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I turn and my gaze returns to the bar, and now Smith is standing there, a beer in hand, that he lifts in my direction in a barely perceivable motion. I’m surrounded by discreet bodyguards and while I’m not worried for me, I am worried for Gordan. Feeling empowered, I give Smith a lift of a finger, and then cut to my left, weaving through tables until I’m at the dance floor, which is set-up much like an ice skating rink with tables all around it. There are also high narrow bar tables of wooden planks, with barstools in front of them, so that those lucky ones who find seats can watch the dancing while drinking. I head for the left side of the dance floor and just when I’m about to give up on this side of the floor, I find Gordan and his roommate sitting on the last two barstools.
Nerves explode in my belly and I don’t know why. Of course, I know why. This man isn’t a killer. He’s a redheaded Opie, who is super sweet. But he might be a target of a killer, one who will be on alert the minute I approach him. Suddenly this feels like a bad idea, but so does letting one more second pass when this man might know how to protect my father and Rick. Because Rick might be a killer, but there are killers planning to kill him, too.
Nerves go away with that thought. Sam Hunt’s “Body Like a Backroad” comes on and the dance floor is suddenly ten times more packed. A space next to Gordan opens and I seize the moment. I close the space between me and him, and step to his side, opposite his friend. Grabbing the bar, I glance over at him. “Hi, Gordan.”
He looks up mid-laugh and his green eyes go wide. He turns to face me. “Candace.”
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi,” he croaks. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“No.” I lean in close to him, whispering in his ear to overcome the volume of the music. “I need your help. My father is involved with something that’s gone south. I think he’s in danger. I know you know details.” I pull back and his expression is ghostly, the lines of his face etched hard despite his full cheeks. He shoves his glasses up his nose, stands up, and downs the drink in front of him. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that downs his drinks, but I don’t really know him. I also notice that his wild red curls, which I’ve spied on a few occasions, are presently buzzed short. After basic, a buzzed cut is not regulation, and far from standard in his administrative role where headgear isn’t a consideration. He leans over and says something to his friend, and then turns to me, motioning me onward.
That’s when the lights go out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Savage
The bar goes pitch black, the kind of pitch-black men like me know as the dark side of bloody.
Exactly why the minute the lights are out, I close the few steps between me and Candace, and grab her hand, becoming the body armor I’d vowed to become earlier this very night. “Don’t move,” I murmur by her ear.
“Gordan,” she whispers, gripping my shirt. “Rick, what about Gordan? Where is he?”
Cell phones start flickering around us, flashlights blasting through the darkness. “You’re my concern,” I say by her ear. “One of our men will grab Gordan. I’ve got them on a hot mic.”
“Gordan,” she whispers. “He’s why we’re here.”
I catch her hair with a firm enough grip to shock her. This is about safety, her safety. I give a sharp whisper of, “Quiet, baby.”
Proving how damn stubborn she is, she doesn’t even think about being quiet. “Shine a light and look for him, Rick.”
“No light,” I bite out. “Just wait.”
It’s right then that Adam speaks into the earpiece I’m wearing. “Savage?”
“Adam’s speaking to me,” I warn her before I answer him. “I’ve got Candace,” I respond. “Negative on Gordan. What about you, Smith?” I ask because we’re all connected. Me, Smith, Adam, and Asher.
“Negative,” he replies, but he’s not on the mic. He’s right beside us. “He’s not fucking here.”
“He hasn’t exited the building through the front,” Asher chimes in.
“Or the back,” Adam adds.
Or they missed him, I think.
The lights come on and the DJ sounds off. “Boo. Halloween is over but we’re still bringing the spooky to your weekend. How was that for getting your adrenaline flowing?” he asks and the crowd cheers.
“Stay behind me,” I order in Candace’s ear. “Don’t move until I say move and then we’re going straight to the exit.” I turn, using my body as a shield as the DJ continues speaking. “Let’s get that dance floor moving again.” “Old Town Road” starts to play and the crowd is pure electric energy. The kind of crowd you can get lost or killed in just as easily.
