Until Series: Box set (123 page)

We stood to the side again once the men had their drinks. Every once in a while, they would ask me a question about the club, and I told them what I knew. About thirty minutes after they’d had their first drinks, I called and had more ordered. This time, when the guy came in, he did the same thing—hand at his back, looking at the table. I had no idea who he was, but I planned to find out as soon as the men left. One of the men received a phone call and stepped out of the room, and when he returned, he had another man with him. They all sat down, and this time when they called me over, they wanted a bottle of Chives Regal Royal Salute Scotch. One glass of the stuff cost close to six hundred dollars, making it over ten thousand dollars for a bottle. I placed the order and waited for it to be delivered. When the knock sounded on the door, I opened it up, and the same man from earlier came in and set the tray down. I watched to see if he would do the same thing he had done the previous times.

Sure enough, his head turned towards the table and his hand lifted behind his back, but this time, he lifted his jacket, pulling out something black. It took a second for me to realize what it was, and by that time, it was too late. He let off four rounds in rapid succession then turned and fired a round, hitting Tessa. I screamed as he turned the gun on me, and before I could think, I ducked down and ran as fast as I could out of the room. I felt a bullet whiz past me as I turned the corner and another as I entered the main part of the club.

I spotted Mick. Right away, his eyes got wide, and I yelled at the top of my lungs, “HE HAS A GUN!”

Everyone started screaming and running in every direction. I ran into a solid wall, and when I looked up to see it was Link, he wrapped an arm around my waist, turned, and pushed me behind the bar. I stumbled in my heels, falling to my knees and hitting the ground hard. I crawled under the counter and curled myself into a ball, shaking out of fear for my life. I listened as people screamed, but I didn’t hear any more gunshots. I don’t know how long I stayed like that, but it felt like forever until I heard police sirens.

“Autumn,” Link called. I peeked out from behind my hands as he crouched down in front of me.

“Did you get him?”

He shook his head, putting out his hand for me to take. I shook my head no—I was safe. I didn’t want to move from that spot.

“Come on, Angel. He’s gone.” I shook my head again. “Nothing is going to happen to you. I promise you’re safe.” I swallowed against the lump in my throat, squeezing my eyes closed.

“Tessa?” I asked him. His eyes closed and his head dropped forward. “No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “No.”

“Sorry, Angel,” he said quietly.

“Why?”

“Not sure, but the cops are here. I need you to come out of there so you can talk to them,” he told me gently, holding out his hand again.

I nodded, reluctantly taking it. Even though I didn’t like Tessa, she didn’t deserve what had happened to her. None of the people in the room deserved what had happened to them.

“I should have tried to help her.”

“Nothing you could have done,” Link said, and my eyes went from the floor to his. He shook his head, wrapped his beefy arm around my shoulders, and walked me over to a barstool. I sat there until the cops came up a few minutes later and told me that they needed to talk to me at the station.

“Can she get some clothes on?” Link—who had given me the shirt off his back and hadn’t left my side—asked one of the detectives.

“Sure,” the guy mumbled.

I slid off the barstool and dazedly walked to the dressing room. When I walked in, all the girls were there, huddled together and crying. I didn’t know what to say to them; most of them had been friends with Tessa. I felt horrible that they had lost their friend, but I was unsure if they would want me to express my condolences.

I walked to my locker and started to pull off my stockings when one of the girls came up to me, wrapping her arms around me. Shocked, I hugged her back, and more of the girls gathered around me. We all silently stood there for a few minutes. Most of the girls were crying while a couple mumbled about how everything would be okay. I wasn’t sure anything would ever be okay again; I’d just watched five people die and was lucky to still be alive.

“I have to go with the police,” I told the girls when it didn’t seem like they were going to let me go. After a second, they all started breaking away from me one by one, giving me reassuring hugs.

“Call me if you want to talk,” one of the girls, Elsa, said, handing me a business card with her personal information on it. I looked at it for a long second before nodding. I had never really been friends with any of them. Maybe that needed to change.

I went to my locker, pulling off my clothes before slipping on a pair of jean shorts, a black tank top, a large, oversized grey sweater, and a pair of black flip-flops. I grabbed my bag, shoved everything from my locker into it, and left the room without a backwards glance.

Link was waiting for me outside the dressing room door, his back against the wall, his head tilted back, looking at the ceiling. I had known Link since I’d started working at The Lion’s Den. He was a nice guy—blond hair cut low to his head, tan skin, blue eyes, and a Southern drawl that made women fall to their knees. He used to flirt with me when I first started, but when I didn’t return any of the banter, he laid off and became a friend. He’s one of the only people who knows about my past and the things I’ve gone through.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” I told him, pulling my bag across my body.

“I’m not letting you go through this alone.” He pulled me into his side.

I could feel tears sting my eyes, and I fought them back. I wasn’t going to cry until this was all over, when I could do it alone, hiding under my covers with my face stuffed into a pillow…like I always did.

“Thank you.”

He gave me a squeeze, and I felt his lips at the top of my head.

*

“I don’t understand
why I have to leave the state,” I told Link, putting another pair of shoes in my bag. I had no idea how long I would be gone, and Link made it sound like I wouldn’t be able to come back to Vegas for a long while.

“Angel, I hate to remind you, but you’re the only witness, and from what the cops said, the guy is a killer paid by the Mob to do hits on people.”

I sighed, looking around my house. I hated that I was leaving, but I knew it was for the best. I’d been at the police station for over eight hours going over what had happened then sitting with a sketch artist. Somehow, the guy who had shot Tessa and those men had avoided every camera in the club. The cops had informed me that I needed to be extra cautious. I am the only witness, and they are concerned he might come after me. When Link found out what they’d said, he’d made a call to one of his friends from back home in Tennessee and asked if he would be willing to let me stay with him until the police caught the guy. The man, Kenton, had agreed, telling Link that I would be safe. I hate that I am leaving my home, but if my only options are either death or moving, the choice is begrudgingly clear.

“I hope they get the guy fast,” I mumbled.

“Me too, but until then, you will be far away from here, where you’re safe.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to have me stay with this guy? I mean, how well do you really know him?”

“We were best friends growing up. He’s a good guy. You’ll be safe with him.”

I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded before going into the closet to get another suitcase. Might as well pack enough stuff to last me. Once I was all packed and ready to go, we got into Link’s SUV and headed for the airport. I was nervous the whole way, feeling like something crazy was about to happen…

*

Today

“Ladies and gentlemen,
we’re about twenty minutes out from our arrival destination. The weather in Nashville is mostly clear and sunny. The temperature is eighty-five degrees. The pilot has now turned on the ‘fasten seatbelt’ sign. Flight crew, please prepare for landing,” I hear through my sleep-ridden state and lift my head from the wall where I had rested it.

I wipe my mouth with the sleeve of my sweater before looking around to see that everyone is putting their belongings away. I make sure my seatbelt is secure before sitting back. My leg starts quickly bouncing up and down, and I rub the tattoo behind my ear, trying to think about something other than the plane landing.

Once we are on the ground, I wait until everyone is off the plane to make my way out into the terminal. I go to baggage claim and look around, but I have no clue what this guy looks like. All I know is that his name is Kenton and he is supposed to be picking me up.

I don’t see anyone who looks like they’re searching for someone, so I go to the conveyer belt and spot one of my bags as soon as I get there. I pull it off, stumbling back slightly from the weight as every guy here just watches me without offering to help. I look around again, wondering if I’m supposed to call someone to tell them that I landed. I pull my phone out, click it off airplane mode, and send a text to Link letting him know I have arrived. He sends me a message back letting me know that Kenton called and told him that he couldn’t make it to pick me up and I should just catch a cab to his house. The door would be unlocked.

I shake my head, cursing under my breath, and almost miss one of my other bags going around the belt. Luckily, I catch it at the last second. I carry it over to my other bag and turn around just in time to see my last bag about to go through the tunnel. I run as fast as I can in my flip-flops and land partially on the conveyor belt, my bottom half being dragged along the floor as I grab the handle of my bag. I pull it back so hard that it flies over my head, causing me to land on my back with my hands over my head.

“You must be Autumn,” I hear rumbled from above me.

I tilt my head back and look up at the man standing over me. He’s upside down, but even from my awkward position, he is good-looking. His chuckle makes me grit my teeth though, and I stand up, putting my bag on its wheels before turning back to face him.

“You are?”

He raises a brow to me, shaking his head, looking me over from head to toe. My body heats immediately under his gaze. I take my sweater off, wrapping it around my waist and clearing my throat.

“You are?” I ask him again, getting annoyed that he’s obviously finding this so funny if the smirk on his face is anything to go by.

“Kenton.” He smiles. “Those bags yours?” He nods towards my other two bags.

“Yes.” I blow some hair out of my face, looking into his blue eyes and wondering why the hell I feel so hot all of a sudden.

He looks away, going over to my bags while I take the time to look him over. He’s tall—much taller than my five foot five. His hair touches the edge of the black T-shirt he has on. He needed a cut a while ago, but judging by the dark scruff along his jaw, I can tell that he doesn’t care much about grooming. His shoulders are broad, tapering down to a lean waist. His thighs are thick, encased in a pair of dark jeans that have shredded around the bottom by his heels, and his wallet is imprinted in the back pocket like he wears them often.

I look at his ass as he leans over. I can’t believe I’m checking a man out; I’m not one to be the slightest bit sexually interested in anyone. My eyes travel lower, looking at his feet, which are enclosed in a very large pair of black boots. I wonder absently if what they say is true about shoe size. I shake my head at my thoughts, dragging my bag with me towards him.

“I thought you couldn’t make it,” I tell him when I reach his side. My head tilts back to look up into his eyes.

“Yeah, change of plans,” he mutters, looking at me.

I wait to see if he’s going to say anything else. Apparently, he isn’t going to, so I shake my head again and lower my face towards the ground.

“You tired?” His voice is dark and rich, and it does something crazy to my insides. I nod, lifting my head. “Let’s roll. You can sleep when we reach the house.”

I don’t say anything else. Something is wrong with me; maybe I’m getting sick. I follow him out of the terminal into the car park. When we reach the parking lot, he stops and pulls a set of keys from his pocket. I hear the beep and look around, expecting him to be driving a large truck, a Hummer, or maybe even a tank. I never expected him to be driving a Dodge Viper, the black-on-black of the car only making it look hotter. I look at my bags, wondering how we will get them in the car.