And then it's all over. He pulls back and returns to his desk as if nothing happened, clicking on the desk lamp once again.
"Get the fuck outta here, girl, you got a shift to finish."
I didn't have to be told twice.
I ran out the door, back into the dingy club and the oppressive music. My skin is burning with heat and anger, fear almost crippling me. But I can't tell the bartender what happened, so I grab my tray and simply go back to work.
Kaiden, where are you?
I have a really bad feeling about this. Already the guys I'm supposed to meet are running fifteen minutes late. I've dealt with a lot of bullshit over the years running drugs for Ryder, and I know that when someone's late it's because they're getting cold feet. And the only reason someone truly involved with this business gets cold feet is because they're planning on screwing you over.
I sit back in the seat, looking at the guy next to me. He's shorter and scrawnier, looks like a junkie, but I know he isn't because Ryder won't hire a junkie. Too big of a risk of losing product.
His name's Mustang or something stupid like that, but I've worked with him a couple times before and he's surprisingly sharp.
We're in the middle of nowhere, but I recommended the spot. I don't know why, but when we were kids, Abigail's dad and my mom took us here. I guess it was just to show us a life outside of suburbia. We spent days going from small town to small town, talking to people, spending the night in "mom & pop" motels.
And then we went camping, out in the middle of nowhere, just us and the stars. We purposefully tried to find a place that was just far enough away from anything that we could feel really alone.
A bonding exercise, mom called it.
Abigail and I shared a tent, stayed up so late just listening to the little night critters come out and scuttle around, telling each other ghost stories and giggling until mom and dad had enough and threatened to take us back to the city.
I look back at the desert, over the utter darkness that sprawls out in all directions and let my stomach and heart turn to steel. This is for her, I remind myself. If I can do this one thing for her, just get us out of this place...
I don't have time to finish my thoughts. There's headlights in the distance, probably a few miles away, heading towards us. I nudge Mustang. He gets out of the van, and I follow, my hand on my gun.
I check my phone again, feeling terrified.
Ryder's words, the cold way he'd said them... I want out, but how can I leave without Kaiden getting in shit?
I'm in so far over my head, and I keep fucking up drink orders, which I never do. I'm a perfectionist, even at this, but I just don't have my head together. I give another apologetic smile to one of my regulars — Ryan. Every day he orders a rum and coke. So why did I bring him a whiskey?
My hands are shaking as I take the drink back, but he's looking at me with concern. He's probably forty or so, I guess, and even after a couple of drinks is nothing but a gentleman, which is more than I can say for anyone else here.
"You alright, darling?" he asks with none of the aggression of most of my clients, and I give him a half smile.
"Yea, sorry. I'll go fix your drink," I apologize, but he reaches out before I can and lightly grabs my hand.
"C'mon now, Abigail. I ain't never seen you less than chipper, even when that guy laid hands on you. You always come back like nothin's the matter, so this gotta be serious," he says, his voice lowered.
I hate it when people can see right through me.
Sometimes I just wear my emotions too clearly, but he's right. Here? I've been able to suck it all up and just hide it, but not tonight. I'm really, genuinely worried. I just have this feeling in my stomach like something is very, very wrong.
I bite on my lower lip, shaking my head.
"It's nothing. I just haven't seen Kaiden lately and usually he's here by now." How stupid do I sound? Most customers know my relationship with Kaiden isn't great and even a ton of non-regulars have seen us fight more than a couple times. Ryan has definitely seen more than his fair share of our screaming matches, despite his insistence that I'm always chipper.
I take a deep breath and shake my head before looking back at Ryan and giving him an apologetic half smile.
But then I see something in his eyes. Something that confirms everything I dread.
My shoulders slump.
"Oh my God, what's wrong? What's happened?" I ask, and my blood turns to ice. He can't be dead. I suck in air, my heart racing as panic grips me, and Ryan's hand tightens around mine.
"He's had to work out some things with Ryder in the desert," he says, and the apologetic tone...
Ryder's going to kill him!
I glance up at the bar just in time to see the golden hair of Ryder making his way past the crowd to the door, pushing out. Seconds later I hear the rev of his bike, and I pull away from Ryan.