Standing in the Shadows

Cindy looked around, glassy-eyed. 'Um, I don't know.'

A muscular redheaded woman handed Erin a pair of leggings. 'Put these on her,' she said. 'I'm Sable. I'm the one who called that guy Sean, who was looking for Billy. Is that girl your friend?'

'She's my sister,' Erin said. 'Cin? Your shoes? Any idea where you put them?'

'I'm real glad you guys came to get her,' Sable said. 'She is, like, in orbit. I don't know what Billy's got her on, but she's not together enough to perform. No fuckin' way. She can't even stay on her feet, let alone dance. It is, like, incredibly unprofessional!'

'You are absolutely right,' Erin agreed hastily. 'And I'll be sure to tell her that you said so. Look, I have to find her some shoes—'

'Make sure she drinks a lot of water before she passes out,' Sable advised. 'And keep her away from Billy. He is pure, toxic scum.' She thrust a pair of battered cloth slippers into Erin's hands.

'I will. Thanks a lot, Sable. You've been really kind to help—'

'Hurry. Go. Get her the hell out of here before there's trouble.'

Cindy allowed herself to be dressed in the leggings and slippers, as unresisting as a doll. They hustled her out into the corridor. Miles took off his black frock coat and wrapped it around her, and the dusty black hem dragged on the ground behind her like a train. His dark eyes were fierce with anger behind his round glasses. 'He hit you,' he said.

Cindy squinted, stumbled, and finally focused on him. 'Miles? Is that you? What are you doing here?'

'Looking for you. That bastard hit your face,' he said. 'He dies.'

Cindy lifted her fingers to her mouth. 'Oh. Yeah. I'm all right, though,' she said faintly. 'It doesn't hurt anymore.'

'He dies,' Miles repeated.

The three men formed a protective triangle around them as they pushed the shuffling Cindy through the crowded room. No one protested, no one barred their way. Erin held her breath and crossed her fingers. Out the door… sudden quiet and a blast of cool, bracing oxygen. Now just the length of the parking lot, and they were home free.

The door of the club swung open, and music blasted out. 'Hey! You guys! Where the fuck do you think you're going with that girl?'

'Oh, thank God,' Sean murmured. 'Finally, some action.'

Connor pressed his keys into Erin's hand. 'Get your mom and sister into the car. Quick. We need to have a talk with that guy.'

'But you—'

'Get them into that car and start it up. Now.'

His tone left no room for argument. She bundled Mom and Cindy into the backseat, slammed the door shut, and leaped into the driver's side. Cindy sobbed in Mom's arms, and Mom was crooning comforting sounds. Neither of them seemed even remotely aware of the dangerous drama unfolding outside. She started up the car. Connor's phone was lying on the seat. She snatched it up and clutched it like a weapon.

Her heart beat so hard, it was about to burst out of her chest.

Chapter Eighteen

Billy Vega swaggered out of the doorway. Connor drew a mental sigh of relief. He was a tall, dark guy, well dressed, with florid, sensual good looks and a gym rat's body: thick through the upper body, rigid through the midsection, overdeveloped shoulders hunched over, hammy fists dangling like an ape. No worries.

The blond girl who had pushed past them in the corridor darted out the door after Billy. More guys filed out, arraying themselves behind Billy: five, six, seven, eight… nine of them in all, counting Billy. With Sean at his side, the odds were still OK if nobody pulled a gun. He really, really didn't want to involve the gun, since that often necessitated shooting the gun, which was a fucking dangerous mess. He was still hoping to fly below the radar with this thing, but if bullets started to zing, he could kiss that fond hope good-bye.

He hefted the cane and wished that Davy or Seth were there.

'That girl was with me,' Vega said. 'Who the fuck are you guys?'

Sean nudged him. 'Got any preference as to how we handle this?'

'Just make sure he's fit to talk afterwards,' Connor replied softly. He addressed Billy. 'Cindy told her sister that she wanted to go home. We're just here to give her a ride. We don't want any trouble.'

'Hear that, guys? He doesn't want any trouble,' Vega sneered. 'Isn't that sweet. Too fuckin' bad, asshole, because you found some.'

The loose battle formation started closing in on them. He and Sean sauntered closer. He made a big show of his limp as he scanned them for signs of weapons. Miles hesitated, and hurried after them.

Connor caught Sean's eye and nicked a questioning glance toward Miles. Sean gave him a who-knows? eyebrow twitch.

Too many unknowns. He wished he'd told Erin to gun the engine and drive straight home, but she probably wouldn't have obeyed him anyhow. There was no way out of this now except for through.

Billy's eyes narrowed when they landed on Miles. 'I know you. You're that stupid band's autistic sound geek, huh? What's your name again, you big ugly fuck? Igor?'

'You hit her,' Miles said. His voice was shaking.

'She was begging for it,' Billy said. 'The useless bitch.'

Miles lowered his head like a bull and charged. Connor and Sean both hissed in anticipatory agony as Billy jerked aside, ducking the wild roundhouse punch, and rammed his fist up into Miles's belly. Miles doubled over, choking, and Billy followed up with a knee to Miles's face and a vicious elbow jammed down into his kidney. The kid went down like a felled tree. Shit. They should've coached him, but watching X-Files videos in the basement was no way to train for a street fight. Everybody had to learn the hard way. There were no shortcuts.

No time to fret, though, because Miles's opening gambit was the signal for the fun to begin. The goons closed in, and they got real busy, moving as if through unmeasurable slow-time, a state that he always slipped into in combat situations. Sean exploded into action at his side with a spinning kick that caught one of Billy's thugs in the teeth and sent him bouncing off the hood of a car. Flashy, as always.

Billy ran straight at him, bellowing. Connor flipped the cane up into guard. Billy lunged for the bait and gripped the cane, and Connor flip-twisted it, trapped Billy's wrist with his hand, and whipped it down until the bones in Billy's wrist snapped.

Billy lurched forward, sucking air. Connor tossed him away and spun to deal with the guy behind him. He parried the punch, sliced the heel of his hand down onto the bridge of the guy's nose, and kneed him smartly in the groin. A gurgling shriek; two down. Another attack; a sweep of the cane, a quick, judicious elbow jab to the throat, and he used the guy's own leftover momentum to fling him straight into his buddy, who was coming at Connor from behind. The two men crashed to the ground. The point of his boot to the kidney finished off the first guy, a forefinger stabbed into the soft pulse point under the ear finished off the second. Four down. Not bad, for a gimp.

Miles stumbled to his feet again and launched himself at Billy. Billy toppled, broke his fall with his broken wrist, and screamed. Miles started pummeling him. Good man. Connor left him to it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sean smash one guy's kneecap and then spin through the air like a dervish as he went for the next attacker, but he couldn't pay real close attention; the last two guys were circling him warily and both of them had pulled out knives. He danced back, panting, and tried to keep both in his peripheral vision. His bad leg was trembling beneath him.

Darkness rippled, a flurry of movement. One of his opponents flew, shrieking, across the parking lot. He smashed into the grill of a big Chevy pickup truck and slid limply to the ground, twitching.

The other looked around himself, backed away, and fled.

'Hey, Davy,' Connor called out.

Davy stepped out of the shadows, dressed in black. He tossed the blade he'd taken from the guy up into the air, and caught it, nodding his approval. 'Nice balance,' he said calmly. 'Maybe I'll keep this one.'

'Thanks,' Connor said.

'You're welcome.'