Countdown: Ethan

by Boniface, Allie

  “It’s okay.”

  “He didn’t—did he hurt you?”

  “He didn’t even get close to hurting me.”

  She smiled. She felt as though she should explain something to Ethan, some part of the story that had him running into Sean past midnight in Memphis, but she had no idea where to begin.

  He fanned both hands out across the table. “Listen, just so you know, I’m really not in the habit of getting into other people’s business. Jumping in between people who are—ah—”

  “It’s okay.” Part of her understood why Ethan had left her to stand up to Sean on her own. A small part of her even appreciated the gesture. But let’s be honest, she told herself. He also hadn’t raised a hand to defend her. He’d barely voiced a concern from ten feet away. And although she’d stood in the moonlight just an hour earlier and held his hand while he choked out memories of his dead wife, how much did she really know about him? Could you tell a man by the wars he chose not to fight?

  “Sure you’re okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Should we call the police or something?”

  “Probably.” Except Sean is the police. And all she really wanted to do now was leave. “It’s late. I should probably find Sarah and Gunnar.” She finished her water and stood.

  Back inside the club, the posts around the room held up people in various states of inebriation. Empty glasses and crumpled napkins covered most of the tables. Here and there, cocktail waitresses and bartenders piled glassware into tubs and wiped down tables. The bouncer slumped on his stool, arms crossed, head bobbing in the direction of his massive chest. A languid air filled the bar, and the stale smell of cigarettes and booze inside contrasted with the starry sky that hung outside over Beale Street. A group of young women shuffled by, mascara dusting their cheeks and lipstick long worn off. A couple of them yawned, glassy-eyed.

  Dakota surveyed the crowd. She didn’t see Sarah or Gunnar anywhere. Something felt off. She checked her phone. No texts or calls. Then footsteps pounded down the sidewalk. In the next instant, the club lights flashed on, and a young guy appeared in the doorway, eyes wide. “Fight! Up the street!”

  Dakota’s heart stopped. “Where are my friends?”

  “I’m not sure,” Ethan said. “I don’t see them.”

  “It’s those guys who were in here earlier,” she overheard another man say. “Those idiots who got thrown out.”

  Oh, no. Dakota headed for the door.

  “Did someone call the cops?” Ethan asked.

  The bartender shrugged. “We get fights ‘round here every other night. If I called the cops every time some drunks decided to bust it up outside, my boss would kill me.”

  “I’m going outside.” She was already halfway there.

  “Wait.”

  But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Something in her gut told her that Gunnar was involved in the mess outside. Dakota rushed for the door, with Ethan close behind. A couple of the surrounding clubs had emptied too, and a growing throng pressed against her. She heard cheers and howls. Drunken spectators pumped their fists in the air. Whatever the altercation, it hadn’t stopped yet. Someone ran into Dakota and she lost her footing and stumbled against the brick wall. Two policemen on bicycles came wheeling down the street. Someone had called the authorities after all, but she wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or worse.

  “I’m going to get a closer look,” Ethan said.

  “Don’t leave me here.”

  “Just a minute. I want to make sure it’s not your friends. I’ll be right back.” Ethan shoved his way through the crowd and disappeared.

  Grinding her teeth together, Dakota watched him go. She looked around for Sarah’s blonde curls. Checked her cell phone again. Nothing. Hey where r u guys? she texted Sarah. No response.

  A police car pulled up, and the crowd pushed back from the sidewalk. Dakota couldn’t stand it. She squeezed through the crowd until she reached the next alleyway.

  Above her, streetlights blazed, and she could hear a rough male voice. “Get back! Right now! It’s over—move away!”

  She took a deep breath and crossed the alley. No one noticed her. Please don’t let anyone have a gun. She hadn’t heard shots, but that didn’t mean much these days. The last thing she wanted was for any of them to be tomorrow’s front page statistics.

  “...see the big guy? I thought he was going to take them both down...”

  “...red-haired guy got him from behind...”

  “...cops oughta be here on a regular basis...”

  She elbowed her way through the crowd. Two tall cops waved nightsticks in the air. Then a burly man stepped to the side and the scene opened up before her. One of the cops was talking to Ethan’s friends from the bar. The other cop was pulling out his handcuffs. Gunnar sat on the sidewalk, one hand pressed against his back. He’d been beaten up, badly. His shirt was torn. Both knees were dirty, as though he’d fallen hard. A gash along the side of his face dripped blood. The entire left side of his face had swelled up and his left eye was beginning to puff closed. Sarah knelt beside him.

  Oh my God. She rushed over.

  A cop holding a notepad walked over. “We’re going to need a statement from you. I’m assuming you’ll want to press assault charges?”

  “Damn straight he does,” Sarah answered for him.

  “Might want to get that face stitched up first. Then come on to the station and file a full report.” The cop wrote something on his notepad and then looked closer. “You want me to call an ambulance? I can get a paramedic here.”

  Gunnar shook his head and stood with effort. His gaze flicked toward Dakota, but she saw only a hint of pain before cool control banished it. He rose to his full height, looking like a Greek god standing under the lights. “I’ll file the report first.” His voice was guttural, and he leaned over and spit out a mouthful of blood.

  “Are you sure?” Sarah steadied him. “I think we should go straight to the ER. Or let them call an ambulance.”

  “No. Not necessary. I’ll be fine.” He took the rag the police handed him and pressed it to his cheek.

  Dakota wrapped one arm around Sarah’s waist. “I’ll drive you to the hospital. Give me your keys.”

  “Where’s the guy you were talking to?”

  She’d completely forgotten about Ethan. Dakota glanced around. Where did he go? Over her shoulder, she heard bits of Gunnar’s conversation with the cop.

  “...minding my own business...at the bar before...got a bottle and split it over my head...”

  Where was Ethan? She looked up and down the block. She hadn’t even gotten his number. Or his last name. Are you kidding me? “Ethan?” she called out, but no one turned around. She looked back at Gunnar and Sarah. She couldn’t very well leave her friends to go to the hospital without her. But how could she leave without finding Ethan? If she drove away from Beale Street, there was little chance she’d find him again.

  He works for a newspaper here.

  Yeah, but which one? There were probably three, four, five or more in a city this big. And she was leaving the day after tomorrow.

  Sarah materialized beside her. “Dakota?”

  “I don’t know where Ethan is.” How had he disappeared so quickly? Then another thought occurred to her. Maybe he’d wanted to. Maybe he’d used the crowd and the fight to make a quiet getaway. And maybe she couldn’t blame him. She’d seen the pain in his eyes when he talked about his wife.

  “You get his number? Can you text him?”

  She shook her head.

  “So go look for him.”

  Maybe he doesn’t want to be found. She shook her head. “I’ll go with you guys to the hospital.”

  “Gunnar’s still talking to the cops. We’ll meet you at the car in five minutes. Okay? You remember where we parked?”

  “Yes. Okay.” Dakota backed away. Five minutes, she thought. Just five minutes to find Ethan and tell him...what? She didn’t know. She didn’t know if she’d
even find him. Damn it. She hurried back toward Piano Alley. Maybe there was something between them and maybe not, but hell if she was going to run away from the best thing she’d found in a really long time. She had to try and find him. As she jogged toward the bar, lost in thought, Dakota didn’t hear the footsteps behind her. She didn’t catch the glint of a revolver barrel, and she didn’t see a wild-eyed Sean emerge from the alley beside her until it was too late.

  3:00 a.m.

  Sean clapped one hand over Dakota’s mouth. He would the other arm around her waist, snakelike. “We weren’t finished talking,” he rasped into her ear. He dragged all five feet of her into the shadows of the alley.

  Oh my God, he’s going to kill me. Just like Tommy. She reached out for something to grab, something to slow her, but found nothing. Panic drummed beneath her breastbone, an animal trapped in her throat. “Sean—”

  “Shut up.” He tightened his arm and pressed his fingers into her chin and mouth. She tasted blood as her bottom lip cut on her teeth. “It could have been easy,” he said. “All you had to do was give it to me.”

  She went limp. He really was crazy. Dangerous. Capable of inflicting serious physical harm. Her panic grew. She opened her mouth against his hand and tried to scream.

  “Shut up! Fuckin’ bitch.” Sean pushed Dakota into the side of one of the buildings and she felt the skin on her shoulder open. “Do that again and I’ll kill you. I mean it.”

  She shut up.

  He dragged her a few more feet, until they reached the back of the alley, a narrow dead-end with a collection of rank-smelling garbage, old beer bottles and forgotten wooden crates. Only then did he release his grip on her neck, though his other arm stayed around her waist. Her ribs ached from where he dug his fingers into her skin.

  His lips moved to her earlobe. “Why did you have to make this so hard?”

  Dakota closed her eyes and tried to summon up the bravado she’d felt back in the club and out on the sidewalk. Nothing. Her heart sped up and her legs began to shake. All the rage, the sadness, the pain of the last twelve hours rushed in and she began to cry.

  Dammit. Don’t give in. Don’t be weak. Don’t—

  “Shh.” Sean wiped at her tears. “Don’t do that. Don’t cry.” He paused. “It didn’t have to be like this.” He released her but forced her farther back, blocking her view of the street.

  Dakota stumbled and lost her balance. She collapsed on the ground. Where was everyone? Not a single person walked by on the sidewalk, fifty feet away. Cars sped down the street without slowing. She inhaled something that smelled like a combination of urine and stale beer and the earthy scent of pavement after a rainstorm. Underneath it all, she smelled her own fear.

  “Here’s what’s gonna happen.” Sean crouched down beside her. “You’re gonna call the police and tell them you made a mistake.”

  “They won’t believe me.” Dakota leaned her head against the building. Eight feet, maybe ten, separated it from the one on the other side. Rough edges of brick dug into the back of her skull.

  “Yes, they will. I’m gonna tell you exactly what to say.” He fished out his cell phone.

  “I won’t do it.”

  Sean grabbed Dakota and dragged her to her feet. “You don’t have a choice. You do it or I make sure you end up in the hospital with a head injury so serious you’ll be lucky if you remember your name.”

  Is that what you meant to do with Tommy? she wanted to ask. Just a little head injury? But she couldn’t get the words out.

  Abruptly, his voice changed. He reached out and ran one finger along her bottom lip, the way he had so many nights in bed. “Sweetheart, I’m not asking for anything big here. Just one little phone call. One little favor. How hard is that?”

  She tried not to flinch under his touch, tried not to remember the thousand times he’d set her flesh on fire with those same fingers.

  “I thought you loved me.”

  She wanted to puke. She wanted to pull her nails down both sides of his face and open his flesh. She wanted to wake up beside him and realize it had all been one long dream. “I never loved you.”

  He reached out and cuffed her across the face before she realized he’d moved at all. “Bitch.”

  Dakota winced and raised a hand to her jaw, which felt as though it had moved six inches to the back of her skull. Dots spun before her eyes and she had to fight to keep her bearings. “It’s true.” She pushed him away. “You were nothing to me, Sean. Ever. A good lay and that’s about it.” Even behind the pain, she felt a semblance of strength return. There you are. If she reached out in her mind, she could pull in the courage and let it hold her up. She could get out of this mess by herself. She’d have to, because apparently no one was coming to help her.

  He pulled at her halter-top so hard it ripped near the shoulder. “What did you say?”

  Find that strength. Hold onto it. “You heard me. And you weren’t even that good, if you want the truth. No wonder Mollie’s been screwing half the guys in town.”

  At that, the light in his eyes changed. The shot had hit his ego. His pupils dilated until nothing but darkness stared back at her. And she wondered if she’d gone too far. Maybe she was signing her death warrant instead of just standing up to him. He was crazy. It wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge.

  “I wasn’t that good?” His voice softened to a whisper. “Really?” He ran one hand down her breast, thumbing her nipple before continuing to her waist. “That’s not what I remember you saying the first night I fucked you.”

  Don’t let him scare you. Don’t let him get to you. They’re words, that’s all. He’s drunk. Someone will come by soon. Someone will find you. But the voice seemed far away inside her head. Dakota wondered what had happened to Ethan. Had he given up on her? Walked back to the club? Driven home after a half-hearted attempt to find her?

  Now Sean’s hand was pawing at her mini skirt. One palm cupped her hipbone. “As I recall, you like it rough.” His tongue darted out and licked the hollow of her throat.

  Oh, God.

  “And doing it in public was a turn-on for you too, remember?”

  He’s going to rape me. The realization struck her a half-second too late. Dakota struggled and tried to aim one knee in the direction of Sean’s groin. She got nowhere. Both arms ached. Her jaw still stung. Her hair fell into her eyes, and for a terrifying moment, she couldn’t see anything at all.

  Sean laughed. “Sweetheart, I’m way too strong for you.” He pressed his mouth to her bare collarbone in an obscene kiss. One hand grabbed at her panties.

  Dakota screamed then. She threw back her head and let the air fuel her vocal cords. “Help me! Please!”

  The entrance where the alley opened onto the street lay only yards away. Fifteen, maybe twenty. But why hadn’t she heard a single pair of footsteps walk by in the last few minutes? Had everyone really gone home? She waited as her cry echoed against the walls of the buildings around them. Nothing. No sirens or voices or faces peering around the corner.

  Sean slammed Dakota back against the building so fast her teeth snapped together. The hand at her crotch reached up and covered her mouth again. “You’re gonna be sorry for that.” He dragged her back a few more feet, into the bowels of the alley, and shoved her behind him. Dakota’s gaze slid to the sidewalk, now only a smudge of light in the distance. Another scream faded in her throat.

  Sean turned around and studied her, his fingers still pressed against her mouth. The hand around her wrist loosened a little. “You want to ruin me.” It was an observation. An accusation.

  She shook her head.

  “Yes, you do. You want everyone in that piss-ant town of yours to find out what I did and run me out on a rail.” He wiped spittle from his chin. “Like half the people there aren’t tappin’ into Tommy’s secret stash same as me.”

  But you‘re the police chief. She choked back the obvious.

  “Well, it’s not gonna happen.” Sean‘s lips peeled back
in a grin. “I like that town. A lot. It’s been good to me.” His fingers moved against her waist and fumbled with her skirt, still hanging open at the zipper. “And speaking of good things...”

  He moved close and kissed her. His tongue darted between her lips and his breath reeked of beer and cigarettes and something else Dakota couldn’t place. She tried not to gag. If he’s going to do this, then let him. You can’t fight against someone twice your weight. Not to mention someone who’s gone off the deep end entirely.

  She forced her mind to take a vacation. She let Sean pull her top away from her neck and let him move his hands between her thighs. She didn’t move, didn’t speak as his mouth moved from her neck to her breast. She tried to think of sunsets on Lake Winnipesaukee, the smell of the Little Lakeside Pizzeria at noon, the way Sarah’s laugh traveled up the octave when they watched movies together.

  “Dakota?”

  She opened her eyes. Sean’s fumbling stopped.

  “Is that—what the hell?” Footsteps hurried down the alley. One hand reached out and shoved Sean away from her. “You son of a bitch. Get off her!”

  Ethan?

  Dakota fell backwards and landed on her elbows. Fresh pain shot through her wrists and up her forearms. She barely felt it. The two men grappled in the shadows of the alley and she lay there, unable to pull herself to her feet. Without warning, her mind flashed back to her flight to Memphis with her seatmate’s words ringing inside her head.

  He’ll be the one who steps in front of a train for you. The one who climbs buildings to move them out of your way. The one who faces down dragons and brings you breakfast in bed the morning after.

  Ethan took Sean by one arm and shoved him up against a wall. Sean grunted. Ethan swore. Elbows flailed, and someone’s foot caught her in the shin as she crouched on the ground and watched. Then Dakota blacked out altogether.

  ETHAN HAD GLANCED AROUND at the knots of people in the street and on the sidewalk. People leered, pointed, whispered. He shook his head, disgusted, as a cop led Howie to a waiting cruiser. He kept his mouth shut and his eyes down. Didn’t need that guy to implicate him in anything. Leave it to him to make a complete fool of himself. Well, Ethan didn’t need to worry about it. He didn’t need to defend Howie’s stupid choices. He’d just add it to the list of things to tell Mike tomorrow. Then he’d turned around to find Dakota.