Back in Black (13 page)

She held back. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know yet. Let’s go.” He kept her to his right side, closer to the wall. People jammed into his back, knocked into his shoulder, shoved and shouted.

Audrey, bless her heart, did her best to keep up without a single complaint. She didn’t even seem worried.

When they reached the main floor, Brett saw Gregor Marsh. That fighter towered over others, making him easy to spot. Gregor had taken on the task of ushering folks out the front doors, keeping things orderly.

“What’s going on?” Brett asked as soon as he reached him.

Without taking his attention from directing the crowd, Gregor said, “Got a bomb threat.” He kept one fellow upright when he would have stumbled, and he stopped another from turning back to talk to a friend. In short, he added, “I’m helping Roger get everyone out.”

Bomb? Brett rocked back. Of all the things . . . well, he hadn’t expected that. Audrey said nothing.

He wanted her out of the place, and fast, so he didn’t ask any more questions.

“Got it. Thanks.” But before Brett could merge with the outgoing customers, Gregor caught his arm.

“We met the other day, right?”

Brett nodded. “Yeah.” With any luck, Gregor wouldn’t mention that they’d met in a gym.

“I sent my lady outside, kickin’ and bitchin’ and none too happy. Tall gal, sweet on the eyes. Jacki Marsh. Havoc’s little sister. Can you look after her for me until I get this place cleared?”

Understanding his worry, Brett clapped him on the shoulder. “Got it covered.”

“Thanks, dude.”

When Brett had to nudge Audrey along to get her moving again, he looked down and found her eyes as wide as saucers. But it wasn’t the mention of a bomb that had her boggled. Even as he led her away, she craned her head to stare back at Gregor.

Yeah, Gregor had that effect on lots of people, male and female alike. Even as heavyweight fighters went, Gregor was gargantuan, and solid as steel. To go with his impressive size, he had an abundance of tattoos, shaggy black hair, and ears thickened from his profession. His imposing visage didn’t quite match his congenial manner, though.

As he nudged Audrey along, he asked, “You okay?”

She nodded. “Was that guy a fighter?”

“Yeah. A good one, too.”

That made her thoughtful, and she said no more as they wended through the throng.

They got bottlenecked at the door as people insisted on wanting their jackets and wraps from the coat check. Idiots. Their jackets wouldn’t matter if they all got blown to bits. Two employees of Roger’s Rodeo continued to calmly and insistently move the patrons forward.

Finally Brett got them both through the door. Thick black clouds blocked the stars, and rain threatened. People milled about right outside the club, trying to find shelter beneath the overhang. If there was a bomb, how safe did they think they’d be standing so near the building?

For now, he left them to their own fates and started to lead Audrey across the street. Then, from behind them, he heard someone yell out her name.

For the first time, Audrey looked unsettled as she jerked around and searched the crowd. “Millie?”

She couldn’t see over the masses, but Brett spotted Millie’s red hair as she went on tiptoe, calling out to them again. Somehow she’d gotten hemmed into an alcove and the flow of human traffic wouldn’t allow her to get free.

“I heard Millie,” Audrey told him. She started to push past, to reenter the club.

“I see her,” Brett told Audrey. “She’s okay.” Now where to take Audrey? Across the street, beyond the parking lot would be his first choice. But a few unfamiliar men stood over there, and he wasn’t about to leave Audrey alone with men he didn’t know.

Brett was deciding what to do next when, beside them, a tall woman called out orders to the others. She had a fun, eclectic style that seemed at odds with her drill sergeant tone as she instructed people to clear the doorways, to distance themselves from the building, and to stop pushing and shoving.

Seeing that she held her own against the milling, panicked bystanders, Brett yelled to her, “Jacki?”

And she looked up.

Perfect. Audrey reluctantly allowed him to edge her in that direction. As soon as he reached Jacki, he said, “Gregor told me that I could count on you for some help.”

“Did he?” Jacki still looked pissed that she was outside and Gregor wasn’t. “Doing what?”

“If you and Audrey go across the street, at least to the other side of the cars parked there, then others will probably follow.”

“Brett, wait.” Audrey strained against him. “I can’t go without Millie.”

He caught her face. “I’m getting her, okay? But you need to get out of harm’s way first.”

She started to protest, and Brett’s temper kicked in.

“Damn it, Audrey, you’ll only get trampled, and I’d like to know how the hell that’s going to help Millie.”

As if they weren’t threatened by a bomb, Audrey scowled up at him. “I’m not stupid, Brett.”

“Then let me go get Millie.”

“Okay, but hurry it up. She’s uncomfortable with crowds.”

Which would have been a good reason for her not to dodge into a busy club
. Brett looked at Jacki for assistance.

She rolled her eyes. “You guys are all such cavemen, I swear. But . . . I guess it is a good idea.”

Someone plowed into Jacki, almost knocking her off balance, and with a feral look she brought her elbow back, causing a guy to yelp. “Well, come on, Audrey. Let’s lead the pack.”

“Fine.” Beside Jacki, Audrey looked even more petite, but she had no problem snagging others along the way. Between the two women, they soon had a small contingent across the street.

With Audrey safe, Brett wedged back into the club, pushing against a slow-moving group of friends who’d had way too much to drink. He found Millie on the verge of tears. Stationing himself in front of her, he caused a block to the now dwindling swarm. Above the din of excited voices, he could hear Gregor issuing orders to some stragglers, and ahead of him, he saw Roger Sims, the owner of the club, double-checking down corridors and in closets.

Brett pulled Millie out in front of him. When she stumbled, he looped one arm around her and kept her on her feet. She was almost as short as Audrey, but not as slight of build. Once outside, he didn’t pause.

“Audrey’s across the street.”

Clinging to his arm, Millie nodded. “Thank you so much, Brett.”

His brain cramped at the thought of a bomb.
Why?
Did someone have a grudge against Roger or the patrons of the bar? “Not a problem.”

“I tried,” Millie told him, embarrassed, “but I couldn’t get out of there. What happened, anyway? Why is everyone—?”

“Bomb threat, I’m told.” Maybe Gregor had misunderstood. “But I don’t know for sure.” He got Millie over to Audrey and started back for the club.

Audrey grabbed for him. “Where are you going?”

“If Millie got stuck, maybe someone else did, too. If Roger tries to check every nook and cranny himself, he’ll never get out of there.”

Jacki called after him, saying, “It’s probably a hoax, but just in case, none of you should play hero. Tell Gregor I said to get out of there, and fast.”

Brett sent her an affirmative wave and jogged back. Inside the building, he saw Gregor scouring the rooms upstairs, Roger downstairs.

“What can I do?”

Frazzled and furious, Roger glanced at him with suspicion. “Who the hell are you?”

From upstairs, Gregor yelled, “Brett Bullman. He’s a fighter.”

Roger hesitated only a moment before nodding. “Thanks. We’re about done in here, but if you could get people to clear the front door and at least go across the street until the cops show up, that’d be great.” He started to walk away, then added, “Brett? Use force if you have to. Just get them away from here.”

“You got it.” Brett headed back out. Sirens sounded in the distance. Only about fifteen minutes had passed, but it felt like an hour. As he started people moving, he glanced across the street at Audrey. She, Millie, and Jacki were directing people, encouraging them toward less chitchat and more action.

Something close to pride unfurled inside Brett. Audrey had a good head on her shoulders, and now that she’d gotten her bearings, she reacted with cool control. Other women were huddled together, some gabbing too loudly, a few crying, one lamenting a broken heal on her sandal.

But Audrey took charge.

Roger and Gregor joined Brett on the perimeter just as the police arrived. The officer in charge instructed the others to turn off their radios because radio frequencies could be used to trigger a bomb.

Agog over that information, Gregor looked at Brett and whistled.

Uniformed cops started pushing everyone back even more while other cops shut down the street one block up both ways. The guy in charge joined them. Roger greeted him with an extended hand, introducing himself as the owner of the club.

“Officer Sparks.” He surveyed the area. “Tell me what happened.”

Gregor looked at Brett again and mouthed the name:
Sparks?

Brett shrugged; that was irony for you. A guy named Sparks investigating a bomb threat. Not that there was anything remotely humorous about this situation.

Roger paid no attention to the man’s name at all. “My bartender got the call and forwarded it to me in my office. I was just about to head home—” As if struck, Roger pressed a fist to his forehead. “I have to call my wife to let her know why I’m late, damn it. She was waiting on me. If she hears about this—”

Gregor said, “I’ll call her, Rog,” and he already had his cell phone out, using his thumb to press in numbers.

“Thanks.” Roger closed his eyes a moment. “Make sure she knows everyone is fine.”

Nodding, Gregor turned his back on them to speak quietly to Roger’s wife.

Brett could only imagine what Roger felt. He’d not only had a scare, and had his business threatened, but he held responsibility for over a hundred people who’d been inside. Right now, some of the people were grumbling about a wasted meal or a drink they didn’t get to finish.

Roger would lose money on this, as well as credibility.

Furious with the situation, Roger brought himself back around. “It was a man, and he said that the place was set to blow, that a bomb had been hidden here with the intent of killing Drew Black and as many fighters as possible.”

Brett went still. Oh, hell. This was about Drew?

Gregor closed his cell with a whistle.

Running a hand through his hair, Roger cursed. “I asked the bastard where the bomb was, but he told me to clear the place or a lot of people would die, then he hung up.” His hands curled into fists. “I haven’t even seen Drew here tonight. Hell, most of the fighters show up on the weekend, not during the week, so it couldn’t have been anyone real familiar with my clientele.”

Frowning in thought, Officer Sparks asked, “Was Drew Black supposed to be here? Did he have a meeting that someone knew about, and maybe he canceled?”

“Not that I’m aware of, but I don’t exactly keep tabs on that stuff.” Roger shrugged his shoulders. “My wife is Dean Conor’s sister.”

“My wife, too,” Gregor said. And when Sparks looked at him in confusion, he explained, “Roger’s wife is Cam, my wife is Jacki, and Havoc is their brother.”

The cop must’ve been a fan, because he knew Dean Conor’s fighting name of Havoc.

“Was Havoc here tonight?” He looked around the milling group of people with hope.

“He’s out of town doin’ a promo gig,” Gregor said.

With sudden perception, the cop looked at him anew. “You’re Gregor Marsh,
the Maniac
.”

“One and only.” Gregor winked at him.

“I’ll be damned.”

Brett could almost feel Roger’s palpable frustration as he gestured in explanation. “There are a lot of fighters that hang out here. You can’t take two steps without tripping over one. Dean came to visit, then he opened a gym, more fighters came to town, and my honky-tonk turned into more of a . . .”

“Fight club,” Gregor supplied.

“But still a honky-tonk, too,” Roger insisted.

Brett wondered what the hell it mattered. He turned to the cop. “I met with Drew here at the club the other day. Like Roger said, on a weekend. But far as I know, he does a lot of his business here. If he had a meeting tonight, I don’t know about it. But it’s possible.”

The officer took that in. “Anyone got his number?”

Roger shook his head, Gregor noticed Jacki waving at him and headed that way, so Brett found Drew’s card in his wallet. He read the number to Officer Sparks.

“What now?” Roger asked.

“We’ll have to sweep the place, make sure there isn’t a bomb before we let anyone back in.”

“Not rushing you or anything, but do you know how long that will take?”

“Two to four hours, give or take.” The officer looked around at the growing mob. “After the county sheriff’s department’s bomb-sniffing K-9 team clears the site, we’ll do a visual. They should be here soon.” He turned back to Roger. “Not sure how late you’re open during the week, but it might be a good idea to call it a night.”

“I assumed as much.” Roger withdrew a stack of vouchers from his pocket. “Do you need me anymore, or can I gather up my people to hand these out?”

“Don’t leave,” the officer told him, “but feel free to handle your guests.”

“Thanks.” Roger went off to gather up his employees and explain how vouchers would be given for free drinks, and for interrupted meals and games.

Brett searched for Audrey. Now that patrons from other nearby establishments had joined them to get the scoop, there had to be a couple hundred people or more hanging out. At least with the roadblocks, there wasn’t any traffic except for those leaving the area.

He found her sitting on the curb at the corner, a safe distance from the threat and the chaos, talking quietly with Millie.