Martinis After Dark (Bernadette's Book 1)

by Gina Drayer

“Too bad I can’t kill you that way. It would raise too many questions. Strangulation on top of a head wound.” He got off the bed and sighed. “Pity. I would have loved to watch you die.” He checked the ropes one more time and then patted her thigh. “I better get the gasoline out of the van and get on with things. I don’t have all day.”

  As he stood, she knew this was her chance. He was making a mistake. Despite being groggy, muddle-headed, when he left to go to the van she could find a way to get free. To get her cell phone and call 911.

  She was looking up at the distorted vision of his face, waiting for him to leave. But instead, he bent down and grabbed her hair again. He lifted her head and the blurry image of his fist filled her field of vision. It smashed into her face, sending ribbons of pain through her head and neck. Then there was nothing.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Time for you to get up, loser,” Cash said and kicked the bed frame.

  Dylon rolled over and shielded his eyes against the bright morning sun. “You need to invest in some curtains,” he said and pulled the covers over his head.

  “We’re redoing this room. It’s going to be the nursery.” Cash grabbed the comforter and yank. “Seriously, your ass needs to hit the road. It’s already nine.”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me?” Dylon whined.

  “Damn right, I am. You need to deal with Lee before she walks out on your sorry ass for good. Besides,” he said, quirking his mouth up into a grin. “The sooner I get you out of here, the sooner I can call Kim and have her come home. And while you are cute, in a tattooed and pierced kind of way, you aren’t my kink. She most definitely is.”

  “How’d I get up here anyways?” Dylon asked, looking around. He didn’t remember coming upstairs at all.

  “You passed out on the sofa, but around three you got up because you needed to tell me all about the way Lee’s eyes were magic. And then you threw up,” Cash said, frowning. “Thanks for that by the way, my room reeks. Once you were feeling better, I managed to get you in bed. But now, I want you to leave.”

  “Then I’d better get on my horse.” Dylon let out a dejected sigh.

  The decision he’d made the day before weighed on him. This was going to be a first for him. Admitting to a woman that he’d treated her badly wasn’t his style at all. Not that he was afraid to admit his mistakes—he just couldn’t remember the last time he’d done something this stupid. Yet, if he didn’t do something to make up for his mistake, Dylon knew he’d lose her. For good.

  And that was unacceptable.

  Even through the haze of his hangover, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing Lee. He was in love with her. Love. He never thought he’d use that word, and for the first time in his life, he wasn’t willing to take the easy out. He wanted with her what Cash had with Kim. And his friend was right about one thing: Lee was worth the fight.

  He took a long shower and tried to come up with a game plan. Fuck. This wasn’t going to be easy. He didn’t just dump her. He’d rejected her when she needed him the most. He was such an asshole.

  “You’re stalling,” Cash yelled and banged on the bathroom door.

  “I don’t want to show up looking like a bum.”

  “You don’t need to look perfect. In fact, you should look like you’ve suffered a little without her. How else will she know that you can’t live without her? Let her see what a sorry state you’re in.”

  “Right. Like you are some kind of expert.”

  Cash stuck his head in the bathroom and grinned. “Which of us here has a sexy wife and a happy home?” He raised his hand and waved. “And who is trying to salvage a relationship he personally train-wrecked? Expert is a relative term, and I win that title today.”

  “Fine, I’m leaving,” Dylon said. He dressed and headed for the bar. His stomach was really giving him fits now, but it wasn’t because of the booze. It was panic. It almost made him laugh when he thought about it. Dylon Knightly didn’t panic over a woman. He usually didn’t care enough.

  But this was different. Lee, no matter what she was using for her last name, was not just some chick he’d picked up at the bar. She was special.

  You were supposed to fall for that special girl, the one that made life worth living. That was how all the movies went. All those fucking sappy love songs. That special girl was the one you wanted to be with all the time, even out of bed.

  Honestly, he’d never met a woman he thought was that special. There were nice ones, and fun ones, and sexy ones, but none of them were so special that he was willing to pass on all the others. Dylon had enjoyed a variety of women, but they were largely interchangeable and plentiful. None of them was worth going to too much trouble for.

  Until he met Lee.

  She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d been with. But she sure had something that he couldn’t get out of his system. And despite what he’d told himself last night, he couldn’t imagine his life without her.

  Damn the woman. He hated feeling this anxiety. Was that part of love? That dull ache in your gut when you thought about life without the other person. He’d have to learn how to make it work because Cash was right, he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t try.

  It was a warm early winter day in the city. But there was a chill in the air. The cool wind stung his cheeks as he walked the few blocks back to the bar. The streets were busy with people in a hurry, ignorant of their surroundings. It was a day like any other, except that this morning was bursting with that full-of-promise kind of feeling.

  That was part of love, too. Satisfying his lust and desire with a sexy woman made him feel good, really good, but nothing like this. He felt hopeful for the future. A future with Lee by his side.

  She’d be pissed at him for a while, but he’d reason with her. He’d hold her and tell he wanted her to stay. No, he needed her to stay. They’d figure out her legal problems. Even if she wasn’t ready to share, he’d be there for her. And he’d just have to make her see that no matter who she was or what she’d done, they could make it work.

  When he found out the truth about her, he’d been afraid that she was just like his mother. That her lies proved she didn’t have a stake in making their relationship work. He knew the second her legal problems were over, she’d split, and go back to her old life. But now that he’d had time to think about it, he knew that wasn’t true. She’d already invested in him, in the bar, and in building a life there. And her actions spoke louder than any fears he had.

  She was a good person, and a woman worth fighting for. A keeper, Cash had said.

  Determination made him pick up his pace and head for Bernadette’s in long, purposeful strides that made people clear a path for him.

  The hell of it was, the more he thought about life without Lee, the more anxious he got. He needed to see her face. Once he saw her, then it would be real, and he could talk to her. He could tell her everything, and mostly tell that simple, stupid truth—that he loved her and needed her. That she had to stay with him.

  She might already be gone. He’d been assuming she’d be there, but there was no reason for her to stay for two days just because he’d given her that long. She was proud, and she could have very easily left already.

  The thought worried him. If he hadn’t gotten stupid drunk last night, he could have come over and worked things out. That is, as soon as he’d figured out that he loved her.

  What would he do if she was gone? Where would he start looking for her? He had no idea where she was from, much less where she intended to go.

  His phone started to ring, and he was annoyed that Cash was already checking up on him. But instead of Cash, Michael’s number flashed on the screen.

  “It’s not a good time,” Dylon said.

  “I kind of figured by that cryptic text you sent yesterday,” Michael said. “If you need some time off, I can cover for you. Why don’t I came in today and open?”

  “I appreciate it, but I need one more night.” As he came close to the ba
r, Dylon pulled his keys out of his pocket. “After that, everything will be back to normal. I did something stupid, and I just need—”

  Dylon stopped before reaching the front door. Something was wrong.

  A strange blue delivery van was blocking the alleyway by his back door. That could be just opportunistic parking, but when he looked closely, he noticed the window next to the back door was busted. Shoving the keys back in his pocket, he headed down the alley to investigate.

  “Is something wrong?” Michael asked.

  “I don’t know. Give me a sec.” Dylon unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Fuck,” he said under his breath.

  Broken glass from the window covered the floor of the storeroom. It wouldn’t be the first time that someone had broken it and reached in through it, to use some kind of hook to open the fire door to rob the place. But this time, Lee was upstairs, alone.

  “Dylon? Don’t leave me hanging.”

  “Let me call you back. I think someone broke into the bar.”

  He was just about to hang up when he saw the shoe. A woman’s shoe. Lee’s shoe, lying abandoned in the middle of the dark hall. Dylon went cold. All kinds of horrific images of Lee’s battered and abused body filled his head.

  “Call the cops,” he said. “I think Lee’s in trouble. Tell them to get here right away.”

  He didn’t wait to hear Michael’s response before hanging up. He went in through the open door, moving cautiously through the storeroom. His first thought was that Lee had interrupted a robbery. But as his eyes adjusted to the dim light everything seemed to be in place.

  Then a sharp smell assaulted his nose. It was a strong and pungent odor and very familiar. He took a few more steps down the hall, and figured out what it was when he stepped in a puddle. Gasoline coated the floor.

  Dylon moved quickly toward the bar, looking for the source of the liquid. The floor of the hallway was covered in the stuff, but there was still no sign of Lee. The sound of footsteps echoed from the empty stairway to his left. They sounded too heavy to be hers. He could only hope that she’d stayed hidden away and was safe upstairs.

  He took the stairs two at a time until he reached the third floor. The door to her apartment was standing open, and he peered around the corner. A man he’d never seen before was holding a gas can, turning in a circle as he sprinkled gasoline around the living room, wetting down everything.

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  The man glanced at him with surprise, then scowled, looking less than pleased to be interrupted. “Oh, you’re here,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting you, but the nice thing about a good plan is that it offers room for improvisation. We have to learn to be flexible.”

  The guy was obviously off his rocker. Dylon knew he’d have to tread carefully. And where the fuck was Lee? Dylon scanned the room for her. Then he heard a muffled sound coming from the bedroom. Looking past the crazy man, he saw Lee lying crumpled up on the bed, not moving.

  “What the hell did you do to Lee?” Dylon had to fight back the urge to run to her. His pulse raced in his ears. The sound was like a freight train. He almost missed what the asshole in front of him was saying.

  “Don’t worry. She’s still alive. Of course, I had to hit her a few times. She tried to run away, and that would’ve ruined everything.”

  Dylon couldn’t believe the man could stand there calmly pouring gasoline around the room while admitting he’d assaulted Lee. Lee stirred, and Dylon moved toward her.

  “I don’t think so,” the man said and produced a gun from his pocket. “Stay still. I don’t want to shoot you. Honestly, it would have been better if you had waited a little bit to come home. This is going to get messy.”

  Dylon stopped. “If it’s money you want, I can open the safe.”

  The man laughed and shook his head. “Keep your peanuts. No, that bitch cost me more than this fucking hole-in-the-wall bar could make in a decade.”

  “Then what do you want?” Dylon said and took a step closer to Lee.

  “The bitch betrayed me, and I’m going to make her pay.”

  “We can work this out,” Dylon said, trying to reason with the man. “I’m sure there’s something you want. Something that will make this right without hurting anyone.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. It’s either her or me. Stop,” he said, raising the gun. “There is a hell of a lot of gasoline on the floor between us and the bedroom. All I have to do is toss my lighter, and she is, as they say, toast.” He set down the gas can and fished a lighter out of his pocket, all the while keeping the gun trained on Dylon. “If you insist on playing hero, I’ll set this place on fire right now. If you are foolish enough to make a dash for her, you’ll just die too. There is enough gasoline to burn the two of you to cinders along with this whole building.”

  “Why?”

  “I had a story, and you’re screwing it up. The story is important,” he screamed, waving the gun. He shook his head as if the motion would clear out the crazy. “I can make this work. I can fix it. If you die trying to save her, it’s just a slightly different story, but I can make it work. You two were burning the bar for the insurance and somehow got trapped. You died together. A more romantic spin.”

  It dawned on Dylon that this man was completely delusional, and that made him more dangerous. He needed to keep him calm so the police had time to show up. He really hoped Michael had listened and called the police.

  “I don’t understand. Why do you need to kill her? Whatever you two were involved with is over.”

  “She didn’t tell you? How interesting.” The man smiled. “Initially, all I wanted to do was scare her. I just needed to keep her from testifying. But she wouldn’t go away, and my associate doesn’t like loose ends.” He rubbed his chin just below a faded bruise and Dylon got the idea. “But you know what? I’m taking care of my problems. This is going to fix everything.”

  “You’re insane,” Dylon said before he could stop himself.

  The man seemed to consider it. “Such a fine line between insanity and genius. What does it matter?”

  Dylon almost laughed. He was right. Whether the guy was sane or crazy, it didn’t change a damn thing. It didn’t make the lighter he held any less of a threat. He glanced around, looking for anything he could use as a weapon. The bottle of wine Lee had bought earlier was sitting on the counter. A hard bottle that Dylon could club a man with, but to get to it he needed a distraction, a chance to grab it without the man lighting his lighter.

  “I think this is the part where you try to save the girl.” The man glanced over his shoulder to where Lee was lying, limp and unmoving. “Go for it. It will make it easier for me to kill you.”

  “I don’t want any trouble,” Dylon said, holding up both his hands in surrender.

  “Not the hero type, then? Disappointing.” He looked around the room and sighed. “I need to figure out where to put you. Maybe you should be with Lee. Or coming up the stairs. Decisions, decisions.”

  While the man was ranting, Dylon reached down to the little table by the door and found the bowl Lee tossed her keys in. The crazy dude paid little attention as he palmed the glass bowl and hid it behind his back. He took a step forward, and the guy stopped pacing. But before he could turn the gun back on him, Dylon made his move.

  The bowl was solid, and with a deft flick of his wrist, he sent it flying toward the man’s face. On reflex, the guy put up the hand holding the lighter to deflect the object. Dylon used that brief distraction to race to the kitchen counter, grabbed the wine bottle, and chucked it straight at the man’s head. His aim was good, and the projectile caught the intruder in the head. The guy stumbled backward and tripped over the coffee table, wedging himself between the table and the sofa.

  During the fall, he dropped the gun. Without missing a beat, Dylon kicked it under the sofa and then kneed the man in the face. Repeatedly. The guy slumped to the floor.

  It was the break he needed. Dylon ran to the other room, u
ntied Lee’s hands, and scooped her off the bed. She made a soft whimpering sound, but her eyes never opened. He didn’t have time to assess her injuries. They had to get the fuck out of there before that crazy-ass psycho set them all on fire.

  Tossing her over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold, Dylon raced through the room to the door. She moaned pitifully, but he didn’t have time to be gentle. He was almost to the hallway when the crazy guy, back on his feet, started swinging the gas can wildly. The heavy can caught Dylon’s back, throwing him off center. He fell to his knees, cradling Lee so she wouldn’t fall.

  Before Dylon had a chance to get back up, the guy was on him, pulling him back into the room. After a few seconds of struggling, Dylon managed to get in a solid kick to the other man in the knee. With a high-pitched cry, he finally went down, but Dylon wasn’t going to stick around to see if it was for good.

  “I won’t let you get away,” the madman shouted and he raised his lighter, setting fire to the room.

  Dylon had to do something. The fire was spreading fast, and the room filled with smoke. He grabbed Lee, pulling her over his shoulder again and ran toward the stairs.

  As they passed, he noticed there was another gas can by the sofa. The other guy had managed to crawl to it, and tossed it in the direction of the exit as Dylon left, spraying gasoline into the air.

  A loud whooshing sound filled the room behind him, followed by a scream. Dylon turned to see the lunatic stumbling to the door, enveloped in flames. Thick black smoke billowed from the room as the gasoline burned. Without looking back, he carried Lee down the stairs and ran straight into Michael.

  “The police are on their way,” the bartender said and reached for Lee.

  Dylon wouldn’t let go of her. He couldn’t. Not until he knew she was safe. “We need to get out of here. That lunatic set the building on fire,” Dylon said.

  “There’s someone else up there?” Michael’s whole demeanor shifted as he looked up the stairs. Gone was the easygoing bartender and in his place was the tested fireman. “Take Lee and move away from the building. Don’t wait inside. Call 911 and report the fire.”