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Chapter Eighteen
Rémy
My phone rings in the middle of the night, and I groan as I reach across the bed to snatch it off the nightstand. I don’t want the noise to wake Cora.
It’s been a week since everything went down with Brittney. Things, for the most part, have gone back to normal. Well, I should say a “different” kind of normal. Cora and I have settled into a routine. I take my days off from the club when she does. I only go in if there’s an emergency. I told Julian I didn’t want to be bothered otherwise. During the nights Cora’s supposed to be on stage, I work in my office and take the time to watch her dance when she’s up.
Cora snuggles deeper against me as I blink at the screen, noticing Chains calling me. Swiping my finger across the screen, I bring the phone to my ear and whisper, “What’s the emergency? It better be good, you calling me at this hour.”
“Got four women my prospects are taking to the hospital right now. Figured you’d want to know since they work for you,” Chains growls, earning my full attention.
“What?” I demand, sliding out the bed, doing my best not to wake Cora.
“Angelina is with them,” Chains says, mentioning Pitch Black’s ol’ lady who’s a doctor. “She’s called the ER. The girls were badly beaten and left at my gates. Wanna tell me why I’m getting your girls left atmygates?”
“I don’t know what’s going on, Chains, but far as I know, we don’t have issues with the same people you do,” I say, pulling a pair of jeans on and leaving them unbuttoned. I walk out of my room and head for the office I keep here at the house.
“I know that. I also know that while we were dealing with getting those kids back, I heard whispers of a group called the ‘Uprising’. Have you heard of them?” Chains grunts, and I hear him shuffling something in the background, then a baby’s cry.
Uprising?
“I haven’t heard of them. Thanks for letting me know about the girls. Which hospital are your men taking them to?” I hear the squeak of a door opening and turn to find Cora coming into my office.
Damn. I didn’t mean to wake her.
“One in New Orleans,” Chains mutters. “Need anything, let me know. I’ll let you know if we hear anything else about this group. I’m not getting a good feeling about this. Not when they’re leaving your girls at my door. Whoever it is wants to draw me into a shitstorm. I ain’t about to deal with anymore for a while.”
“I appreciate it. I’ll call Félix and let him know what’s going on. Thanks again.”
“Right.” With that, Chains ends our call.
I pull the phone from my ear and let out a harsh breath.
“Is everything okay?” Cora asks, coming to wrap her arms around my waist.
“No, I’ve gotta get to the hospital and check on a few of the dancers,” I tell her, and Cora pulls back enough to meet my gaze, her eyes widened.
“Do you know who?” she asks.
I shake my head and sigh. “No, but I have a pretty good idea which four dancers were attacked.”
“I’m coming with you,” Cora says, pulling out of my arms. “Come on, let’s get ready.”
A sense of pride fills me. Cora’s always thinking of others before herself. No matter if it’s the ones who’ve said nasty things about her. She just isn’t that kind of person.
Following her out of my office and into the bedroom, we dress quickly. Grabbing my keys from the dresser, I slip on my Sperrys and take Cora’s hand as she joins me.
Without a word, the two of us head for my car in the garage. I hold the door open for her to get in the passenger seat before going to the driver’s side. Climbing in, I start the engine and press the button for the garage door. Backing out, I stop long enough to hit the button, so the garage door closes.
As soon as I pull out onto the street, I call Félix’s number.
“What the hell, Rémy?” he snarls through the line. Félix definitely isn’t a man to wake up in the middle of the night unless you want him to beat the hell out of you.
“Sorry, I wouldn’t call, but I’m on my way to the ER right now,” I tell him as I turn right off my street and make a hard left onto another.
“Explain,” Félix demands, seeming fully awake now.
“Chains called to let me know four of my dancers were left outside the gates of his clubhouse,” I say, before telling him about the conversation, including the whispers of a group called the ‘Uprising’.
