop?

  Daring to take my eyes off him, I glanced at Fallon.

  Deathly pale, her free hand on her chest, she looked like she was about to collapse. Worse, she looked fucking checked out.

  Luna still three minutes out, not wanting to start a fight in the middle of the club, trying to play it safe when all I wanted to do was lay the piece of shit out, I stalled. “What laptop?”

  “Move.” Still holding Fallon in a death grip, he stepped to my left.

  No hesitation, exactly how Ty had taught me, I hit the side of the asshole’s neck, striking his vagus nerve.

  The prick’s eyes rolled back, and he dropped to his knees.

  Grabbing Fallon, I sidestepped the asshole as he face-planted.

  Three women dancing near us screamed and pushed away.

  It had a domino effect.

  The tide shifted, and shit fucking imploded. Crushed by rushing bodies, everything around us erupted into pandemonium.

  Fallon cried out, gripping her chest with both hands.

  Shoving everyone out of their way, two pissed-off security guards rushed us.

  Grabbing Fallon, I turned us away from the security guards coming at us, but it put us in the thick of the crowd aiming for the front entrance that was now behind us. “We need to move, now.”

  Her feet planted, she stared at the asshole on the ground. “Is he the one who shot Summer?”

  “We’ll talk later.” Grabbing her waist, I put her in front of me and propelled us forward through the throng of people toward the rear exit. “You gotta move faster.” I had about two fucking seconds before the security guard radioed in for backup.

  “I-I can’t.” She clutched at her chest like she was in pain.

  “Picking you up,” I warned, reaching f
or her.

  “No!” she protested, jerking out of my grasp.

  I glanced over my shoulder. Shit. “Keep going, babe.” Two paces back, touching a comm in his ear, the security guard pointed at me.

  Fallon moved, but she didn’t pick up the pace.

  Silently cursing, propelling her through the crowd, we got as far as the back hallway that led to the rear exit.

  The door burst open and Luna, then Talon, strode in.

  Luna’s gaze met mine.

  Gripping Fallon’s waist, I jerked my chin over my shoulder.

  Nodding, Luna’s hand went to his piece, and he turned to say something to Talon.

  Talon’s gaze went behind me, then he held up three fingers and raised his eyebrows.

  I looked over my shoulder.

  Fuck.

  The asshole was back. A few yards behind the security staff, looking pissed as hell, the guy was aiming at us.

  “Brown hair, black outfit, coming at us,” I warned Luna.

  “Copy.” Luna eyed the guy. “How many more?”

  “Tyler said he saw two on the security feeds, but who the fuck knows how many staff here were on Estevez’s payroll.”

  “Talerco and I will handle it. Get her out of here.” Luna moved past us.

  “What up, Tripod? Causing trouble?” Grinning, Talerco lifted his chin and nodded casually at the assholes behind us like the shit wasn’t hitting the fan. “Mr. Ninja back there doesn’t look too happy.”

  “Took him down with a vagus nerve hit. Didn’t last long.”

  Talon chuckled. “Never does, but nice.” He clapped me on the shoulder with the hand that wasn’t casually holding his gun before glancing at Fallon. “Miss Amherst, a pleasure.”

  Still holding her chest, staring at the exit, she didn’t respond.

  Talon frowned. Then he looked over my shoulder. “Patrol!”

  Luna glanced back at us.

  “You got this?” Talon asked, shoving his gun in his back waistband.

  “Affirmative,” Luna clipped, intercepting one of the security guards.

  Talon took Fallon’s arm. “What’s goin’ on, sweetheart?”

  I answered for her. “She’s been clutching her chest.”

  “I’m… fine,” she panted, trying to pull out of Talon’s grip.

  Talon frowned. “Sweating, blurred vision, shortness of breath?” he asked Fallon, rattling off the questions. “Weakness in your arm? Nausea? Any confusion?”

  She shoved uselessly at Talon’s hand still on her arm. “No.”

  More alarmed than I was a second ago, I looked at Talerco. “She’s short of breath.”

  Talon nodded at me, then bent his knees so he was eye level with her. “Listen up, darlin’. Knight’s gonna—”

  A scream ripped down the hall, breaking the pounding bass.

  Both Talon and I turned as the asshole in leather picked up a girl and threw her out of his way.

  Luna, the two security guards, and the prick in leather collided, and all hell broke loose as the back exit door banged open and two more security guards rushed in.

  Talerco moved.

  Pushing Fallon against the wall, he stood in front of her like a human shield as the two new guards rushed past us.

  “Shit,” Talon muttered, stepping back as he glanced first toward Luna then at me, giving me a pointed look. “Get her to the ER. Tell them potential cardiac arrest.” He ran after the two security guards into the club.

  Palming my keys, trying not to fucking panic, I put my arm around Fallon. “Come on, babe. Let’s get you out of here.”

  “Thom—” Her voice broke a split second before her knees gave out.

  Catching her, I picked up the nothing weight of Fallon Amherst.

  MY CHEST BURNING WITH TIGHTNESS, the air in my lungs nonexistent, I panted through short breaths until I heard the Southern-accented man say cardiac arrest.

  I called out for him, for the boy who’d changed my world, and my knees buckled.

  Huge, strong arms caught me, and I was lifted.

  My head swam, and my vision tunneled.

  “I gotcha.” Dolphin Boy picked me up and rushed to the exit. “Slow breaths,” he calmly ordered as he strode out of the club.

  I focused on his face.

  “Come on, baby, breathe it out,” he clipped, worry crowding his harsh command.

  A short breath fought with my protesting lungs, and my ears started to ring.

  “Don’t you dare pass out on me,” he chided, sounding a thousand miles away.

  I keep staring.

  His face, his unshaven jaw, his hard eyes.

  The ringing got louder.

  “Fallon?”

  My eyes drooped.

  “Fallon.”

  The deafening noise of the pounding music replaced with ringing, I barely heard him as too little of the humid night air I desperately needed barely filtered into my lungs.

  “Stay with me.” My body jostled as if I’d been shaken.

  God, I wanted to go to sleep.

  I wanted to go to sleep staring at this man.

  This muscular man.

  He wasn’t a boy.

  He wasn’t sick.

  He wasn’t the boy I gave the dolphin to.

  “Come on, sweetheart, almost to the car,” he coaxed as if he did this all the time. “Take a deep breath.”

  His voice closer, his scent closer, everything closer, it was as if my body knew he was there, and I inhaled. My chest burned, my body hurt, but air filled my lungs.

  “That’s it.” He held me tighter and dipped his head to my shoulder as if hugging me. “Another one. For me, baby. Come on.”

  I inhaled again.

  “Good girl.” His lips touched my forehead as he strode with purpose.

  “Scared.” The single word escaped before I could stop it.

  “I promise I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” Holding me with more compassion and strength than my husband ever had, he confidently walked around the side of the club and crossed the street. “Almost to the SUV, sweetheart. Keep breathing,” he calmly urged. “We’ll have you at the hospital in a few minutes.”

  The receding tide of panic came back like a tidal surge.

  “No.” My breath went short and fast as anxiety spread like wildfire. “Can’t,” I managed as my fingers started to curl inward like claws. I couldn’t go to the hospital. I wasn’t having a heart attack. I couldn’t be, I was too young. This wasn’t a heart attack, I told myself.

  Glancing down at my hands, his eyebrows drew together. “You need to breathe, babe. A few deep breaths will keep you from hyperventilating. Trust me.” Unlocking the SUV with the key fob in his hand, he opened the passenger door while still holding me. “In you go.” Gently settling me in the seat, he pulled the seat belt out and clipped me in before putting his hand on my shoulder. “Come on, deep breath for me, then I’ll take you in, but I need you to slow that breathing down first.”

  His touch sent a shiver down my arm. “I’m… fine.” I desperately tried for a deeper breath. “No hospitals.”

  Not acknowledging me, his eyebrows drawn together, he squeezed my shoulder. “Another deep breath.”

  More dominant than someone his age had a right to be, he issued the order as if I would obey. Shockingly, unlike any words Leo had ever thrown at me, my body responded to Thomas’s command and I took a deeper, slower breath.

  “That’s it.” He nodded, his youth making him prettier than any man had a right to be.

  I should’ve been insulted. Being told what to do by someone young enough to be my son. But I shamelessly wasn’t. I was ignoring who he was, and I was holding on to his attention like a lifeline.

  “One more,” he commanded before glancing at two motorcycles pulling up to the front of the club. Frowning, his gaze on the black motorcycles, he took his cell out. “Keep that breathing slowed down for me.” Closing the door, his eyes trained on the men on the bikes, he made a call as he ro
unded the front of the Escalade.

  Following his gaze, I looked at the two men who were dressed similarly to the man upstairs at the club. Anxiety gripped my chest as Thomas got behind the wheel with his phone to his ear.

  “This is Thomas Knight calling in for backup, who’s this?” His frown deepened as he started the SUV. “Apologies, I didn’t recognize the voice. I’m at Club Frenzy, heading to Miami General ER with a client.”

  “No,” I protested as one of the men on the motorcycles looked directly at us, then gestured to the other motorcyclist.

  Staring at the same thing I was, Thomas Knight hit a button on the steering wheel and tossed his phone in the center console. “Speaker,” he warned the person on the line as he threw the Escalade into gear. “Client in the vehicle.”

  “Copy that,” a deep voice replied. “I have Luna and Talerco currently at the same location with Tyler en route. Coordinate?”

  “No can do. They’re inside. I can’t wait, and Tyler will be needed there.” Thomas pulled into evening traffic, and the two motorcyclists spun their bikes around. “I’ve got two of Estevez’s men on my tail. I need backup STAT.”

  The sound of typing on a computer sounded through the car’s speakers as Thomas stepped on the gas.

  The man on the other end of the line spoke again. “Everyone in the field is accounted for, but I’m on my way.” Keys jingled. “Do I need to bring anyone in from off duty for additional backup?”

  One of the motorcyclists pulled up right beside us with a gun in his hand.

  “Thomas!” I gasped in fear.

  “Report,” the man on the phone demanded.

  Buckling his seat belt, Thomas swerved toward the motorcyclist. “No, just you, but let Luna know I’ve got two of Estevez’s men on us.”

  “Copy, texting now.”

  The man on the bike fell back, then came right up to my window again and aimed at me.

  “He has a gun!” I screamed.

  “I know, babe, I know.” Thomas gunned it, then cut a hard left at the next intersection across three lanes of traffic.

  “Location and route,” the man on the phone barked as horns honked, tires screeched, and cars slid around us.

  Stepping on the gas as he came out of the turn, Thomas rattled off the street name. “Heading north until I reach the causeway then cutting back south on US 1 to the Forty-One.”