Chapter 5

My mind was spinning, and it felt as though I were wading through a hazy fog as the man who had been with Syn in her office practically carried me through the now empty strip club. The only people who hadn’t run away screaming were the six of us. Well, I suppose I had been screaming. I certainly would have been running if that guy, that vampire, hadn’t been holding me so tight it felt as if my bones were bruised.

I wasn’t screaming anymore, though. Instead, I was silent, with only the occasional hiccup escaping from my chest as my breathing slowly came back under control. I was still in the same disbelieving daze as I had been as I watched Tiny’s blood spread across the wooden floor.

The door slammed shut behind us as we moved quickly through the cool evening air, making my body jerk at the sudden noise. The man who was ushering me further away from the gruesome scene murmured softly as if to reassure me. I barely heard a word of it, though.

We stopped in front of a huge Harley-Davidson motorcycle. At any other time, in any other place, I probably would have been awed by the sheer masculine beauty of the metallic beast. I couldn’t help but admire its matte black paint and shiny chrome appearance.

I must have been standing there staring down at the motorcycle for too long because the next thing I knew, I was being lifted and sat astride the narrow back seat—not that there was much of one. The main seat was leather, wide for comfort, and long. Leather saddlebags framed the back part where I was sitting, which I assumed carried his belongings. A helmet much too big for me was plunked down over my head, and his hand tilted my chin up with two long fingers.

For a brief second, our eyes met, startling me from my horrified stupor, but the moment he looked down at the clasp he held in his hand, breaking eye contact, I went right back to the vision of all that blood. A shiver wracked my whole body at the memory. He probably took it as revulsion because he yanked his hands away as soon as the clasp clicked together. Without a word spoken between us, he swung his leg over the motorcycle and revved the engine.

As soon as the bike began to move, my hands flew around the man to grip tightly to his leather jacket. We quickly rolled out of the parking lot and out onto the highway, gaining speed. My shivers increased with the night air rushing past us. His body was giving off so much heat that I couldn’t help but snuggle closer, using his large body to block as much of the wind as possible.

The helmet slipped down over my eyes somewhere between leaving the parking lot and the miles it took to reach our destination. I was at a loss as to where we were going. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was screaming at myself at the stupidity of being on the back of a stranger’s motorcycle. He was taking me to an unknown destination, and no one would know where to look for me. Perhaps my boss knew; she seemed to be very friendly with the stranger, though that offered little comfort.

Another part of me, though, knew I was safer than I had ever been in my entire life. A small part of me that was trying to push through was telling me I was where I was meant to be. I did my best to shut the door on that voice. Just because the man invoked feelings of calm and rightness didn’t mean anything. My life taught me that nothing was ever what it seemed, so I kept a firm grasp on my trust.

While fighting memories of what happened at the bar, I also battled the demons inside of me. I needed to find a way to get far away from this man. I didn’t know why I was here, with him on his bike. I didn’t know if he was protecting me or if he was taking me somewhere in order to harm me. I couldn’t trust anything.

The bike slowed as we turned a corner. The air had gotten noticeably colder, and my shivers had turned violent. Every part of me was freezing, and no wonder. I was still wearing the outfit all the servers were expected to wear, which was practically nothing, though obviously much more than the dancers did. I shifted my feet and groaned audibly at the pain that movement induced. My bare foot turned on the peg under me, and I realized for the first time that I lost one of my stiletto heels. It was part of my minuscule uniform, and it was going to come out of my tips, an expense I couldn’t afford. But then, did I even still have a job after tonight?

We slowed to a stop, and I heard a mechanical whirring, indicating that a garage door was opening. At the sound, my heart sped up even faster than it already had been. I lifted my head, feeling as if it weighed a hundred pounds, and tried to look around, but all I was able to see in the brief space of my vision that wasn’t covered by the helmet was asphalt.

Before I could make a decision to jump off the back of the motorcycle and try to make a run for it, the engine revved again, and we rolled forward into an enclosed space. The rumbling of the engine was loud enough to make any speaking impossible. Before the outside door closed completely, the engine turned off, though engine fumes still managed to choke me enough to keep from being able to talk.

I loosened my death grip on the man’s jacket and almost cried out in pain as my fingers cramped at the cold that had frozen them in place. He must have sensed my discomfort because he covered my hands before I could straighten them out, the heat from his touch soothing the worst of the pain.

With a jolt, the floor beneath us began to move, making me realize that we were sitting in a huge elevator or lift. I still couldn’t see much of anything except the metal floor. It was only a few seconds before we came to a slow stop with another jerk. The big biker removed his hand from mine, giving my fingers a pat as if to let me know it was safe to move. I hesitantly pulled my hands back, flexing my fingers, trying to regain mobility back into the aching joints.

As the man dismounted, I raised my fingers to the strap under my chin, attempting to unclick the latch, but I wasn’t able to accomplish anything except shiver from the coldness seeping into my neck at the touch of my fingers there. My hands were brushed aside, and once again, the man lifted my chin, though this time, I couldn’t see his eyes.

With a hard shiver, the helmet lifted from my head, and I blinked several times, taking in the dim lighting and not much else. After I sat there numbly for a few more seconds, the big biker sighed and wrapped his hands around my waist, lifting me off the bike, much like the way he had deposited me there in the first place.

I wobbled, off balance, until I remembered I was missing a shoe. Placing my hand on the warm leather seat, I leaned over to grasp the remaining stiletto and slipped it off before letting it drop to the metal floor with a dull clatter. Once I was finally able to stand on my own two feet, I wrapped my arms around my torso as much for warmth as for comfort and got my first real look around. I had been right; I was standing in a huge metal lift, probably for cargo. At the sound of heavy footsteps, I turned to look at the back of the man as he walked away from me and into what I assumed was a large open warehouse. However, the space seemed to be converted into a very minimalistic living area.

I took a tentative step forward, swaying slightly from the ride on the motorcycle I was unaccustomed to riding, as well as the cold and the shock from the events of the night. I took another step and had to brace my shoulder against the opening of the lift to keep from stumbling.

“You can have a seat. I’ll find you something warm to change into.”

The deep rumble of his voice had my head jerking from my examination of the small two-seater sofa, the large bed in the far corner, and the kitchen across from the lift. I couldn’t see a bathroom, but I imagined there had to be one somewhere.

“Why,” I stopped to clear my throat before I could try again. “Why am I here?” My voice was raspy, as if I had been screaming. It took me a moment to remember that I actually had been screaming. I closed my eyes as the memory of Tiny getting his heart ripped out in front of me played out in my mind again. A scalding hot tear slid down my frozen cheek. As I glanced down at my fingers, I gasped at the sight of the blood smeared on them.

Frantically, I swiped at my face, at once realizing that I was covered in blood spray. Of course I was; I had been right fucking there as a man was murdered by a monster. Bile rose quickly in my throat. I slapped a hand over my mouth and knew I needed to find a trash can or a toilet immediately.

The man must have been watching me because he lifted a small black trash can off the floor behind the kitchen island where he’d been standing. I rushed forward without thought, grabbing the can and emptying the contents of my stomach until everything ached, and I just wanted to curl up into a ball and cry for a week straight.

Once I was sure I didn’t have anything left inside of me to vomit up, I sagged against the concrete kitchen island. I still held the trash can, embarrassed and unsure what to do with it. I was certain it smelled terrible. I didn’t know the stranger, but as ridiculous as the idea was, I cared if he thought I was disgusting. But when I brought my teary eyes up to meet his, all I saw was a quiet understanding.

“Here,” he rumbled out in that deep voice of his, his hand extended. I hesitantly handed the can over. I watched with flaming cheeks as he pulled the sides of the trash bag up and tied it swiftly in a tight knot. He walked over to the lift and sat it in the corner next to his motorcycle. When he turned back to see me watching, he just said, “I’ll take it out while you’re in the shower.”

I glanced around again, this time with my view from a different vantage point. This time, I could see there was an open door next to the lift with a toilet inside. On the other side of the freight elevator, there was a metal door that looked more like a normal-sized elevator, maybe a little smaller than one I would have seen in an office building. Two entrances?

The biker opened one of the saddlebags on the back of the motorcycle and withdrew a handful of clothing items before walking over to the bathroom. He flipped on the light and set the clothes on the counter. I heard the water running as he stepped back out again.

“Take a hot shower and get changed. We’ll talk when you’re done.”

With those words, he turned his back on me, going to his bike and rifling through his belongings again. With my arms wrapped tightly around myself, I decided to do what he said. I needed to get warm. I needed to get the blood off of me. And I needed answers. It seemed that I would be relying on this stranger for all of those things.