Ten Tiny Breaths
Page 41

“This is sexual blackmail!” I hiss. First, he tried to force me into talking with that galactic hands free orgasm and that back-fired. Now he’s withholding completely as a means to forcing me. Bastard! I stalk away, refusing to look at him for the rest of the night.
The next shift at Penny’s, Trent is proven right.
Chapter Thirteen
Storm is doing her acrobat thing on stage and I’m watching her, stealing frequent glances at my new phone for a text from Trent. Nothing. He’s not here tonight. It’s the first night he hasn’t been here in a long time and I feel his absence like a missing limb. Maybe he’s finally given up on me. Maybe he realized I’m a lost cause and he won’t be getting laid anytime this century if he waits for me to break down and seek out therapy.
Storm’s feet touch down on the stage to a raucous round of applause. She bends down to pick up her top, covering her br**sts as best she can with an arm. I’ve seen Storm topless so many times by now, I don’t bat an eye. In fact, I’m getting used to naked females all around me. I’m starting to feel like the weirdo in the trench coat in the middle of a nudist beach.
Storm’s amazing, I think for the hundredth time, as the entire place claps and hoots. Everyone except a scrawny guy in the corner. I see him there, shouting at her, waving a fist full of money. He refuses to give it to the bouncer collecting for her. I get the impression that Nate’s about to toss him out on his skinny ass.
And then I don’t know how it happens, but the guy somehow scampers past the bouncers and onto the stage, screaming, “Bitch!” A blade appears. I watch in horror as he grabs hold of Storm’s hair and yanks her head back. Even from my distant vantage point, I see his dilated dark pupils. This guy’s on something.
My jaw drops to scream, but nothing comes out. Not a sound. With a swing of my arm to clear all the glasses off the bar, I spring over and run, shoving people out of the way, kicking and kneeing and punching as I clear a path through. Blood rushes to my head and my feet pound the ground with each heartbeat and all I can think is that I’m going to lose her. Another friend, dead. Mia will grow up without her mother.
This can’t be happening again.
I reach the stage to find a cluster of tight black shirts hovering. I can’t see Storm. I can’t see anything. I push and shove and claw, but I can’t get past the wall. My hands fly to my throat, assuming the worst possible outcome hidden beneath this horde of bodies.
And I pray.
I pray to whoever decided to keep me alive that they grant the same grace for Storm, who deserves it far more than I ever did.
A giant erupts from the crowd bouncers.
Nate.
And he has the guy within his grasp.
He stalks past me with a menacing look, the guy dangling by the neck from one of his fists. I hope he squeezes too tight and crushes the man’s larynx. But that hope hasn’t calmed my nerves a bit because Storm is somewhere in there and I still don’t know if she’s alive.
“Storm!” I scream.
Finally the wall of bouncers breaks apart. Ben guides me through with a hand on my back to find Storm huddled awkwardly on the floor, her limbs folded into themselves. A pang of alarm stabs me. She looks so much like Jenny did in the car.
I dive to her side.
“Oh, Kacey!” she cries and throws herself on my shoulder. “All I could think of was Mia.”
I’m shaking. “You’re alive. You’re alive. Thank God you’re alive,” I mumble over and over as my hands grope her arms, her neck, her shoulders. No blood. No wounds.
“I’m okay, Kacey. I’m okay.” Her cheeks are red and tear-stained, her makeup smeared all over her face, but she’s smiling now.
“Yes,” I confirm, swallowing the painful ball in my throat. “You’re not going to die. You’re okay. I haven’t lost you.” I’m too close to Storm. Too close to getting hurt like I did when I lost Jenny. An avalanche of memories crushes any semblance of relief I should feel right now. Suddenly, I’m trapped in the past, with a best friend who I’d known since we were two, who shared days and nights filled with laughter and tears, anger and excitement. An acute ache blossoms in my chest as I realize they’re all the memories I hope to create with Storm too.
All the things that man just tried to steal from me.
With a hint of trepidation, Storm reaches forward and takes my hand in hers. I hadn’t breathed since I leapt over the bar. Now I let the air out of my lungs. And something snaps inside me. I don’t know how to describe it other than to say it’s like the little needle on my moral compass breaks in half.
As if a hate bomb detonates inside me.
He tried to steal my second chance from me. He needs to pay.
Fluorescent lights now shine down over the inside of Penny’s, casting an unpleasant glow over the spilled drinks, empty bottles and garbage as bouncers usher patrons out. I catch Nate’s broad shoulders as he rounds the corner toward the back exit, the guy still within his grip. My teeth crack against each other.
I’m faintly aware of Trent standing near the front entrance. He’s pointing toward the stage and arguing with a bouncer to let him pass. My attention lingers over him for a split second, but nothing really registers, driven back to the hall where that vile creature, the one who tried to rob me of my new life, left.
I’m up and running.
I’m shoving grown men out of the way as I tear down the hall after Nate. I round a corner in time to see his enormous frame pass through the back door. As I speed to catch up, my heart beat racing, blood rushing to my head, I sense my hand grab an empty glass bottle sitting on a crate. Without a distinct thought or message to my body, my hand smashes it against the wall, sending shards of glass flying.
My fist squeezes the neck tightly, imagining how sharp the broken edges must be.
How effective they must be.
When I plow through the back door, I find Storm’s attacker standing in the parking lot. Alone.
Perfect.
Without uttering a sound, I charge forward, my arm drawing behind my back as I ready my aim. The weasel turns to see me and his beady little eyes widen. Six feet, five feet, four feet … My arm is just about to catapult around to plunge the broken glass deep into his chest, to let him physically feel the level of pain I would have had to face had he been successful in his attack, when two giant trunks sweep in and lift me off the ground, securing my arms tight against me.
“No!” I scream. Now I’m kicking and screaming with everything I’m made of. My teeth clamp down on Nate’s arms and sink in, tasting copper. He grunts, but doesn’t stop, carrying me back inside the doorway. He drops me on the ground and leans forward to meet me eye to eye, his hands still securing my arms.
“Let the police take care of it, Kacey!” The rumble in his voice vibrates through me.
“Police?” I frown and peer out past him. The Weasel isn’t alone. Four cruisers with flashing lights line the parking lot and a dozen officers mill about, scratching notes down as witnesses recount the scene of events. Somehow I hadn’t seen them.
“Ohmigod.” I stumble back, vomit rising into my throat, the bottle slipping from my fingers to tumble to the floor as I clutch my middle.
“I got you before they saw what you were about to do. No one saw anything and if they did, they’ll let it go,” Nate promises, his dark gaze searing deep into my face as if looking for something. For a demon, lurking, perhaps.