Page 35 of Tempting To Touch


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“I don’t want you going in there alone,” I counter, not letting her sleeve go. “That SUV is still here, and we don’t know if those men are still here as well.”

“There’s no one here now but Myers and Chrissy,” Kathleen says in a tone of voice that’s meant to soothe me. It does exactly the opposite of that, though.

Soon enough, Kathleen pulls her sleeve free of my grip, giving me a sort of parting glance to ease my worry. The fear clenches my heart like a vice when her light bobs and disappears into the darkness. It feels as if I’m letting half of my soul walk into the unknown. This woman has no idea the power she holds over me. If she did, she would stay glued to my side at all times instead.

“Boss,” Myers’ weak voice rasps from below where I’m kneeling down. “They want…they came for her. They were looking for her….”

“What?” I ask him, a slow fear filling me with dread. Of course, there’s a new issue. “What the hell are you talking about, Myers? Who were they looking for?”

“Chrissy let the other girls leave early so that she could call the janitor to clean up a mess someone had made on the stage,” Myers grits out, trying to sit up slowly.

“So that’s where all of the girls went then,” I nod, finally understanding. “That’s why it was dark in here. It wasn’t open at the time.” I had told the girls if they were ever having a bad night or something was happening, they could close early.

“It was just the two of us, and I was helping her clean the poles,” Myers says, and I wonder, in the back of my mind, if that’s a euphemism for something else.

“They broke a window in the back. I could tell that they were drunk. There are four of them, boss,” Myers says, the dread building. “They were looking for Kat.”

A type of fear that I have never known before clouds my vision as I scramble from my kneeling position and take off into the darkness of the club. Flashes of Kathleen dance in my head, flickering like a memorial to her, though I promise myself that I won’t lose her.

I see her in my lap and smiling in the diner as we drink coffee. I can see her at the theater house, her eyes lit up like stars as she watches the men and their lady leads go back and forth.

I can almost feel the softness of her skin as I run desperately for her, knowing I’ll be lost if anything happens to her. I would kill for and because of this woman.

Loud laughter is the first thing that I hear, and it makes my heart squeeze in my chest. Anger tips my emotions on the scale, and I feel as if I can’t control myself.

The thought of anyone hurting the woman I love has me in a frenzy, digging my fingers into my skin and hoping against hope that she’s okay.

“Yeah, we got your whore,” calls a sickening voice from behind one of the mirrors where the girls usually sit and get ready. I recognize it as Chrissy’s mirror.

“Let her go, and I won’t kill you,” I growl, whipping around when a gust of wind whirls by me. They’re being sneaky and toying with me, moving quickly around.

There’s another loud burst of laughter, and I hear a smack, followed by a whimper. What comes out of my mouth can only be described as aroar.

Rage burns through me, and I stalk around the mirrors, hot in my leather jacket.

Where is my girl?

“Kathleen? Baby?” I call out, my voice breaking desperately. “I’m going to tear them apart, do you hear me? Don’t be scared, baby. I’m coming for you.”

“Go to hell,” the same piss-poor rendition of a man’s voice calls out once more. “She’s mine now, and she’s gonna give me what I want, or I’ll kill you both. You made a stupid ass mistake coming between me and what’s mine. Fuck off.”

She’s gonna give me what I want. This makes my head spin with livid rage.

To think that somewhere back here, Kathleen is being harassed by these men. I grab a chair and slam it into the mirror in front of me, shattering the glass across the floor.

There’s a sudden cry of surprise, this time without the false bravado of before. One of the men tumbles out from behind the other mirror.

He holds up his hands and points away. “Hey, man, I’m not armed. It’s Arnold, man. He’s the one that wants your girl. He’s the one that’s obsessed with her.”

A sudden shot rings out, and I duck for cover, watching as the kid falls to the floor in a pool of his own blood. Well, at least I know they have guns now, and they don’t like being snitched on by their own men.

Though really, these are just boys. Not real men.

“Where is she…,” I begin to shout, stopping dead and cold in my tracks.

A heartbreaking scream rings out, sending a chill through me.

CHAPTERELEVEN

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