Bang Bang(5)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

His expression grew serious. “And if I can’t let you go?”

My heart sped up. “Then you’ll have to find a way to bring me the warmth here…”

He moved an inch closer to me, his mouth so close to mine I could almost taste him, then he lifted the cake and whispered, “Blow.”

It was hard enough breathing let alone blowing out a single candle, but I did it.

He set the cake down and pulled me in for a hug. “I won’t let you go. So I guess I better figure out a way to keep you warm, huh?”

“You let me know when you have the answer,” I mumbled against his chest.

“On your eighteenth birthday,” he vowed. “I’ll tell you then… it will give you something to look forward to.”

Silly that on my eighteenth birthday I sat outside the foster home I was in and waited for him. As if he’d suddenly come back to life and come rescue me.

I cried for him that day.

I cried for me.

“New girl!” Someone clapped in front of my face. “Time to get dressed!”

With a sigh, I stood and followed her into a tiny dressing room where girls were piling on layers of makeup and hairspray like it mattered what they looked like when all the men were just there to get drunk and horny.

“Here.” She tossed something black at me and moved in front of a mirror to fluff her hair.

I lifted up the measly scrap of fabric and nearly choked. “What is this?”

“It’s a type of leotard.” She shrugged, still not taking her eyes off the mirror. “It barely covers the girls, but gets the guys wild because it still leaves a bit to the imagination. You’re lucky the manager doesn’t make you go out there topless, everyone else had to when they started.”

“Oh.” I clutched the leotard tighter. “So where do I change?”

The girls all stopped what they were doing, shared a look, and burst out laughing. The one named Sherry winked. “You ain’t got nothing we haven’t seen before, kid. Now strip.”

Strip.

My new job title.

With a gulp, I slowly began doing just that, hands shaking the whole time.

CHAPTER FOUR

Axton

MY DAMN PALMS were sweaty as I drove to the location Sergio had given me. I hadn’t been out for years.

Years.

I’d been a ghost, just like my brother, not really existing. Living on one of the large family ranches. We had more money than we knew what to do with, and I was more than happy to sit there and finish my PhD, not that I’d probably ever be able to use it, all things considered. My last name was either like being a celebrity in Chicago or a death dealer. It wasn’t rare to see someone drop my credit card with trembling hands or freaking bow. Yes, a teen actually bowed to me at the gas station and then asked if it was all true.

And I wanted to say was, “yeah let me show you my gun.”

Instead I told him I had no idea what he was talking about.

I’d only gone to prison for a few months. The feds couldn’t tack anything to me or most of my family.

But my father? They had loads of shit on him and a few other lucky ones. So while I was set free to live out my miserable existence, they still rotted behind bars.

I had my brother back now and an empty mansion.

And guns, lets not forget the guns, and other weaponry and enough fancy cars to make a sixteen-year-old boy shit himself.

But what was that life without some sort of meaning?

I’d trained since boyhood to be part of the Family. To do what was right. To protect Family — blood. But in the end my own blood had betrayed me, a deal with the De Langes gone bad. My father was trying to impress the boss and ended up blowing our covers to Hell.

I tapped the steering wheel of the Mercedes again.

One more mile.

Alabama, of all the places for Amy to end up in, why the hell had she chosen Florence, Alabama?

I pulled into the parking lot and checked the address on my navigation. It said I was at the right spot, but Sergio had said she was a waitress.

I checked the address again.

At a strip club?

Pissed off all over again at my brother, I got out of the car and slammed the door shut. The music made me sick. I had never been a guy for strip clubs, they seemed cheap… like the type of thing men went to when they weren’t confident enough to actually ask a girl out or take her on a nice date.

Disgusted, I opened the door and winced. The smell of smoke filled the air, burning my nostrils. The place was packed.

I searched anxiously for Amy, all I needed to do was grab her, stuff her in the car if need be, and then hightail it out of Hell. I needed to bring her back where she belonged, right the wrong, and hopefully not scare her to death considering she thought I was dead.

The lights lowered as dancers exited the stage.

Still no Amy.

I started making my way towards a security guard who was standing on the far side of the room nearest the stage, when a booming voice sounded over the speakers.

“Tonight we have a special treat for you!” The voice made my ears hurt. A drunken group of college guys pushed in front of me and ran to the stage with dollar bills. Swear my finger twitched on the gun in the back of my pants. But I refrained — barely.

“Hey,” I said loudly to the security guard. “I’m looking for a girl.”

“Keep moving.” He glared.

I could take him, I knew this, he probably knew this, but he didn’t move, or even make eye contact, instead his head was leaning forward so he could see the stage.

“She’s young,” the voice continued. “And so innocent.”

More hoots from the crowd.

“She needs money for college! And who are we to keep her from getting her education?” More cheers. “Please welcome Amy—”

I pushed past the security guard. When he tried to grab me, I turned on my heel and elbowed him in the throat, possibly breaking something — ask me if I cared.

I ran down the hall and nearly collided with a man holding a microphone. “Listen you bitch, I already announced you. You have to go on.”

“No.” Her voice was weak. “I thought I could do it, but I can’t. I can’t. Please don’t make me do it!”

He slapped her.

And I snapped.

With a curse I lunged for him, slamming his body against the wall; the microphone dropped out of his hand.

“Who are you?” he spat, fighting against me.

With a grin, I answered, “The angel of death.” And knocked him out with a right hook breaking a few teeth in the process as blood poured from his nose and mouth.