9
“Relax, you look fine,” Morris said as we approached the nightclub. Even from the parking lot, I could hear music booming from inside.
“I am relaxed,” I snapped, glaring at him.
“Then why does your outfit keep changing every few seconds,” he asked innocently, but the devil in his eyes made me think he wasn’t quite as innocent as he was pretending to be.
“It’s an experimental suit. It changes outfits on a whim,” I replied, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans as my top rippled and changed once again, this time into a low cut black blouse that somehow showed off my assets despite my natural lack of curves.
“Mmm hmm,” Morris mumbled, glancing over at me as we were about to round the corner and step in front of the building. Even in the low light, this graffiti seemed a little different from the markings on all the other buildings. Something about it seemed more, I don’t know, done on purpose?
“You think I want my outfit to keep changing?” I muttered as my clothing morphed into a black dress that fell to just above my knees and my boots changed into a pair of heels midstride. I stumbled, reaching out and grabbing onto Morris’s arm. He smirked, pulling me close to his body. The sudden nearness of him was unnerving, and as I tried to pull myself away from him, we stepped into the well-lit area in front of the club.
“You must want to change subconsciously, or it wouldn’t keep doing it. Try not to let it change while anyone is watching,” he whispered, breath hot on my ear as he leaned down close to me and spoke. “Also, remind me to pick up some lingerie catalogs… No reason in particular.”
My cheeks burst into flames as I shook him away. I’d like to say I’d have said something, but his leering gaze made me suddenly speechless though I don’t know why. Still, the idea that he was thinking about me that way was a little… I don’t know… It wasn’t like I found Morris attractive or anything. He was too tall for one and rather scrawny for two. He wasn’t musclebound like the other agents I’d met out on assignment. Then again, he had said he wasn’t much of a field agent. Was that why he wasn’t built like a Greek God?
I pushed the thought away as Morris watched me with his cool blue eyes before turning toward the doorman and waving at him.
“Hey Dimitri, how goes it?” he asked, clapping a big burly man with a goatee and muscles big enough to scare a professional wrestler into submission on the shoulder. The man narrowed his hard gray eyes on Morris and snorted.
“You aren’t supposed to come around here anymore, Morris,” Dimitri said in a voice that reminded me of legitimate tough guys in movies. It was made my knees quake even though I was pretty sure I could throw him through the glass wall behind him with minimal effort.
Morris said something I didn’t catch and held out a handful of euros. I wasn’t quite sure how much it was, but it must have done the trick because the next thing I knew, Dimitri was waving us around the throng of people clustered outside. It seemed a little weird for there to still be a line since we were coming up on 2 AM, and this place supposedly closed at 4 AM. So why the line? Shouldn’t most people have given up by now?
We were ushered inside, and the music hit me in the ears like an explosion. It was so loud, I could barely even think. I was glad Morris seemed to know where he was going as he dragged me forward into the club. He stopped suddenly and shifted his weight, suddenly writhing in front of me like a badly oiled robot. I stared at him wide-eyed as his smile dropped.
“You better dance with me, Abby. Otherwise, we’ll look suspicious,” he said, leaning down and practically screaming in my ear as he wrapped one hand around my waist and pulled me close to his body.
He laughed as the horrible truth of his revelation dawned on me. I looked around, eyes going wide with fright. We were standing in the center of the dance floor with people going crazy all around us. It was nuts. I screamed. I couldn’t help it. I had no idea how to dance, and as Morris gyrated around me, I had the sudden urge to knee him in the groin and run away. I didn’t, but it was a near thing.
“What are you doing?” I called but he just shrugged at me and pointed to his ears with one hand, indicating he couldn’t hear me. It was in that moment I knew I hated him, a lot.
I started to shuffle along with the beat for lack of anything else to do and because people were starting to watch me. I didn’t quite know how I was supposed to dance to Euro-pop but somehow moving came naturally to me. The next thing I knew, there was a wide circle around me as I shifted through a series of complex dance steps I didn’t even know I knew how to do.
A six-foot plus man with long blond hair and a white suit jacket open to reveal a chest covered with very nice to look at muscle stepped up to me and pushed Morris out of the way. He started to dance with me, moving to the beat along with me like we’d been dancing forever. I wasn’t quite sure why, but I started doing even more difficult moves, and the man kept up with me. It was kind of awesome.
He sidled forward in a flourish and hoisted me into the air as we spun toward the DJ. The music built to a crescendo, the beats becoming quicker and louder as we moved until crashing to a stop at once.
There was a pause between songs, and the silence seemed deafening and oppressive probably because it seemed all the people in the club were gawking and pointing at us. I looked around for Morris but couldn’t find him among the throng of people. The man stood up and took my hand, bringing it to his lips with a flourish.
He leaned in close, chest still heaving from the effort. “Miss, I would love to take you back to the bar for a drink,” he whispered, his voice having a touch of an accent I couldn’t quite place.
Was this guy for real? I mean, I wasn’t even twenty-one. I’d never even had guys look at me before I’d been dragged into the agency’s schemes and since then, pretty much everyone who had hit on me had been doing it as part of their job. This guy didn’t seem to be doing that… why?
With that, he took my hand and began leading me away, no doubt taking my flushed cheeks and lack of a response for a yes. I swallowed, hardly able to believe how warm his hand felt in mine. I swear, I almost had a conscious thought as he pulled me through a beaded curtain and into a posh alcove I hadn’t noticed before.
He pulled me down onto a scarlet couch and leaned forward, pulling a bottle of champagne from a bucket of ice even though there was an open one next to it.
“Dom?” he asked, raising one perfect blond eyebrow into the air. When I didn’t respond because I was a total tool, he smiled at me and popped the top off.
The boom of it was loud enough to make me jump, and I realized I couldn’t hear the music in here, which was a little weird because I was fairly certain the only thing separating this room from the outside world was the beaded curtains.
He poured the golden liquid into a pair of flutes and offered me one. I took it hesitantly, watching him through the rising bubbles.
“To new friendships,” he said, tilting his head back and draining his flute in a single gulp. It seemed like a weird thing to do given the champagne seemed expensive. Then again, what did I know? I nodded to him and took a sip.
It was unlike anything I’d ever tasted and not in a good way. I’m sure it was yummy by champagne standards, but I’d never actually had the stuff before. I wasn’t sure I wanted to have any more from the taste of it either. So what did I do?
I quaffed the whole thing in a single gulp and set it down on the table. The heat of the alcohol traveled through me, warming me from the inside out and melting a smile onto my face. He filled my glass as I watched him suspiciously. When bubbles began to flow over the rim, he laughed and held it out to me.
“Thanks,” I said, my voice a little higher pitched than normal.
He laughed, his abdomen muscles flexing with the effort as he leaned back against the couch, and it was all I could do to keep from staring.
“So you speak,” he said, the hint of laughter in his voice. It was a little weird, to be honest. “I thought maybe you
communicated solely through dance.” He waved his hand like he could brush away his comment. “Either way, I’m impressed. I rarely find a dancer of your caliber in my club.” He shifted, moving closer to me and pulling my nearly empty flute from my hand. Where had the alcohol gone? I’d only taken a sip… I swear.
“Wait… your club?” I blabbered as he refilled my flute a third time. I suddenly felt like an idiot because that meant he was with the gang, and here I was drinking champagne with him. I needed to get out of here, now.
“Yes, my club. I am Raul, the proprietor of the Achilles Bar and Grill,” he replied, handing me the flute. “Though we don’t actually cook things here, so the last part is a misnomer. We added it because it rolls off the tongue better.” He smirked at me before adding the word ‘grill,’ somehow enunciating it so it sounded alluring and provocative.
I blinked at him and instead of taking the glass from him because for all I knew it was filled with poison. Maybe he was just immune? Maybe he was like that Italian from Princess Bride and had acclimated himself to it? I scrunched myself backward into the pillows, glancing around for a way to escape before deciding to play it cool. “I can’t be here alone with you. My friend is waiting for me outside.”
He laughed, and it bubbled out of him in an intoxicating flurry. “Do not worry. I am not trying to get you drunk and take advantage of you.” His smile widened, revealing a mouthful of gleaming porcelain. “If that is what you think…”
“I didn’t think…” I whispered almost to myself as he took a sip of his champagne.
“I’m gay,” he replied, waving his hand. “Do you think straight men dance as well as I do? I think not.” He shook his head as if perishing the distasteful thought.
“That’s not, um…” I didn’t even know how to respond to him because his words sloshed around in my suddenly champagne-addled brain.
“Did you think I was hitting on you?” he asked, leaning in close to me.
“No,” I replied, not meeting his eyes. “I am just worried about my friend. He was supposed to be out there with me, but I seem to have lost him in the excitement.”
He watched me for a long time, thoughts swimming through his eyes, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if he believed me. I know I wouldn’t have and not just because it sounded like I was trying to cover for myself. Which was sort of what I was doing? Damn it, and damn him!
“You mean Morris?” Raul asked, leaning back against the couch and finishing his champagne. He twirled the empty glass between his long, slender fingers as he watched me.
“Yeah, he said this was the best club in Greece. I only just got into town a few hours ago,” I said before stopping myself because I was revealing too much. If this guy really owned the club, that meant he’d definitely know about the damn goons who came to kill us, and by extension, who I was. Not good. Not good at all. I needed to get out of here and fast.
“Don’t,” he replied when he saw me edging away from him. “If you make any sudden movements, the guards outside will come inside. You won’t like that, Abby.”
“Did you know who I was the whole time?” I asked, feeling even dumber about letting him walk me in here.
“I had my suspicions,” he replied just before one of his guards flew backward through the curtain in a spray of blood and gore. The man’s immense body slammed down onto the table, knocking the champagne bottle flying.
10
I leapt to the side, throwing myself behind the cover of one wall while Raul stood there like an idiot with his mouth hanging open. Bullets exploded through the curtain, slamming into the spot I’d occupied only a moment before, reducing the once plush couch to a riddled corpse. Stuffing exploded through the air as my suit writhed over my skin, covering my body in an instant.
My machinegun slipped into my hand, and I let off a quick burst of fire. Bullets tore through the wall in a jagged line toward me as I flung myself across the room. I hit Raul square in the side with my shoulder because he was still standing there like some kind of idiot, and we crashed to the floor in a heap as the room erupted in gunfire at about chest height. Thankfully, we were lying on the ground.
Raul looked up at me, fear filling his eyes as I nodded to him. “Stay down,” I whispered, not believing I was saying the words. “I got this.”
I crawled forward, trying to ignore the gunfire reducing the room to an unlivable hovel even though every part of me was telling me I should be moving away from the shooting. It was then I realized I couldn’t really hear very well. That wasn’t good at all.
I emptied my machine gun just as a grenade rolled through the beaded curtain and was rewarded with a grunt of pain from beyond. It brought me a strange satisfaction as I scrambled to my feet and dove toward the grenade. I hit the ground hard on my chest as my fingers smacked into the hard metal ball of death. It went zinging toward the curtain and exploded the moment it crossed the threshold.
The blast flung me backward, and I was pretty sure I’d have been dead if I wasn’t wearing the suit. Even still, I slammed backward into the wall hard enough to indent myself in the drywall. I collapsed forward onto the plush red carpet with the taste of blood in my mouth. I glanced around for Raul and found him taking cover behind the overturned couch and was at once relieved he was still alive and somewhat annoyed I hadn’t thought to, you know, hide. Here I was playing handball with grenades, and he was hiding. Shouldn’t it have been the other way around?
Four soldiers clad in gear that reminded me of the Special Forces agents I’d sometimes trained with burst into the room, moving slowly and methodically as their guns looked for sources of gunfire. Why hadn’t they seen me? It was then I realized my suit had somehow camouflaged me. Even still, it wouldn’t take long for them to find me.
I gritted my teeth, sucking in a quick breath before leaping to my feet like a Kung Fu ninja warrior. My fist slammed into the facemask of the first soldier, knocking him backward into one of his partners as I dropped in time to avoid a bullet to the face. It zinged by overhead as I crouched. With a burst of strength, I threw myself into the shooter, catching him in the stomach. He stumbled backward, but even as he did so, he drove his elbow into my back.
The blow rocked me, but I was pretty sure the worst of it was held off by my suit. I dropped, throwing my bodyweight onto my elbows as I came crashing down onto the soldier’s toes. He screamed in pain, and I was pretty sure all the bones inside his boot were broken.
Someone grabbed me from behind, arms snaking up under mine to lock me in a full nelson. I struggled, trying to move as I was slammed face first into the floor. A heavy weight settled on top of me, pinning me there even as I struggled. I wracked my brain, desperately trying to figure out what to do when a single gunshot rang out in the room.
The hold on me loosened as warm fluid spattered across my back. I shoved myself out from under my attacker as he slumped sideways to the ground, the back of his head blown out. Raul was standing behind us with a smoking gun in his hand. I wasn’t quite sure what kind it was, but it was huge and silver. Had he just saved me? Why?
Instead of saying anything, he turned his gun on the other three soldiers, emptying his weapon into them. His face was strangely blank. It was scary. Usually, people are angry or scared or something. In his eyes, there was nothing at all. A chill ran down my spine as I stared up at him, unable to move.
When his weapon was spent, he dropped it to the ground and picked up one of the fallen machineguns. He held out one hand to me, and it was then I realized I was still crouching next to him. I took his hand, and he helped me to my feet, but no sooner had he done so, when he emptied the machinegun at close range into the fallen soldiers, thereby guaranteeing them closed casket funerals.
“Let’s go,” he said, voice cold enough to make me shiver.
“What’s going on?” I asked as he stepped brazenly out of the room, evidently not worried about being shot. It was strange because even Chuck didn’t enter rooms that could contain enemies so brazenly. W
as there something going on I didn’t understand, and if so, what? I mean, this guy had been shell-shocked only a moment ago.
“Those are Israeli Special Forces. I don’t know why they’re here, but no one shoots up my club,” he replied as the beads swung back behind him, blocking him from view, which was more than a little annoying because it seemed like he’d done it on purpose. But why would he block my view on purpose after I’d saved him?
I stepped outside, and the sound of blaring music filled my ears, making me wonder how I’d heard him, and why the room we’d been in had been so quiet. It also made me realize no one had heard our little gunfight. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
The room was a bloodbath. Bodies littered the floor, a combination of Raul’s guards and others that looked like the Israelis. There must have been a dozen bodies. The smell of death was nearly overwhelming, and I had to fight the urge to be sick. I turned away to catch my breath, staring at the spot where the floor and walls had been blasted apart. It looked like a grenade had gone off. Oops.
Raul walked over to me, gesturing with a machine gun he must have taken from one of his fallen guards. It wasn’t as nice looking as what the Israelis had, reminding me more of an AK47 that had seen way better days than anything else.
“You know, a second ago you were cowering behind the couch. Now you’re Big Billy Badass. What gives?” I asked, focusing on looking at his slightly crooked nose so I wouldn’t have to look into his flat, emotionless eyes.
“I compartmentalize,” he said and his words were barely audible over the blare of music. “When my brother and I were small, our dad used to take us on nature hikes. In reality, though, they were more like forced death marches. It was like he was trying to prepare us for something though we never really found out what he was preparing for since he was killed by a drunk driver when I was only ten.”
Magic for Hire: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Found Magic Book 3) Page 6