I left her back by the club. Told her to wait. He quickened his pace. Now he wondered if she’d listened to him. What an ass, to leave her alone. He’d reached the front door of Piano Alley to see only the bouncer and some bald guy muttering into a cell phone. Inside, the bartenders washed glasses. A few people stood near the door, talking. But no Dakota.
“Hey, did you see anyone come back in here? Girl about this tall...” He measured with his hand, up to his shoulder. “Dark curly hair?”
“Nope. No one comes back in,” the bouncer said before he could ask anything else. “We’re closing.”
Shit. “Okay, thanks.” Ethan jogged up the block as the last cop car pulled away. A few onlookers wandered off and he was left staring at an empty sidewalk. He didn’t even see Dakota’s friends now. He turned in a slow circle. Maybe he’d missed her. Maybe she’d been inside the club the whole time, waiting for him. He hadn’t gone inside, just assumed she wasn’t there. He retraced his steps a third time, but back at Piano Alley, the bouncer was ushering the last few stragglers out.
“Listen, I think my friend might be in the bathroom—” Ethan began, but the big man shook his head.
“Nope. Everyone’s out. Already checked.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. Ethan turned away as the doors locked behind him. Frustration tied a knot in his stomach. Dakota was gone, then, truly gone. Whether to the hospital with her friends or the police station or even just home, she’d apparently left while he was checking the other side of the street. His one chance at sanity after a long year in hell and she’d vanished with the stars.
He laced his hands behind his head. For a long moment, Ethan stood on the sidewalk, unsure of what to do. Around him, Beale Street quieted. A few patrons dribbled out from the clubs across the street. He hadn’t gotten her number. He hadn’t even gotten her full name. Mike would have a field day with this one, counting off all the things Ethan had done wrong. He started toward the parking lot and then, abruptly, turned around again. He needed to walk. He needed to think.
I’ve got to find her.
He hurried along, barely looking up. Yet did he really think he could do that, in a city of over a half-million people? He didn’t know Sarah or Gunnar’s last names either. He didn’t know what they did or where they lived. Hell, they could be from any suburb around the city, or a town an hour away. He could only guess where they’d gone after the fight. Gunnar hadn’t looked badly hurt, but he might get himself stitched up. Ethan would try both the police station and the hospital and see what he could find out. A press badge came in handy at times like these. I’ll drive over to the station first. I know a couple of guys who work the night shift.
He glanced up at the next street sign and turned right, heading back toward the lot where he’d parked his car. He fingered his keys in the pocket of his jeans and rehearsed what he’d say if he had the chance to see her again.
I know we live in different places...
This might sound crazy, but...
Then Ethan passed the entrance to an alleyway and heard noises. Grunts. The sound of a metal trash can rolling across the ground. He stopped and peered into darkness. At the very back of the alley, two figures hunched near the ground, one larger than the other. Drunks? Homeless guys fighting over scraps or recyclables? What the hell are they doing? He took one step into the narrow space. Then another. Shadows shifted and the moon moved overhead. Then a thin strip of light pierced the alley, and he saw her face.
For an instant, his feet wouldn’t move. Listen, just so you know, I’m really not in the habit of getting into other people’s business... He covered the hundred feet of alleyway in a matter of seconds.
“Get the hell off her!” Ethan grabbed Sean by the back of his shirt and yanked.
Dakota stumbled away, pulling her clothes back into place, and landed on a crate that splintered into pieces. She turned chalk-white and her eyelids fluttered.
Sean hit the wall, hard. Rage colored his face. “You just signed your death warrant, asshole.”
Ethan stood his ground. With one hand, he reached down and shook Dakota’s shoulder. “Hey. Wake up. You okay?”
She moaned.
“Stay with me. It’s me. It’s Ethan.”
At that, her eyes opened again. A moment later, she was on her feet, wobbly but conscious.
“Go find a cop.” From the corner of his eye, he caught the quick motion of Sean cocking back his fist. “Hurry.”
“I’m not leaving you here.” Her voice sounded faint and far away.
Ethan took Sean’s first blow on the shoulder. He reached for his cell phone, but Sean grabbed his arm and twisted it, hard. Okay, so calling the cops was out, at least for now. “Get out of here,” Ethan said to Dakota. “Go find someone.” Pain ratcheted all the way up to the top of his head. Jesus, this guy was strong.
“Ethan, he’s out of his mind. You don’t know what he’s—” She screamed as Sean grabbed a fistful of Ethan’s hair and jabbed a punch upward, straight to Ethan’s nose.
He saw stars. Okay, this guy was certifiably insane. His whole face felt like it was on fire. But Ethan still aimed a punch and connected, square in Sean’s mouth. Then another. Sean staggered backwards as blood flowed down his chin. Ethan wiped his own face and his hand came away red. No guarantees about what happens next. No guarantees about how this night ends up. The thought flashed in and out of his mind. He might end up in the ER. He might end up worse than that. But if he turned tail and walked away now, he’d never know what he was capable of. And that would be worse than any pain this drunken idiot might inflict.
Dakota was patting at her skirt. “Oh, God, Ethan, I don’t have my phone. It’s back in the club.” She wiped her nose as tears ran down her face. “I don’t have anything at all.”
“Then go,” he said through clenched teeth. “Hurry.”
“I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be right here.” Ethan watched Dakota hurry toward Beale Street and hoped to God he would be.
4:00 a.m.
Dakota hesitated as she reached the sidewalk. I can’t leave Ethan back there. She’d seen that flicker of hatred in Sean’s gaze, that blind intent to hurt no matter what. Sean’s going to kill him. But what could she do to stop him? Ethan was right. She needed to get the cops, or some kind of help, anyone, a big guy with friends or maybe some brass knuckles. She looked around the empty block and saw no one. Most clubs and restaurants had turned off their exterior lights, washing Beale Street in darkness. There wasn’t a single cop walking the beat or driving by. In the distance, a pale curve of moon hung in the sky. The only figures she saw were shadows in the distance, almost three blocks away and walking in the opposite direction.
“Help!” She raced down the sidewalk and waved her arms. “Please!” But they didn’t even turn around. She tripped over a curb and nearly landed on her face. She scraped her knees and her palms; her heart leapt to her throat and bile filled her mouth. Get up. Keep going. “Hello? Anyone?”
But the street, and the night, remained silent. Back on her feet, Dakota hurried toward Piano Alley. Her purse and her phone were still in there, she hoped, wedged behind the table where Gunnar had been sitting. Or maybe turned it in to the bartender by a good Samaritan. There had to be someone still cleaning up in there.
How long had she been trapped in the alley with Sean? Sarah and Gunnar had probably left for the hospital by now. Or maybe they didn’t go. Maybe they’re still waiting for me. Sarah wouldn’t leave her best friend alone in the middle of the night in a strange city. Would she?
Dakota shook her head. Of course. They were probably pacing in the parking lot right now, with Gunnar’s car running. A strap from the halter-top flopped against her shoulder, and she jumped. Every sound seemed to be Sean’s footsteps, coming after her. Every shadow was his monstrous figure reaching out to drag her into darkness again.
But when she got to Piano Alley, the club looked deserted. A single light shone over the bar, b
ut she didn’t see anyone inside. She tried the front door. Locked. She pounded with a fist. Nothing. Not even a lone bartender sweeping up peanut shells or counting tips. No no no. Please. Someone answer. She pounded again. Had everyone really gone home? Dakota pulled at her bottom lip, and her legs trembled with exhaustion as she tried to remember where they’d parked. Two blocks down, one block over. She hoped. When she got there, though, a large chain was looped over the entrance. Dakota’s heart and her last hope sank. They’d left, then, really left. Sarah and Gunnar had gone to the hospital without her.
She leaned against a lamppost and tried to gather her thoughts. All she could see, over and over again, was Sean’s face close to hers. All she could smell was his sour breath as he whispered threats in a voice she’d never heard before. Do that again and I’ll kill you.
Some place had to be open. Someone had to drive by, had to stop, had to help her. Cities this big didn’t fold up into a tiny box when the clock struck twelve. She looked around and tried to shake off the eerie feeling that everyone had left downtown Memphis, that the city had simply rolled up its sidewalks and left her standing in some kind of alternate universe until the sun came up.
I don’t care what Ethan said. I shouldn’t have left him alone. Sean is out of his mind. And he’ll—
A car drove down Beale Street. Finally. She waved and stepped off the curb, almost into its path. It didn’t even slow down.
“He’ll kill Ethan,” she finished aloud. She sank onto a bench and started to cry. She didn’t know what else to do. This was the end, the very end, of the whole sorry night. They’d find her tomorrow curled up in a little ball on this bench while they wheeled Ethan into the morgue and blamed her for his death. And Sean would hop a plane and fly to the Caymans, free and confident as ever.
Dakota lifted her head. She had to go back to that alleyway. She was responsible for what had happened to Ethan, at least in part. If there was anything decent left in Sean, maybe she could find it. Maybe she could talk him out of his madness and convince him to leave both of them alone. At the very least, she could give him back his flash drive. No one’s life was worth a stupid video file.
Footsteps approached. “Hey, you okay?” A skinny guy in his twenties with one arm looped over a woman’s shoulder gave Dakota a long stare.
She jumped. “Oh, God, I-I—” She couldn’t get the words out. “I need to find a cop.”
The woman popped her gum and caught a strand of red hair in her mouth. “Why?”
Dakota wasn’t sure where to begin. She didn’t know where to find her friends, first off. She’d lost her purse, her wallet and her cell phone. Her ex-boyfriend had turned into a lunatic and followed her halfway across the country. And just a few blocks away, a guy named Ethan—a really, really nice guy she desperately wanted to see again—was fighting said lunatic.
“There’s a fight. My—” She started to say boyfriend, started to change it to ex- boyfriend, and then stopped altogether. “Two guys I know are beating each other up pretty bad.”
The woman sighed and tugged at the man’s arm. “You stay out this late, you’re pretty much guaranteed that. Cops won’t do anything.”
“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Dakota said. “It’s not a bar fight.” It’s a man who’s certifiably crazy, who killed someone last week and now wants to kill someone else if he doesn’t get his way.
The skinny guy looked from Dakota to his date and back again.
See, I met someone tonight, she would explain if she had the time. This great guy who was out for the first time since his wife died. And we were doing normal things. Talking. Dancing. Laughing. Getting to know each other. Then my crazy ex-boyfriend— who I didn’t even know was crazy—showed up. And I dragged Ethan into my screwed-up life without even asking him if he wanted to get involved.
And now he was standing up to Sean. For her.
Dakota bit her bottom lip in agony. “Can I at least use your phone?”
The man shrugged and slipped it out of his pocket. The woman leaned her head on his shoulder with a bored expression. Dakota’s fingers slipped, and she dialed 9-1-2. “Damn.” She tried again. This time the numbers connected.
“911, what is your emergency?”
Dakota relayed the details as best she could. “...he attacked me in an alleyway. And now he’s fighting there with someone else.” She paused. “It’s bad. He’s really dangerous. Someone needs to come. Please.”
The woman standing on the sidewalk opened her eyes and looked interested for the first time in five minutes.
“We’ll send the officer on duty to your location, ma’am.”
“Thank you.” Dakota pressed her lips together to keep from asking how long? She hung up and returned the phone.
“You gonna be okay?” the man asked. “You want us to—uh, wait with you or something?”
“No, thanks.”
The couple crossed the street without another word.
Dakota hurried up the block, and within a minute, a police car turned the corner, lights on but siren silent. Oh, God, thank you. Sometimes rescue came in time, after all. She stepped into the street and waved, trying to remember which slant of darkness opened into the alley where she’d left Sean and Ethan. How much time had passed? Five minutes? Longer?
A heavy-set woman in a royal blue uniform emerged from the driver’s side of the cruiser. “Call 911, ma’am?”
Dakota nodded.
“Like to tell me what happened?”
“My ex-boyfriend tried to rape me.” The words sounded foreign, as if they belonged to someone else, to some other situation.
The woman’s brows lifted slightly, but she said nothing. She pulled out a notebook and jotted something on the top page. “Where?”
Dakota pointed up the block. “In an alley. Over there.”
“And when did this happen?’
“Please. I think he’s still—” How could she explain what had happened next? How, out of nowhere, a man she’d only met that night had stepped into the darkness and risked his own safety for her?
“You believe he’s still in the area, ma’am?”
Dakota nodded. “He’s beating up another guy.” Together, they moved toward the alley.
The officer placed one hand on her gun. “Stay back,” she ordered.
Dakota stopped. She felt again Sean’s calloused palm against her lips, his arm bending her arm behind her back, his stubbled cheek pressed against hers as he whispered threats. She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to know how bad it had gotten. She didn’t want to see Ethan’s bloodied face when the cop led him from the darkness.
“Ma’am, there’s no one here.”
What? Dakota stepped forward. “But—”
“You sure you’re in the right place?”
“Yes.” She glanced around and recognized all the buildings and signs around her. They’d been here. She would swear to it.
“Well, there’s no one here now.” The cop pulled out a flashlight and steadied the beam on the center of the narrow opening. Three garbage cans lay on their sides with their contents strewn across the pavement. Beside them was the broken wooden crate Dakota had fallen on. Beer bottles and crushed plastic cups. And at her feet, something that looked like a piece of cloth from Ethan’s shirt, a scrap of dark blue fabric torn in two. She bent to pick it up.
Other than that, nothing. No blood, no skin, no trace of Dakota’s heart breaking apart. Metallic fear filled her mouth. Gone. Both Sean and Ethan. She had no idea what to do next.
IN THE DARK OF THE alley, Ethan couldn’t make out much. Sean had craggy features, a lanky build, and hands that twitched in and out of fists. Wild eyes. A scar that cut one eyebrow in half. Profanity spilled from his lips. And he was unbalanced, jerky, looking around the space like he wasn’t sure where he was or if he wanted to be there. Ethan couldn’t believe Dakota would ever have given this guy the time of day.
“Tryin’ to be a hero, huh?” Sean dragged one forearm acr
oss his jaw, wiping away saliva and blood.
“Not trying to be anything.” But when a guy puts his hands on a woman the way you did to Dakota, well... Ethan raised both palms. “Listen, this can stop right here.”
“You’re givin’ in that easy? Pussy.”
Sean swung again, a weak punch that Ethan sidestepped. In return, he threw a right hook that landed on Sean’s shoulder. One more connected with Sean’s jaw, and this time his bottom lip split open. Ethan backed off. He hated fighting. Fourth grade? Sixth? It must have been that long since he’d squared off with anyone.
“She’s my girlfriend,” Sean said as he backed away. He spat on the ground.
“That’s not what she says.”
“Motherfucker.”
Ethan reached up to check his nose, pretty sure Sean had broken it. He rubbed his upper lip with his sleeve, which came away dark and wet. It was a funny way to rejoin the living, he supposed, meeting a random woman and then beating the living daylights out of a stranger just hours later. He supposed in some bizarre way, though, he didn’t mind. It would make a good story, raising himself from the dead in a burst of chivalry. Maybe he could even work it into an editorial someday. Mike would be proud, if Ethan survived to tell his friend the story. He imagined the curve of Dakota’s chin, the spirals of dark hair that fell over her eyes.
Or maybe this is a tale I’ll keep for myself.
He wondered if she’d managed to find a cop. He hoped so. With Sean spitting blood in the corner of the alley, he turned to look over his shoulder. Mistake. At once, cold metal pressed against the back of his neck. What the hell? His heart stopped.
“Take one fuckin’ step and I’ll pull the trigger.” Sean wrapped one hand around Ethan’s arm. “Swear to God.”
Countdown: Ethan Page 14
