We all dipped out onto the dance floor as some American rap began to play. Riding the beat was bringing on a new high. A few guys came up to all of us and we started to dirty whine like we were freshmen back in college. Strobe lights were throwing beams everywhere, painting our skin with blue and red darts. With every treble or thump of a drum, the lights would go crazy. My hands were easing over my body as I backed it up on some beefy Italian. My ass cheeks were bouncing all over the place and then my vision began to swim.
I stopped dancing and headed to the bathroom.
“Be right back,” I told Trey.
“Want me to go with you?”
I knew the rules. I knew we should have stuck together but I was feeling so weird at this point. I just wanted to vomit. My head was starting to feel kind of heavy and just as I was getting there, I stumbled.
Strong arms surrounded me and tried to steady me. “Thank you.”
“The pleasure is mine,” the man whispered in my ear.
His voice sent chills along my spine. He sounded so American, it felt so out of place to hear people that sounded like me in a foreign club. Our eyes finally met, and I came face to face with the Scared Man. The scar ran jaggedly down his face and up close it looked so thick, bulging and angry like.
Alistair’s hit man. I wanted to scream but no one would hear me. He pushed me up against the wall, blocking me from the sight of the girls.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“You’re a pretty little thing,” he said and pulled out a knife.
Slowly he slid it down the front of my top. It was so sharp I could feel the threads giving under the pressure and splitting apart.
“I wanna make you squeal for me,” he smiled and gripped my face with his other hand.
“GET OFF ME!”
My son’s face flashed in my head. There was no way in hell I was going down without a fight. He had a knife but on my feet were fucking high heels. With all of my strength I gave him the hardest shove I could muster.
It was just enough to break his hold on me. He stumbled back just a little bit but never lost his grip on the knife. He flicked it from hand to hand, and a snarled pirouetted on his face.
“YOU’RE GONNA SQUEAL BITCH!”
I stumbled but got my heel off, my head still feeling woozy. I was packing tonight. My clutch was still sitting up in the VIP.
“You fucked with the wrong one,” I thew at him as we danced around in a circle.
My feet were unsteady, but I dove past him and onto the dance floor. The girls were all still there and noticed I was in distress.
“What the fuck!”Trey exclaimed upon seeing me.
All I could do was point to the psycho chasing me.
The Scarred Man was still advancing on me not even bothering to hide the knife. People had started to take notice and were screeched getting out of his way. The music was still up and pounding in our ears.
Carmen and Trey’s eyes were wide with distress.
“Stay the hell back!”
He continued to grin and that was when he darted at me with the knife. Jumping back, I swung my high heel out at him in return. The floor of the club felt slick and disgusting from spilled drinks and God knows what else. I had no choice but to fight the big motherfucker; now was the time I wished that Morgan was here with me, but I’d let her stay back in Georgia. We were on vacation after all.
Scared Manlashed out at me again and Trey and Carmen were starting to scream for all they were worth. Deciding they had had enough, Trey jumped on his back.
“You messed with the wrong bitches!”She was screaming at the top of her lungs. I watched as Treys arms hooked around his thick corded neck, squeezing for all she was worth. He wasn’t losing steam at all while trying to shake her off as if she were some gnat.
I swung at him with my shoe and missed again. Then out of nowhere, I saw Carmen charge in with a champagne bottle and clocked him upside the head hard.
The bottle must have been dipped in Nyquil because he fell asleep standing up. He toppled over like marble pillar. By then the music had died down to a slow rumble and people gathered around us. Security had finally decided to show up.
