by Katie Ruggle
John made a thoughtful sound as he backed out of the driveway, his headlights reflecting off the somewhat battered garage door. Now that they were talking about how she and her sisters didn’t really fit in the neighborhood, the differences were more obvious, even under the cover of night. Despite her best efforts to keep up with repairs and maintenance, their house looked shabby and tired next to its polished and perfect neighbors. No wonder everyone in the area—from Mr. P and the Villaneaus to the owner of the hunting resort—had tried to buy it from them.
“I’m surprised Jane didn’t sell it,” John said. He winced slightly afterward, shooting her a sideways look as if checking to see if his comment had offended her.
Molly huffed a short laugh. There wasn’t anything negative he could say about Jane that one or all of her daughters hadn’t at least thought. “Me too. She did get a reverse mortgage on it and stopped making the payments, so it was really close to foreclosure. The bank would have it right now if I hadn’t taken over paying the bills.”
Again, he glanced at her quickly. “How old were you?”
“Too young.” The topic was depressing her and making her anxious at the same time, so she decided to change the subject. “What’s the plan at Dutch’s?”
“Plan?” He went with the abrupt switch in topics smoothly, and she appreciated his tact—or his short attention span. Either way, she breathed a relieved sigh and settled back in her seat as he pulled up to a red stoplight. “We need a plan?”
“Of course we need a plan.” She frowned at his profile. “Several plans, if possible.”
“Huh.” He rubbed his jaw, the rasping sound of the heel of his hand against day-old beard stubble making her shiver. She wasn’t sure if she liked the sound or not. It made her feel overly sensitive, like his rough cheek was brushing the delicate skin over her spine. The mental image immediately sent heat to her face and other places, and she tore her gaze away from him, focusing grimly at the now-green stoplight. “Why?” he asked as he accelerated. She liked how he drove, competent but not cocky, assertive but safe.
“Why? Because we need one! What do you do?” The heat in her cheeks began to gradually subside, although she still didn’t want to risk looking directly at him. He’s like an eclipse, she decided. It was utterly tempting to stare at him, but it was equally dangerous. Carefully keeping her gaze directed through the windshield, she tried to ignore the urge to watch him. “If you don’t have a plan, do you just run in there willy-nilly and hope things work out?”
“There’s no willy-nilly-ness.” That was the John Carmondy she was most familiar with, his faux offense ruined by the amusement clear in his voice. “I just go with the flow.”
“Go with the flow,” she repeated flatly. “I don’t like that plan. That’s how you end up in the dumpster behind Dutch’s, possibly missing some fingers or your tongue.”
He winced, looking a little horrified as he pulled up to the curb and parked in the lot across the street from the bar. “Why would I be missing my tongue? How would a plan protect my tongue?”
“If you fail to plan, you plan to fail, and failing at Dutch’s would be very bad.”
“I still don’t see how my fingers or tongue would be in danger.”
She waved dismissively, remembered her vow to stop doing that, and sat on her hand. She wondered how many times she’d made that gesture without noticing and grimaced. Although she caught John’s curious look as she tucked her fingers beneath her butt, she ignored it. “Arguing about it isn’t going to get us anywhere. I have a plan. Let’s go.”
As she got out of the SUV, she pretended not to hear John’s sputtering noises and bit back a smile. Once she closed the door, she didn’t wait, but strode down the sidewalk toward Dutch’s. Langston didn’t really have an official bad part of town, but the area they were in was probably the least pleasant. Dutch’s was in the industrial east end of Langston, surrounded by warehouses and gated yards enclosed by chain link and razor wire. The streets were dimly lit, the sodium lights spread thin, leaving deeply shadowed sections between the occasional pools of pale illumination.
The boxy buildings and narrow streets, as well as the way the rectangular shadows crept well past the curb into the lane, gave Molly a claustrophobic feel, and she quickened her pace. She didn’t want to say it, but she was glad to have John with her. Although she would’ve hated to pull any of her sisters away from their work finding Jane, Molly would never have ventured into this neighborhood—and definitely not into Dutch’s—alone. She was brave, but she wasn’t stupid.
Before she’d gotten halfway down the block, John caught up with her. “So?” he asked.
“What?”
He huffed impatiently, and she had to hold back another grin. John’s dramatic noises and gestures were unexpectedly endearing, not that she’d ever admit that to him. “What’s the plan?”
“I thought you wanted to willy-nilly it.”
“Not if you have a plan. If there’s a plan, then I want to be part of the plan, and not just find out later that I was an unknowing part of someone else’s machinations. I want to be part of the inner circle.” He sketched a curved line in the air that encompassed both of them.
“Fine.” She sighed, long and audibly, pretending as if she were horribly put-upon. “If Sonny’s there, I’m going to text a couple of deputies to head this way. Then I’m going to get in his face and distract him while you come up behind and cuff him. We’ll take him outside, put our backs to a wall, and wait for the cops to arrive and take him off our hands.”
He was quiet for a few moments before he admitted, “That’s not a bad plan.”
“I’m an excellent plan maker.” She wasn’t going to be modest about one of her few solid skills. “I also have a plan B and a plan C in case something goes awry.”
“Are you going to share with the class?”
They’d almost reached the door of the nondescript building, and a big, crabby-looking guy was watching them approach—the bouncer, Molly guessed. She lowered her voice. “Let’s hope for plan A. Otherwise, just follow my lead.”
Ignoring John’s low groan, Molly pulled her ID from one of her many pockets and extended it to the waiting bouncer. Although he scowled at her, he accepted the driver’s license, his gaze running over her in a way that wasn’t sexual, as if he was evaluating the likelihood that she’d get into a fight. It was a welcome change and a cautiousness that Molly could rally behind, so she stood still and quiet as he finished his assessment. As he handed back her driver’s license, he gave her the smallest, tightest dip of his chin, which she took as approval. Obviously, he couldn’t tell that she tended to tackle people rather regularly.
He regarded John more sourly, and Molly couldn’t blame the bouncer. After all, it was obvious that Carmondy would win whatever brawl he was involved in. For a moment, she wasn’t sure if he’d be allowed in.
“Watch yourself,” the bouncer finally grumbled, and Molly let out a silent breath of relief that she wouldn’t have to go it alone. She slipped past him with John close behind her. Once she’d made it through the narrow entryway that seemed like a fire tragedy waiting to happen, she paused to examine the bar.
From the warehouse-like exterior, she’d expected something huge, but the main section of the bar wasn’t very big. She couldn’t exactly call it cozy, but she could see the entire space from her spot by the entry, even with the low mood lighting. The old-school rock music was loud but not breath-stealing-ly deafening like a club would be. The place was busy but not packed, and the crowd was…interesting. She saw some tatted and pierced twentysomethings, a handful of biker types in their sixties, a couple of hard-faced middle-aged guys in suits at a booth toward the back, and even a couple of people wearing cowboy hats.
“Eclectic place,” John said in her ear, as if he’d read her mind.
“Yeah.” She ignored the brush of his breath acr
oss her ear and the side of her neck, trying to stay focused on their objective. “Do you see him?”
“No.”
On first scan, she didn’t, either, and her heart sank at the death of plan A. It had been such a simple and painless plan, too. On to plan B. Straightening her shoulders, she moved toward the bar. Before she reached it, she caught a flash of movement in the corner of her eye. Swiveling her head around, she grabbed the briefest glimpse of Sonny Zarver before he disappeared down a hallway marked Bathrooms.
“There he is,” John said, but she was already moving, weaving in and out of the crowd toward the spot where Sonny had disappeared. She didn’t want to take the time to text the deputies, worried that he would slip away while she was busy on the phone. John would just have to sit on him while they waited for the cops to arrive. The tiny smile that touched her mouth at the mental image disappeared quickly as the patrons seemed to pack in tighter around her. Over the sound of the music, there was a muttering rumble, and Molly increased her speed, elbowing her way through the thickening crowd. From the glares and sneers being directed her way, she figured this group must be Sonny fans, and the sooner she and John could get out of Dutch’s, the better.
One of the bikers, a guy almost as big as John, stepped into Molly’s path, bringing her to an abrupt halt. With an impatient sound, she tried to skirt around him, but he shifted, blocking her again.
“Move,” she demanded impatiently, locking away the slight tremor of nerves that wanted to make her fingers shake, and the biker narrowed his eyes at her. With him right in front of her and others pressing closer on all sides, Molly felt as if the oxygen in the bar had thinned, and she fought to keep any sign of her growing unease from showing. Although she normally wasn’t claustrophobic, the tension of the crowd, the sour smell of alcohol and anger, seemed to shrink the space. It was too hot, too close. A tickling drop of sweat ran down her lower back.
Before the stranger could say anything, John leaned over her shoulder so that his face was just inches from the biker’s. Molly suddenly felt as if she could take a full breath again. Although John was just slightly taller than the other guy, he managed to loom over him, his expression so ferocious that even Molly had to stop herself from shying away from him, even as she felt the urge to move closer.
The stranger hesitated, his gaze flicking between Molly and John, and she took the opportunity to swerve around his bulk and head for the spot where she’d last seen Sonny. Although it was too loud in the bar to hear anyone’s footsteps, she could feel John at her back, a wall of safety protecting her from the hostile patrons. He’d apparently gotten away from the biker without an unpleasant altercation.
The crowd had massed around the entrance to the bathroom hallway, and Molly muttered rude things under her breath as she worked her way through the throng. She wasn’t sure if the hostile glares she was receiving were because she was chasing Sonny or because she was throwing a thousand fouls worth of elbows. She didn’t care either way, still pressing forward, needing to get clear of the crowd.
A hand on her arm had her swinging around, fist clenched and ready to swing, when she realized that John had her in his grip. She didn’t punch him, but she stayed tense, the aggression of the bar patrons putting her on edge. In just the few seconds she’d stopped pushing forward through the crowd, they’d closed in, one woman even getting close enough to step hard on her foot. Mentally thanking her steel-toed boots, Molly shoved the woman away as John tugged her behind him.
With Carmondy in front, using his significant bulk to clear a path, they moved much more quickly until they reached the hallway where Sonny had disappeared. There were two bathrooms and an emergency-only exit that warned an alarm would sound if the door was opened. Molly was glad to see it, since that meant Sonny had to be in one of the bathrooms. Even with the loud music and the angry mutters of the patrons, she would’ve heard the fire alarm if Sonny had left through that exit.
“Thanks,” Molly said to John once they’d left the worst of the crowd behind. As soon as the press of hostile strangers lightened, her heart rate slowed, and she could take deeper breaths. “Now I know what it’d be like to be mobbed by zombies.” As John chuckled, she felt herself relax slightly, comforted by the warm, familiar sound, and gestured toward the women’s bathroom. “Check the men’s, and I’ll look in here.”
He nodded and turned toward the men’s room as she shoved open the door to the women’s. She entered cautiously, worried that a smaller—but just as angry—crowd of women would be waiting to poke her eyes out with their stilettos or stomp her into the tile with their motorcycle boots. To her relief, the bathroom seemed empty. As the door swung shut, muffling the music from the bar, she eyed the dingy space. Her boots tapped against the worn tiles, her gaze taking in the shadowed stalls and the crack that ran up the dirty, tarnished mirror. She glanced back at the door, tense at the possibility of someone following her into the small room. She could usually hold her own, but there were a lot of people right outside the bathroom who were obviously on Sonny’s side, and she couldn’t fight off an entire mob by herself.
Reaching out, Molly shoved the first stall door open, using a little too much force. The door banged into the partition, making her jump and then feel like an idiot for scaring herself. Shifting to the second stall, she pushed on it more gently this time. The door swung open, revealing a second empty stall, and she exhaled hard, her shoulders relaxing slightly. As she peered around the bathroom again without finding any possible hiding places, she laughed at herself. This search for Sonny was making her ridiculously jumpy.
Cautiously, she cracked the door to the hallway, finding it empty. As she slipped out, the other bathroom door swung open, and she pivoted around to face it, automatically falling into a defensive position. When she realized it was John, she straightened, her fists returning to her sides.
“Nothing?” she asked, even though it was obvious he wasn’t dragging a full-grown man behind him.
“Empty.”
They both turned toward the exit door. “The alarm must be disabled,” Molly said as she hurried over. Despite her certainty, she held her breath as she shoved against the release bar, ready for the piercing squeal of the fire alarm. The door swung open silently, and she stuck her head outside.
The chilly air brushed against her damp face, making her realize how warm the bar was. She peered down the dim alley, checking both directions. Except for the dumpster that she’d warned John about, the narrow lane was empty. Frustration rose in her chest, squeezing her lungs. Sonny’d had too much time to get away. The crowd had succeeded in giving him enough of a head start to escape. Without a direction, Molly knew they had no hope of finding him.
John made an irritated sound, and Molly turned to meet his gaze. “I know. It sucks. At least we know he hasn’t left town…yet. Should we go back and see what we can pry out of the zombies? Someone has to know where he’s been crashing.”
He looked unhappy about this idea. “That’s a pretty hostile bunch. You shouldn’t go back in there.”
Although a big part of her bristled at the implication that she couldn’t take care of herself, an even bigger part was relieved. She didn’t want to question the bar patrons, and John was giving her an out. She’d be an idiot to insist on endangering them for a slight chance that someone in the crowd was willing to talk.
Letting out a disappointed huff of air, she stepped into the alley. When John didn’t immediately follow, she turned to raise a questioning eyebrow. “You weren’t planning on staying, were you?” Her stomach churned with concern at the thought of him alone in Dutch’s. Sure, he was a strong guy, but even he couldn’t fight off dozens of people if they meant him harm. Who knew how many were armed, too. The bouncer hadn’t checked the two of them for weapons, and they weren’t even regulars.
“No.” John finally followed her out, and she released the door so it swung shut behind him. “I was ju
st surprised you didn’t insist on staying.”
She shrugged, not wanting to admit that she’d considered it out of foolish pride, even though it had just been for a moment or two. “I have a greater sense of self-preservation than that.”
“I…” Whatever he had been about to say was lost when his voice trailed off, his eyes locked on the back of a neighboring building. Molly followed his gaze to a door that was cracked open just an inch or two. Turning her head, she exchanged a speaking look with John, and they both moved quietly toward the slightly open door.
“You armed?” he asked so quietly that she could barely hear him.
“Depends how you define arms.” Slipping her Taser from her pants pocket, she held it at her side. “You?”
“No gun.” His gaze stayed fixed on the dark gap between the door and the frame as they moved closer to the building. “I do have arms, though.”
She was pretty sure he flexed, although her attention, like his, was focused on the slightly open door. A touch of amusement ran through her, but it was quickly swallowed by apprehension. Who knew what kind of danger hid in the shadows of the warehouse?
When they were just a few feet from the door, Molly reached her free hand toward the edge, intending to push it open, but there was suddenly a huge man in her way. With a glare at the broad back in front of her, blocking her way and even her view of the entry, she dodged around him, giving him a sharp elbow in the side. Even if he was just trying to be chivalrous, it was still a ridiculous thing to do.
Easing the door open, she took a cautious step inside, grateful for John’s watchful presence at her back. The murky ambient light illuminated the interior just enough to see shadows and forms. Dust and the lingering hint of old chemicals prickled her nose. Before she could take a second step, a darting movement caught her attention. Molly sucked in a startled breath and spun to face the threat, her entire focus on who—or what—was in the dark space with them. Before she could race after whoever it was, the world behind them lit up, whiting out her vision. She didn’t have time to think or plan or even duck before a ferocious boom sounded, so loud that she felt it through her entire body.