Making quick work of removing the cuffs, I hold the gun in my right hand since my left hand is out of commission, and quietly sneak my way out of the room. I can’t tell where I am or what type of building it is. It’s too dark. Keeping the gun trained in front of me, I slide my back against the wall to help keep me upright as I walk, my reserves of strength depleting swiftly. I haven’t had anything to eat or drink for days, and the lack of food is showing with how sluggish I’m beginning to feel. But that’s the great thing about adrenaline. It provides you with energy when you need it. I tap into that, letting my anger and need for revenge fuel me.
When I get to the end of the hallway, there’s a set of stairs and the thumping of music coming from up above. It sounds like club music. My mind instantly goes to the first night I met Liam, but I shake off the memory. I need to concentrate on the present and finding a way out of here. Getting up the stairs is going to be painful in the state I’m in, but what other choice do I have?
I reach the fourth step and stop. It’s the dance music playing that has me thinking of the security camera image of Rita meeting with Julio in the back alleyway of Spanks. No fucking way. Have I been right under everyone’s noses the entire time? I move more quickly up the stairs toward the door that will hopefully allow me freedom.
Just as I reach for the handle, the door swings wide open, and I don’t even hesitate. I fire my gun. The music drowns out the shot of the pistol. A man with gang symbols tattooed on his face, much like the ones Alejandro had, tumbles past me down the stairs, almost taking me with him. Shit. I need to move. Usually at times like this, Kellan would appear and tell me to pick my ass up and run or fight. Ever since our conversation at Rafe’s bedside, my brother’s ghost has been quiet. I wonder what that means.
As the ringing in my ears fades from the almost point-blank gunshot, the heavy bass of the music assails me, causing my head to pound along with it. Just another reminder that I probably have a concussion or two.
I carry the gun tight to my side, and I navigate down another hallway and out into the throngs of dancing people and flashing lights. It’s so loud and packed, no one should notice me or the state I’m in because I know I have to look like death warmed over and smell just as pleasant. Quickly slipping past the busy bar and into the back kitchen, I duck my head and angle straight for the exit where deliveries are brought in. If I’m lucky, the door doesn’t have an alarm that’ll be tripped when I open it. If it does, I’ll just have to run like hell.
As soon as the night air hits me, I breathe it in. And then I take off.
I don’t understand why the guys haven’t found me yet; why Declan didn’t realize I was being held captive practically right down the damn street from him. Tessa and Jax should’ve been able to locate me within hours. I’m left with thinking,what the hell?
Getting out of the club was too fucking easy. Things like that just don’t happen. There has to be a reason why Alejandro wasn’t there and only left a skeleton crew of two to watch over me. When I get to the end of the alleyway, I tuck the gun in the waistband of my pants at my back and pull down my tattered, soiled shirt as best I can to help cover it. The sidewalk I come to opens up onto 42ndStreet. I’m about twenty blocks from Falcon Tower, a little over a mile, give or take. If going at full sprint, I could run that distance in about seven minutes. However, I know it’ll take me longer than that. I’m already dizzy and feeling the crash that happens once your adrenaline comes down.
I make it one block before a light drizzle begins to fall. Why does this keep happening to me? At least it’s not a thunderstorm or a deluge like when I was stuck in the pit. The soft mist coats me as I walk at a fast clip. Old blood and sweat trickle down my face to my lips, the taste of it nasty and making my stomach roil. Once I get back to Declan’s, I’m going to take a very long bath, and then get Tessa to redo my nails, before falling into a sleep coma for the next week.
I’m thankful when no one I pass looks at me twice. That’s one of the perks of living in a large city. Nobody cares about you. You are just one in the four million other people who live here. Most everyone out at this time of night are, more often than not, coming home from a bar, drunk, homeless, a cop, or a municipal worker who got stuck with the night shift.
After twenty-five long fucking minutes, I finally reach the block for Falcon Tower.
Home.
Chapter 32
As soon as I hit the lobby of Falcon Tower, I stumble over my feet and fall to the floor on my hands and knees, my body finally giving out. Six men are on me, guns trained, shouting at me not to move. Not a problem. I don’t think I could even lift my head at this point.
My mind blurs in a haze, shutting down. I’m caked in dried blood, my face once again swollen and bruised. A look that I seem to be wearing a lot since I returned to the States. When I crashed through the lobby doors of Falcon Tower, the adrenaline that had been fueling me to fight and to escape runs out. I’m exhausted and just need a moment to catch my breath.
“Andie!”
I can’t even muster up the strength to acknowledge his voice. Lying down, I curl in on myself on the hard foyer marble floor when hands grab at me and lift me up, and I whine in pain at being jostled.
“We’ve got you,bella. Hold on,” Liam says.
“Where the fuck did she come from? How did she get here?” Keane barks, pressing in.
I blink tear-glassed eyes up at him, and his face darkens when he takes in the abused, bloody, and beaten sight of me.
Jax appears on my other side, and I can tell that he wants to rip me out of Liam’s arms and into his own by how his hands keep outstretching then ebbing, reaching toward me then away, uncertainty plaguing him on what to do.
The elevator doors open and Declan rushes forward, a mixture of fear and relief in his violet-colored eyes when he sees me.
“Get her upstairs to her room, right fecking now,” he tells Liam. He turns to one of his men. “Tell Mike if he isn’t here in five minutes, he won’t live to see the sun come up in the morning.”
My mind blocks out the cacophony around me and becomes numb, not able to handle anything more. I just need to sleep.
Someone slaps gently at my face. “Stay awake, princess.” Of course, Keane would be the asshole who won’t let me even close my damn eyes for two seconds. “You gotta stay with us until the doctor checks you out.”
I know I have a concussion. Multiple actually. But the need to sleep is overpowering. That feeling quickly and painfully dissipates when I’m placed in a bed. God, every-fucking-thing hurts so much.
“Keane, I’m so sorry,” I rasp out.
“Tinker Bell, there isn’t a damn thing for you to apologize for,” he tells me, bending over the side of the bed and caressing a hand down my matted, tangled hair.
I try to shake my head, but it hurts too much. He doesn’t get it. “Alejandro took them. The rings.”
