“What is going on with you and that Dom guy, Sienna? He went after Mr. F like an avenger. You do not want to shit where you eat, girl. What are you doing? People are talking. You need to know that. And getting involved with one of the security? Those biker dudes don’t play nice, and they are not here for us. You know that, right? They are only here for the Boss. And the Boss is all about Mr. F. That Dom must have a death wish, to go after Mr. F like that. This cannot end well for you, Sienna. You need to straighten your shit out.”
She wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t know. “Listen, Ayzh, I know. I hear you. It’s just… I don’t know. Right now, I’m really grateful he stepped in. Did you see what Mr. F did? But it doesn’t matter, I’m good now. It’s all good. Whatever happens to Dom… well, that’s his business, not mine. I didn’t ask him for anything, and I won’t. I got my plan, and I’m sticking to it. Don’t worry ’bout me, okay? It’s all going to be fine.”
“Oh, honey.” She wrapped her arms around my shoulders from behind and rested her cheek on top of my head. “I do not like your plan.”
I’d known Asia for going on six years; she was my first friend in town, and we’d seen each other through a lot of bad shit. She was my rock through everything that had happened with Tania, and she got me through those first few months after her death, when I could barely think straight between my grief and my anger. And she was the only other dancer here who knew my plan. She may not have liked it, but at least she understood it, and I knew she was not trying to talk me out of it. There was nothing on Earth that could.
I let her hold on to me another several seconds, returning the hug with her forearms in my hands. Then I gave them a squeeze to let her know it was enough. I stood up to get dressed back in my street clothes: a pair of dark tight skinny jeans, an off-the-shoulder knit top in marine blue that did wonders for my skin tone, and my favorite pair of tall brown leather boots with a killer heel.
“It’s all going to work out. Actually, maybe it’s perfect, now. I’ve got the perfect excuse to get Mr. Ronn on his own, without any of the biker guys. I can play the sympathy card; they’ll all eat it up. Don’t worry ’bout me, okay, hon? I think I just need to get out there and let it roll. I can make this work.”
She looked at me and slowly nodded. “I can see you think you will. Just be super careful, okay?”
“Yeah, okay. Hey—can you tell me, did you see where Mr. F went after I left, out there? Is he still hanging around? I really don’t want to run into him again tonight.”
“Oh, you don’t gotta worry ‘bout him tonight, baby girl.” She let out a single laugh. “His nose was messed up so bad, I’m pretty sure he’s long gone. Gotta fix himself pretty again. He’ll be licking his wounds for a little while.”
“Good. Thanks, Ayzh. Really.” I took a steadying breath and stood up again, boots now zipped. I grabbed my shoulder bag, checked it for its most important resident handgun, and turned toward the door. “Okay. Let’s do this. Wish me luck.”
“Always, babe. Do what you need to do. Even if I hate for you to do it.”
I looked at her one last time and nodded with a little half smile and determination in my eyes. “Onward.” And I left in search of my prey.
When I reached the main clubroom, I was ready to finally end this thing. Clearly, my asshat boss had been ready to pimp me out to his VIP, so I was done with this gig. No matter that I hadn’t quite saved up enough money to do what I really wanted to do yet; no matter that I hadn’t planned on tonight being the night. The fact was, it had gotten too dangerous for me here in the club. Dom could not be there to protect me during every shift, and I could not allow myself to have to rely on any man for protection. So, if it was unsafe, it needed to stop, and I needed to go. ASAP.
Looking around, I didn’t see Mr. Ronn, and I didn’t see Dom. It was as if my eyes were conditioned like Pavlov’s dog to always search him out in any new space. I really did need to get my head clear of him; he was getting to be like an addiction for me—one I needed to steer clear of, for the rest of tonight at least. And after that, the likelihood of seeing him again dropped off into an infinitesimally small ratio. All the better, my mind tried to insist. I couldn’t say my heart or body was buying it.
I stopped at the bar to ask Petra if she knew where I could find Mr. Ronn. As was predictable, he was upstairs in his office. Not my lucky day—I’d have to get through two of the biker brutes to get to him: one just to get on the fucking elevator, and the other at the door. Presuming he was even alone in the office; half the time, he kept one inside as well, guarding the door from the inside. The Boss was fucking paranoid.