Savage Vandal (82 Street Vandals Book 1)

by Heather Long

  I knew where everything was. The fastest routes between two spots. The place was a virtual warren of secret passageways, hallways, stairs, and ladders. All so that the performers and the servers could move out of sight of the patrons.

  Definitely my kind of place.

  My heart stopped when she appeared, suspended by just some silk, pale under the blue lights and absolutely still like a corpse. It began to pound again with her first stretch, but it beat against my ribs like a sledgehammer. If she was graceful on the stage, she was like a damn goddess in the air.

  Her body weaved sensuously in the silks at one point, they shrouded her whole form and then she twisted and weaved. There was nothing between her and the hard stage except some twenty feet of air.

  The rest of the room faded away as she moved. This… I’d seen it in videos online, but they were nothing like seeing it in person. Based on the hushed theatre around me, I wasn’t the only one utterly trapped as she cast a bewitching spell. I didn’t know shit about art or dance. I didn’t care much about them either.

  But this?

  What she was doing up there?

  Fuck, I was harder than I’d ever been if it were a titty dancer grinding on my lap. They had nothing on this utterly graceful creature. For one moment, she dropped, dangling like she was falling but not, and her eyes opened. Even at this distance, I could see her staring down at the asshole who was supposed to drive her.

  Rage spilled into my veins.

  She didn’t need to look at him that way.

  The moment seemed to last too damn long. Even after it ended, I wanted to push forward and be closer to the front, where she would see me the next time she opened her eyes.

  How fucking stupid was that?

  When the lights changed and the music shifted, I sucked in a ragged breath. This had been an epically bad idea. The last fucking place I should be was here. I dragged my gaze away from her by sheer force of effort. Where the fuck was Robert?

  I found him, leaning back, his attention wholly focused on the stage, and with brighter lights, it wasn’t hard to read the raw lust on his face.

  Yeah, fuck that.

  The street rat stood like a silent shadow at the wall not far from him. His gaze was on the French fucker, not the woman on the stage. The pound in the music dragged me back in and the oxygen drained out of the room as she moved like she could actually walk on the air. The tension in every muscle was visible, but the cast of the lights hid the bruises marring her flesh.

  Bruises that covered way too much of her and drained the lust out of me as I narrowed my focus on her ankle. She’d been limping on her way in earlier. There’d been a fresh bruise on her arm too. The reminder just incensed me all over again as she seemed to be shadow boxing in the air, fighting against the silks keeping her in the air, like they were keeping her trapped, not gravity.

  The snap of her motion thrummed in perfect time to the beat, and then she pivoted and spun like she was going to climb again, but instead, she tumbled. A gasp ripped through the audience, and it took a solid three seconds for my brain to process what I was seeing, even as I pushed off the wall.

  One of the silks floated down like a severed wing, and fuck me… The dark angel dangled by one leg, and that silk was sliding. It wasn’t hooked around her like the others had been. More people leapt to their feet, and with my heart in my throat, I shoved past two guys on my way to the side door that would get me up there the fastest. I needed to be in place to pull her up.

  I’d barely touched the door when the audience’s gasps changed, and I whirled. She had hold of the silk with one hand, and then with deliberate precision like she’d practiced this for days—and who the fuck knew, maybe she had—she pulled herself up and climbed the silk like she was fucking Spider-Woman. She wrapped it around herself as she pivoted and rolled. Pure strength carried her upward. Her strength. Her control.

  It was a thing of absolute wonder.

  I’d never seen a thing like it.

  Ever.

  The entire audience was on their feet, and then she stood, one foot in the strap she’d made out of the silk, her bad ankle out as her leg pointed like she posed, then she had one hand on her hip, the other gripping the silk above her.

  The audience lost their mind, but I focused on her eyes.

  Her lips were smiling, but her eyes were darker, especially with the way the light reflected off the glitter on her face. More…there was fear there.

  That hadn’t been part of the planned routine.

  I found the dance partner fucker standing in the wings of the stage, glaring up at her.

  Without looking at my phone, I pressed a single button and put it to my ear. I tracked Emersyn until she vanished above the stage as the lights went out.

  “Don’t let him out of your sight,” I barked into the phone as I pushed into the hallway.

  The show wasn’t the only thing that was done.

  I made it to the dressing room hall in record time. There were dancers everywhere, and while I usually didn’t mind so much skin on display, I had one goal. Her dressing room door was locked. I knocked once. Then pulled out the key and opened it when nothing moved behind it.

  Not one single person questioned me. The black overalls relegated us all as stagehands and techs. The performers didn’t notice us. Suited me fine. The interior of her dressing room was dark. There was a bloodied cloth sitting on her dressing table and a melted ice pack sloshing on the floor.

  The duffle bag she normally carried in and out was still there. As were the street clothes she’d been wearing when she arrived earlier. There was blood on the pant leg. I hadn’t noticed her bleeding, but she had been limping.

  Someone was going to answer my damn questions.

  My phone buzzed, and I answered it without looking at the screen. “What?”

  “She’s outside with the asshole. Side alley.”

  Fuck.

  “Willingly?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Don’t let him take her anywhere.”

  “Not planning on it.”

  I did a quick scan around the dressing room and grabbed the hotel room key, wallet, and make-up bag off the dressing table and dropped them all in her duffle along with the street clothes, and then I was out and on my way up the hall. The dour bitch who lorded it over the dancers and constantly seemed to be giving Emersyn hell glared at me as I strode past her.

  “You’re not supposed to be back here.”

  I ignored her.

  “Where is Sharpe?” she demanded of another dancer, who skittered to the side to let me pass.

  “I don’t know,” she answered. “Probably went off to fuck Eric somewhere. Not like she spends any time with us. Stuck up bitch.”

  I didn’t have time to put the little cunt in her place, but my teeth ground as I ducked into another hall and then continued across the back passageway toward the north side of the theatre. There were two alleys framing the building—the loading dock side on the west, and the alcove street alley where the trash went on the north.

  It was also popular with the performers and the techs for stepping out to smoke or just escaping without having to wade through the richly dressed up front.

  Not slowing, I raced up three stairs and then down another four before cutting a corner and sliding down the rails. I hit the door with a slam and pushed out into the alley. The darkness broken only by the milky light from the single unbroken overhead lamp created a dozen scattered shadows as dead fucker walking jerked around from where he had Emersyn crowded against a wall. The only thing keeping him off her was the fact Vaughn was right in his face.

  While he might be shorter than I was or even the asshole ballerina who got off on hurting his partner, Vaughn was a brawler, old-school style, and built rock solid and thick.

  “Fuck off,” he ordered me like I gave a rat’s ass about his opinion or his permission. Emersyn sent me a wild look. For the most part, Vaughn looked bored and cocked an eyebrow
toward me like, can you believe this asshole?

  Yeah.

  I could believe him.

  The overbearing prick walked around like he owned the world. “Get him away from her,” was all I said.

  Emersyn sagged as Vaughn smirked, and he shoved the asshole back. A flash of lights at the end of the alley warned of the car’s arrival. The engine cut off as I caught Emersyn’s arm. “Let’s go,” I told her. She shrank back at my touch, and I opened my fingers immediately.

  Ignoring the sounds of the struggle behind me, all I said was, “Don’t kill him.”

  “Fuck, really?” Vaughn swore.

  Steps closed in on us, but I swept a look over her. She was still dressed in that black bodysuit and nothing else. Her feet were fucking bare. Red decorated her toes.

  “Emersyn,” Kellan said. “Let me get you out of here.”

  Relief creased her face as she glanced past me, genuine relief, and even if she hadn’t been looking at me with fear, she hadn’t exactly been inspired. There was a new set of bruises on her arm and what looked like a burn.

  The tearing silk came to mind and how she’d had to pull herself up and how she’d caught herself.

  “You know,” Vaughn grunted out as flesh impacted flesh, “a little help would be great.”

  I glanced over my shoulder as Kellan snorted, but Emersyn took that moment to dart past me. It was like everything slowed down, the world moved in stop motion.

  The fucker wrestling with Vaughn slammed him with an uppercut, then plowed through. Kellan was moving to block him and so was I, but neither of us were fast enough. Emersyn hit the stone wall of the building with a soft grunt, and her head struck with a lot more force. I let go of her bag and slammed one fist then the other into the fucker’s kidneys, even as Kellan caught him in the throat. Vaughn came at him, and there was a flash of the knife.

  “No,” I snarled before I slammed my elbow into the dick’s skull. The pain shot through my arm, but the asshole went down. “He doesn’t die quick.”

  Vaughn stared at me, then past me to where Emersyn lay. Kellan had already gathered her up carefully, his palm coming away with blood on it, and he glared at me. “Keeping him alive got her hurt.”

  “Keeping him alive is because he deserves a slow, fucking painful death. Look at her.”

  “I am looking at her.” Kellan’s expression was stone.

  “Secure him,” I ordered Vaughn. “Put him in the trunk.”

  “Jesus, Hawk,” Kellan swore at me. “This isn’t the plan.”

  “Yeah well,” I told him, snagging her bag and looking at her, “I’m changing the plan. Someone tried to kill her tonight, and this bastard has tried every single day they’ve been here.”

  The fear on her face didn’t come from one incident, but from a lifetime of them. That much had been clear to me the day I changed her lock. I should have just called it then, but they were right.

  That hadn’t been the plan.

  “Fuck,” Kellan swore, but he carried her toward the car as Vaughn dragged the bastard up and over his shoulder.

  “Not going to help?”

  I glared at him, then glanced around the alley. One camera, but it was pointed away.

  Kellan already had the trunk open, and I helped them stash the asshole before I slid into the backseat with her. Vaughn dropped into the passenger seat, and Kellan glared at me in the rearview mirror.

  “We should just take her to a hospital…”

  “No, get us back to the club.”

  “This is a bad idea,” Kellan said.

  “You out then?” I dared him. We didn’t walk away. None of us. We hadn’t even when we’d had the chance. This wasn’t even in the top ten of shitty things we’d ever had to do.

  If anything, we were the white fucking knights in this situation.

  “Fuck you, Hawk,” he snapped, and I grinned before putting a gentle hand on her hair. I’d shifted her so she lay in my lap, and I took the towel Vaughn handed me to press to the back of her head. “I’m calling Doc.”

  I nodded. She needed to see him.

  And I needed a detailed list of her injuries.

  Chapter 4

  Kellan

  The drive across town took way fucking longer than I wanted. Still, I didn’t dare speed. No drawing attention to the car. We had maybe an hour—if we were lucky, and so far, our luck had been absolute shit on this run—before someone noticed Emersyn was missing. I doubted anyone would miss the abusive jackass in the trunk.

  Except, maybe the pair of tits he’d been fucking all week. Better that little slut than Emersyn. Not that he hadn’t tried. I’d caught him more than once trying to get in the car with her and made sure he didn’t. She didn’t want him there, then he wasn’t getting in. The bruises on her grew steadily worse all week. I wasn’t blind.

  Hawk ordered me to leave the fucker alone. A broken hand, a broken leg, a broken neck—they were all doable. But no, leave him the fuck alone. Fine. I just made sure he couldn’t hitch a ride with her, and I kept it quiet about where she was staying.

  That took me next to nothing to discern. She didn’t tell anyone from the show the hotel of her choice, and no one from the show was at her hotel. I’d done some recon on their location, miles away. She’d also booked her room under a different name entirely.

  The tags were spray painted everywhere. Only a moron couldn’t read the warning in them, so why the fuck had Jasper let him get away with that shit? Course, he’d just answered that question tonight.

  It was their last show, the final performance. They had one down day, and then they’d be moving on to the next stop on their tour. Our time with her would have been brief, but we would have protected her here.

  Because whether Hawk okayed it or not, that abusive fuck in the trunk was not going to be continuing with the tour.

  Accidents happened.

  I’d make goddamn sure it happened.

  The doc in the box had no lights on in the front. They closed at nine straight up. The neighborhood emergencies headed over to the Memorial if they made it that far. Pulling around back, I already had my phone to my ear before Vaughn slid out of the passenger seat.

  Doc answered on the first ring. “We’re here,” I told him and then hung up. Out of the car, I tracked Vaughn as he eased Emersyn out of Jasper’s arms. She was too fucking pale. Bruises seemed to underscore her eyes in the muddy light. How much of that was exhaustion? And how much real hits?

  “Did he actually hit her before I got there?” I demanded, but Vaughn shot me a sharp look.

  “Do you actually think I’d let him hit her?”

  The door opening to reveal Mickey J or “Doc” as he went by now. In his late twenties, maybe early thirties, he had a grizzled look to him and a hard expression. He swept his gaze over us and then narrowed his focus on Emersyn.

  “Get her in here.”

  Jasper cut ahead of them all and was inside. Fine, he could sweep the place.

  I caught Doc before he could follow Vaughn and Emersyn.

  “What?” the older man growled at me.

  “I need a sedative. Something strong enough to keep a grown man down for eight to ten hours.”

  Doc nodded. Then gave a jerk of his head. “C’mon.” He didn’t ask me why or for who, just pulled up a syringe. “Intramuscular. You got that?”

  “Yep.”

  “Thigh is best. Ass works too.”

  “Where does it hurt more?”

  The slash of his mouth twisted into a cruel smile, and he tapped the side of his neck. “Don’t hit the jugular. Leaves you with a bitch of a headache when you wake up, and the muscle spasms are vicious.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Who’s the girl?”

  “No one you need to know, Doc.”

  “Right,” Doc said. “Hear nothing. See nothing. Say nothing.”

  I shot him a look. “Good plan.”

  With a snort, Doc strode away, and I headed out the backdoor. With the key f
ob, I opened the trunk. Our asshole passenger was still out, and I jabbed the needle in right where Doc said to put it and pushed the plunger down. I suppose I could have cleaned the spot up, but did I really give a fuck if he got an infection?

  No. No I didn’t.

  Done, I closed the trunk and then moved to do a sweep of the area while I loosened my tie. I needed to ditch the suit here soon too. There was a little blood on my cuffs, so I left the jacket on. The mist of rain had begun to fall again, and there was a bitter chill in the air. Phone in hand, I hit Rome’s number, but it went straight to voicemail.

  He’d been doing that a lot lately.

  “Hey, prima donna,” I said by way of greeting when the beep sounded. “Get back to the club and clean out that room between ours. I have a feeling we’re going to have company.” Message left, I finished the circuit and headed back inside.

  Vaughn and Jasper were toe to toe in the hallway, glaring at each other.

  “This looks productive,” I said as I bypassed them and headed toward the treatment rooms.

  “He’s doing X-rays,” Vaughn said. “Stay out here.”

  “She awake yet?” Because if she wasn’t…

  “No,” Jasper ground out between his teeth. “Another reason he’s doing X-rays. He wants to make sure she hasn’t done something significant to her skull.”

  I got kicked by a mule once at one of those stupid petting zoo things they bussed inner city kids to in order to experience nature. Cracked two of my ribs and left a bruise on me for weeks.

  The idea she’d cracked her skull hit just as hard.

  Swinging around, I glared at Jasper. “We should take her to a fucking hospital.”