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My stomach lurched. I threw myself down into a crouch beneath the level of the table, squeezing between the chairs on either side of me.
Thank God I hadn’t continued straight to that door and opened it myself. Three men and a woman sauntered out of the office, muttering to each other, one letting out a dark chuckle. All of them moved with obvious strength, twisted tattoos winding across one man’s neck and the woman’s arms, another man sporting a scar stretching across his cheek to his jaw.
The woman ran her hand through her spiky pixie cut, which was a flat black color I had to assume was dyed, and her leather jacket rode up enough for me to spot the handle of a pistol tucked in the back of her jeans. One of the men lifted his hand, and I realized he was outright holding a gun himself. My breath snagged in my throat.
Okay, these people were definitely dangerous. Shit. What the hell had I gotten myself into?
The four figures had gathered around the bar, one of them going behind to grab a bottle I couldn’t make out the label on. It took several more seconds before my panic evened out enough for me to pay attention to the conversation they were having in aggressive tones that only set me more on edge.
“Pop a cap in all of them. It’s the most effective way to stop their shit,” the man with the bottle said in a deep, angry voice as he poured the alcohol into a couple of glasses.
The guy with the gun snatched one of the glasses and let out a sigh of frustration. “We’ve got to catch the pricks first. Their staff don’t know shit about this.”
“We can’t let them get away with it,” the third guy said. “A little rivalry is fine, but when they stoop to the level of vandalizing our property? Fuck that. They’re all a bunch of low-life scumbags anyway. We’d be doing the city a service getting rid of the fuckers.”
“No kidding,” the woman said in a guttural voice, and made a grabby gesture toward the bottle. “You going to pour some of that for me?”
They were definitely criminals, but there was no reason to think that they had anything to do with my car or Dad’s box from what they’d said so far. I held the rest of my body perfectly still while my head swiveled, considering possible escape routes.
The conclusion crept over me with a sinking sensation in my gut that I was screwed unless the group at the bar left before anyone came in the front where they could spot me under the table. I couldn’t make a run for the front door without those four noticing me; same story with the back hall. The tables might be close together, but that only worked against me. If I tried to squeeze around them toward the hall, I’d end up brushing against a chair and drawing attention to myself.
Maybe this bunch would leave after they’d had their drink and hashed out their problem a little more? Surely they weren’t going to hang out there all the way until opening time.
“Marvin’s right,” the first man was saying. “They attacked us, and we have to retaliate. Otherwise we’re just inviting them to screw us over again.”
“Can’t be anything too blatant,” the second guy said. “We don’t want the police getting all up in our shit.”
The glasses clinked, and then one of the pairs of legs moved toward my table. My hunched stance went even more rigid. I stared at the jean-clad legs and the scuffed leather boots beneath them, willing them to stop, to head somewhere else.
The man did stop, but right at the edge of the table next to mine. If he came much farther around it and looked down, he’d see me for sure. He set his glass down on the table and drummed his fingers against the surface, each tap reverberating alongside my thudding heart.
This was bad. Really bad. Every particle in my body balked against the realization rising up in me, but I couldn’t deny it.
I’d gotten myself into a horrible jam, and I was going to need help if I wanted to have a decent chance of getting out of it unharmed. What was more important, my pride or ensuring these people didn’t “pop a cap” inme?
If Logan never let me live it down, well… I guessed I’d have to back out of any further parts of the investigation. A flush that was part frustration, part shame prickled over my face, but my panic blared far louder.
I didn’t want todie. Fighting off a single unarmed thug was one thing. Taking on four criminals, at least two of whom had guns… I wasn’t a superhero. I could admit I’d gotten out of my depth.
Breathing softly and shallowly, I eased my hand over to my pocket. Ever so carefully, I slid out my phone. My hand shook, but the guy at the nearby table was focused on his companions, grumbling about trashing somebody’s home. I still had a little time before I was discovered.
The name at the top of my recent text threads was Dexter. Well, he was the most reliable out of the three guys anyway. I certainly couldn’t call on anyone outside the Vigil to extricate me from this ridiculous mess. The thought of trying to explain to Keeley what was going on made me shiver. And I could hardly call the police when technicallyIwas the only one who’d done anything illegal here, sneaking into a building where I had no permission to be.
I set the phone on silent, typed out a shaky message as quickly as I could with my trembling fingers, hit send, and slid the device back into my pocket. Please, let them get here fast. Let them know how to create some kind of distraction so that I could get out of here.
Just let them come. They had to come, or I was the one who’d be screwed.
