Unfortunately, the sight of the tempting angel didn’t last long. Just as she was about to meet the stage, the power went out…and never came back on. It took a second or two before I realized it wasn’t part of the show. That’s about the time the rest of the club came to the same conclusion, the room erupting in escalating levels of chaos.
I, on the other hand, never moved from my seat. The darkness didn’t frighten me; I was used to living in it. While the suddenness of it lit a spark of concern within me, it wasn’t enough to force me to my feet. I figured it would be best to stay put and wait it out. After all, this was Las Vegas—it was just as bright at midnight as it was at noon. I had nothing to worry about.
Or so I thought at the time.
Shortly after complete darkness blinded the room, the emergency lights came on. Though, they weren’t enough to see much more than where the exits were located. And by the sounds of it, the exits were blocked. Again, another reason to stay where I was. There was no point in rushing to the doors just to stand in the middle of a sea of bodies, shoving their way toward nowhere.
Soon, my eyes began to adjust to the room, making it easier to notice the track lighting along the floor. I assumed they were meant to mark the pathways for the servers so they could see where they were walking during the show. There had been several times during the two dances when the lights flickered on and off to the beat of the song. Without a lead, it would’ve been impossible for anyone to keep up with drink orders if they were constantly running into tables and chairs.
Between the soft glow of the track along the floor, the dim exit signs on the walls, and the random, small emergency lights in the ceiling, I could see enough to assess the situation. A shadowy mob had gathered at the front, likely trying to escape. Murmurs of paranoia drifted to my table. Someone mentioned a gunman while another declared it to be a terrorist attack. Either way, I hadn’t been made aware of anything that would’ve warranted such claims.
“Everyone, calm down!” someone shouted from across the room. I couldn’t see him, but from the booming sound of his voice, I imagined he was a bouncer or part of the security team. Either way, there was a definite air of authority to him. But unfortunately, his presence wasn’t enough to calm down the crowd, causing him to repeat himself a few times before enough silence fell over the room for him to be heard properly. “At this time, the cause of the power failure is unknown. With that being said, for precautionary reasons, we are closing the doors. No one is permitted to leave until we’ve assessed the situation. We need everyone to move away from the exits and take a seat. As soon as we hear something, we’ll let you know. But for now, we need you all to calm down and let us do our job.”
The frantic crowd quickly turned into an angry mob. And for some reason, many of them believed they’d get to leave if they threatened to never visit this hotel again. Somehow, in their minds, that made sense. In reality, it was absurd—this was Las Vegas, where there was no shortage of visitors needing rooms. To me, that would be like a patient telling a hospital they’d never come back because they got orange Jell-O instead of red.
Rather than everyone returning to the seats they vacated when the lights went out, they all seemed to take the first available spot, which meant my empty table suddenly became crowded. It was enough to force me out of my comfortable booth in search of somewhere I could sit without being sandwiched between conspiracy theorists. I had enough crazy in my life to last until the apocalypse. I didn’t care to deal with more.
Deciding my best option for space would be away from the exits, I followed the lights along the walkway and headed for the quietness in the back of the club. But before I could find an empty seat, I noticed the cage that remained partially tilted on the corner of the stage. It was darker back here, so I couldn’t see as well as I could in the middle of the room, although I could see enough to notice someone—or something—trapped inside.
As I moved closer, the sight before me grew clearer. At first, I wasn’t sure what I was looking at, since her arms were covered in white feathers. But after a moment of steady concentration, I realized it what it was the dancer who’d caught my attention a few moments ago. She sat on her knees with her shoulders curled in, her hands gripping the bars she rested her forehead against. And once I was within a foot of her, I could hear her soft whispers, her soothing words which, from what I could tell, weren’t meant for anyone else to hear.
“Hey, you all right?” It was more of a whisper than I’d planned, but at least she heard me. I could tell that by the change in her breathing, even though she didn’t glance up or move more than adjust her thin fingers on the bars to get a better grip. “Are you hurt?”
I leaned onto the stage with my hands to get closer to her. I wanted to see her better, even if she refused to lift her head or acknowledge me. While getting closer didn’t make it any easier to see her, it did allow me a better look at her situation. From what I could tell, there was a shallow space in the stage that secured the contraption in place once it was lowered from the ceiling. And somehow, the power outage must’ve derailed the landing, preventing it from settling where it was supposed to. With half the cage teetering on the raised ledge, it sat tilted, and likely, unbalanced.
“Listen…I need you to tell me if you’re hurt. There are a lot of people in here, and with as crowded as the exit was when the lights went out, I can only assume that a few of them got trampled on. If you’re injured, I need to find someone who can offer you medical assistance, but I don’t want to call someone over here unnecessarily if you’re okay. So, can you please let me know if you’re all right or not?”
Without sufficient lighting, I couldn’t decipher what she meant when she shook her head, rolling her brow against the bar. But before I could ask for clarification, she sighed, lifted her chin, and whispered, “Get me out of here…please.”
Rather than waste the time by asking how, I decided to figure it out for myself. Which wasn’t as easy as I’d assumed when I hoisted myself onto the stage and began to feel around the bars for a door or a hinge, anything to let me know where her point of exit was. The only thing I—stupidly—neglected to take into consideration was the uneven way the cage sat on its base. Every time I touched the metal frame, it rocked. And every time it rocked, even the tiniest bit, the confined angel gasped or whimpered. If I’d chanced a look at her, or if I’d been able to see her in the muted, dim lighting, I probably would’ve caught her tightening her hold on the bars or curling into herself even more…or both. But I didn’t turn my attention to her, knowing that would only prevent her from getting out sooner.
After feeling my way around the cage without any luck of finding a door, I knelt in front of her and brought my face as close to hers as possible. “I’ll need your help, angel. Got it? I don’t know how this thing works, so you’ll have to either show me or walk me through it. Okay?”
A deep, frustrated growl rolled in my chest as her continued silence drifted between us. There was only so much I could do if she refused to respond to my questions. A very small part of me contemplated leaving, just going back to the floor to find a seat and wait for further instructions from the man who didn’t need a microphone to be heard all around the room. But the rest of me felt compelled to free this bird and make sure she wasn’t hurt. Scared, I could deal with. I would be happy if she were simply crippled by fear. It was the thought of her being injured that kept me from walking away.
I stood and decided to try one more time to find a way to get her out of there. Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out my cell. From the front screen, I found the flashlight icon and tapped it, the built-in bulb on the back of the phone coming to life, illuminating the frightened bird in the cage.
She lifted her chin, eyes blinking rapidly against the harsh light. Her brows were drawn together with only a deep crease separating the two thin, manicured lines, creating something akin to innocence on her face.
“Good. Now that I have got your attention, I need your he
lp to get you out of here.” Granted, now that I had my phone and an aid in seeing where the opening was, I didn’t necessarily need her to assist me. But if it got her mind on something else, then that was better than nothing. “Do you think you can get up?”
She glanced down—again, not speaking as if she were mute—and took a few deep breaths. Then she nodded, and while it wasn’t a verbal response, it was better than nothing. Honestly, had I not already heard her speak when she begged me to get her out of the cage, I would’ve wondered if maybe she didn’t speak English.
It was obvious she was terrified, paralyzed by a fear I couldn’t comprehend. If she suffered from claustrophobia, then I couldn’t imagine why she’d be in there in the first place. Fear of heights…same thing. Maybe she was afraid of the dark. Except that still didn’t make much sense, seeing as how the few dances I’d sat through tonight were done in various stages of obscurity. Regardless, no matter what reason she had for being scared, it shouldn’t prevent her from standing and helping me get her out of this contraption.
She clung to the bars, only removing one hand to grab another as she alternated her hold to make her way around the cage. Every time it wobbled, she’d stop and squeeze her eyes shut, followed by taking a few shaky breaths before braving another step. Watching her maneuver around while crippled by fear made me seriously question if this was the same woman I’d seen descend from the ceiling at the beginning of the song that cut out.
Finally, with the help of the flashlight—not the lack of help I got off this woman—I managed to find the latch that prevented the door from opening mid-air. Once the shaken bird reached me, I handed her my cell and said, “I need you to hold it out like this.” Taking her hand, I pulled her arm through a gap between two bars, disregarding the feathers that became bent or broken or floated to her feet, and gently curved her wrist to aim the light where I needed it. “Don’t drop it, though. I won’t be able to see without it, and this isn’t the best time to chance breaking my phone.”
Thankfully, she did as she was instructed, even if she did so while clinging to the bars as though the cage dangled over a cliff rather than sitting cockeyed on a shallow landing. However, regardless of how she did it, I was just proud of her for getting off the floor. The lock itself wasn’t difficult to release, but the process proved to be a little challenging due to the way it was positioned on the platform.
I quickly—yet carefully—swung the door open, halfway expecting her to run out. Except, that’s not what she did. Instead, she struggled to pull herself around the few feet to the opening while holding my phone, unable to utilize the beam of light to see where she was going while using both hands to grip the bars at the same time. And as if it wasn’t hard enough to do with two hands what she’d need three to accomplish, she had the added struggle of feathers that, while they didn’t pose a problem as she reached through the gaps between the bars, got caught as she tried to pull her arms back in.
This would be one of those stories I’d tell people for a while, laughing the entire time.
I only hoped this experience would end up being the same for her as well.
However, from the looks of it, I highly doubted it.
The last thing I wanted to do was make the poor girl suffer even more, especially now that she was so close to freedom. So, to help her out, I took my cell from her hand, slipped it into my pocket, and reached in to grab her elbow. And as soon as she stepped out, she threw her arms around my neck and plastered her front to mine. It would’ve been sexy as fuck, except I had a mouthful of feathers thanks to the parts of her costume that, by some small miracle, had made it through the death-defying escape.
“Right, chick…” I held her by the waist, desperately trying to ignore how perfect my hands molded to her body, and pulled her away just enough to create space between us but without letting her go. I needed to see her before I could confidently call my job here done. “You all right? Were you just scared, or did you get hurt?”
“I’m fine. Thank you for getting me out of there.” Her palms slid down my shoulders and rested cautiously against my chest. “What’s your name?”
“Beckett,” I said, too enthralled with the soft grit in her words and the effect it had on me.
The emergency exit signs cast a dull, red shadow over her face, making it impossible to see anything other than her careful nod. “I can’t thank you enough, Beckett. But I think I should get to the back and find out what’s going on.”
All I’d wanted to do was make sure she was okay and then find an empty table or booth to sit at while waiting for the guy near the front of the room to give us more information. Yet somehow, after a really kind and considerate brush-off, walking away—or letting her walk away from me—was the last thing I was about to let happen.
Unfortunately, staying on the stage in nearly total darkness with a stranger seemed like the last thing she’d let happen.
Only one of us would get our way.
And considering I was England’s most famous rugby player, I always got my way.
CHAPTER 2
Jen
Aside for the faint glow of the sporadically placed lights in the ceiling, the room was pitch-black. And somehow, I feel like I couldn’t hide. At least, not from Beckett.
I had no idea where he had come from, or how he even knew I was there. And while I appreciated his effort to get me out of the cage, I was too embarrassed to be around him longer than necessary. Hiding in the back while tending to the humiliation that coursed through me seemed like a much better idea. However, based on the easy yet confident grip he continued to use to keep me in place, I doubted he’d let me go far.
Then again, with an accent like that, I could understand how he’d be used to getting his way. I detected maybe a hint of Irish, slight undertones of what I imagined to be Australian, and overall, a beautiful blend of pure British. Truth be told, my brain had gone into survival mode, and standing before him now, my need to run away consumed me, so there was a very real possibility that I’d made it all up and he was actually an American who’d had one too many tequilas while sitting at the bar.
“Not so fast.” His smile was veiled by the dark room, but it was very clear in his words and tone. “Now that you know my name, are you going to tell me yours?”
As much as I wanted to get away, I figured it was only fair to answer since I’d asked for his. “Jen.”
His head dipped the slightest bit, and a humor-filled exhale escaped what I assumed were smiling lips. At least, that’s what I imagined when the small rush of air hit my face. But then the corners of my own mouth lifted when he said, “Well, Jen…it’s not every day I get to save a beautiful woman. I guess that makes you a free bird, huh?”
I felt bad for him. I honestly did. He didn’t need to speak much for his demeanor to be understood, and there I was, a statue made of stone, hidden behind a brick wall, surrounded by a shark-infested moat without a drawbridge, and concealed by the darkness of an endless night. And for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how to escape it and allow him to see me the way I could him.
In a vain attempt to give him something, I licked my lips—not wanting my words to get stuck in my dry mouth—and said, “I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean.”
“Oh, yeah. My bad. I forget there’s a bit of a language barrier. We say bird the same way you say chick. Like, in reference to a girl. A female.”
“Ah, okay.” Understanding that part helped somewhat, though I still wasn’t sure about the rest. “Is there some special meaning to the phrase free bird?”
“Nah. That was just my cheeky way of saying you’re out of the cage.”
Thank the heavens the lights hadn’t come back on; otherwise, he would’ve seen my face go from the color of pink lemonade to a shade very similar to sunburn. “God, I swear, had I thought about it, I could’ve figured that out on my own. I think I’m still a little frazzled by…whatever’s going on.”
“I don’t think anyone really
knows what’s going on.”
Once the cage fell, all I could think of was getting out, not at all assessing the state of the club. Sure, I noticed the power was out, but beyond that, I hadn’t given it much thought. Between the crippling fear of being trapped in the dark and then being rescued by a man with the sexiest accent I’d ever heard, my lack of awareness wasn’t that unreasonable.
At least, that’s what I told myself.
Realizing the entirety of the situation, I craned my neck side to side and took in the room as best as I could. The majority of the commotion seemed to be at the front near the exit. It made me question if we should be standing here or finding a way out. The one thing that kept me from expressing that concern was Beckett’s calm voice in my ear.
“Unless something else has been announced since getting you out of the cage, the word is we’re locked in here until they have more information about the power outage. From what the guy said, no one knows why it went out, but they’re looking into it.”
“I wonder if anyone in the back knows something. Surely someone from the production team has figured it out by now. Maybe I should head that way and see what I can find out. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.” I patted his bicep and suppressed the groan that rumbled deep within my chest at the impressive firmness beneath the material of his shirt.
Before I could do or say anything else to make me look like a twenty-something-year-old virgin who’d never been touched by another human being before, I turned to move away. But before I could take two steps, I tripped over something on the stage and fell forward, landing on my hands and knees.
Out of nowhere, an arm looped through mine, and I was on my feet in seconds, a blinding beam of light in my eyes. In a desperate attempt to retain my rather decent eyesight, I shielded my face with both hands and turned my head to the side. Only, it didn’t last long. I dropped my arms and returned my attention to Beckett when I heard him mutter, “My God, you are so fucking fit.”
Blackout: A Romance Anthology Page 112
