Worcester Nights - The Boxed Set (10 page)

A scratching noise came from the alley, and that settled the issue for me. I pushed the door open slightly and stepped in.

The warehouse was fairly large, about the size of a football field, and all the windows were boarded over from the inside. The area near me was all in darkness and shadows, with stacks of boxes and other random supplies piled in haphazard heaps. A grouping of large lights on stands was at the far end, centered around in a circle. There were low voices and milling people.

Curious, I stepped forward.

I had reached a pyramid of Guinness cases when the scene resolved more clearly for me, and I staggered, leaning against them. It took a minute for my brain to catch up with my eyes, for the meaning of the scene to coalesce into a firm thought.

The lights were all pointed at a large, king-sized bed, done up in black satin sheets with red accent pillows. The Japanese girl from several nights ago was sprawled, naked, across its center, and one hand languidly stroked the shaft of a middle-aged man who stood at the side of the bed. She looked half-bored, half-annoyed.

On the other side of the bed, the Renaissance beauty from yesterday was standing with a crimson robe around her, her face done in bright makeup. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Mrs. O’Malley was speaking to her through gritted teeth, her voice low, but the emotion evident with every sharp movement of her hand.

Finally she pointed to the bed, reached out her hand, and ripped the robe off of the girl, leaving her pale skin stark naked under the glare of the spotlights.

I spun in place, racing the short distance to the door, slipping through, and closing it carefully behind me. My heart pounded against my ribs as if it wanted to break free and run … run …

I climbed back onto the bike, in complete shock, retreating within my closed visor and my leather jacket. I wrapped my arms around my body, still unable to fully take in what I had seen.

The door opened, and Sean strode out, coming over to the bike with a satisfied look on his face. He slipped on his helmet, closed the visor, and my earpiece crackled into life. “And here we go! Ready for a ride?”

Unable to speak, I tapped him on the leg. He rolled on the throttle, and we eased away from the warehouse, abandoning all those within to their torment.

As he took us up onto the highway, I brought my phone out of my pocket and, with shaking fingers, queued up Mozart’s “Requiem”. He chuckled as the first notes echoed through our ears.

“In the mood for some music, are we?”

I tapped his leg in confirmation.

I could hear the smile in his voice. “As you wish, my darling.” He revved the bike, bringing up the speed, and the world flew by.

I barely knew where we went. The music soared and cried. The landscape turned from rolling hills to ocean waves. And yet all I could see were the streaks of tears on the young woman’s face, the hollow shock in her eyes as her robe was stripped from her, as she was exposed to the group. She had not made any move to cover herself. She had seemed trapped, helpless, beyond saving.

I blinked. We had come to a stop on my street, in front of my house. I had lost complete track of time. The sun was easing below the horizon, in deep crimsons and fiery oranges, and they reminded me of the house in Sean’s studio apartment, burning, burning, burning.

He turned off the bike’s ignition. His voice was cheery. “And here we are!”

My throat closed up. I couldn’t think. I didn’t know what to do. The thought of going back to the bar turned my stomach, and I swayed.

He half turned. “You OK back there?”

I found my voice. “I’m not feeling well. I think I’m going to call in sick tonight.”

His voice took on a note of concern. “It wasn’t the pancakes, was it? Could you be allergic to something?”

I shook my head, forcing my tone to be even. “I think my landlady had the flu last week, and maybe I got it from her. I just want to go in and rest.”

“I’ll come in and –”

I shook my head, climbing off the bike. “I appreciate it, but I’d rather just go in and crash for the night. I’ll keep the helmet, and that way when you come get me tomorrow I’ll be all good to go.”

He drew me into a hug. “If you’re sure, but how can I kiss you goodbye?”

“I don’t want to get you sick,” I murmured. Truth was, I knew if I lifted my visor, and he got a clear look at my face, that he’d know something was wrong. And I doubted I’d get free of him easily after that.

He chuckled. “Sick from a kiss? After how close we were last night, that -”

My voice nearly broke. “Please …”

He stilled. “You really are worn down, you poor thing. You should have said something.”

I shrugged, biting my lip. I was afraid I might burst into tears if this went on for any longer.

At last he gently patted the side of my helmet. “You go on in. You seem exhausted. Get some rest. I’ll come by in the morning and see if you’re feeling better.

I squeezed his hand, and then I turned and walked to my house. Once in my room, I went to my window and waved at him. He waved back, and then his bike eased smoothly down the street and out of view.

I took off the helmet, placed it on my dresser, lay face down on my bed, and sobbed.

Chapter 10

I
held on as Sean carefully threaded the bike into the back lot behind the bar, drawing to a stop by the shed’s door. I climbed off the back and stood aside as he unlocked the latch. When he pushed in the bike I followed him into the shed, not saying a word. My helmet had been firmly in place when he arrived at my street, and I had barely spoken on our trip over. He had been concerned, but seemed to ascribe my short answers to my flu. More than once he had asked if I wanted to call in sick again, but I had refused.

I wanted to see Jimmy with my own eyes.

How could Jimmy and his wife be involved with this? Surely there was some mistake. It was one thing for him to be overly amorous with every woman who came within reach. But what I had seen yesterday had escalated the situation beyond my worst nightmares. I could still not quite bring it all in. Some part of me hoped it was a mistake – a bizarre hallucination created by a flash fever.

But I knew, deep in my heart, that what I had seen was real.

Sean removed his helmet and put it on a high ledge, then turned to me. “Hand it over,” he teased.

I blinked my eyes several times, took in a deep breath, then undid the latch. I slid the helmet up off my head and handed it to him.

He put it on the shelf alongside his, turned back to me – and stopped. He put a hand out to my cheek, his brow furrowing.

“Jesus Christ, Kay.”

I flushed. I knew I looked ragged from the long night of crying and lack of sleep, but I had done the best I could with cold washcloths and make-up.

Apparently it had not been enough.

His voice was tight. “You need to go home, Kay. You don’t look well at all. You should be in bed.”

That’s where I wanted to be – curled up beneath the covers, the pillow over my head, the door locked. But I resolutely shook my head.

“I’ll be fine,” I insisted. “I want to see Jimmy.”

Something in my tone of voice caught his attention. He tilted his head slightly, like a hunting dog which has caught the barest hint of a hidden deer. His gaze settled more deeply into mine, and his fingers brushed down my cheek to my shoulder.

His voice steeled with concern and determination. “What is it, Kay? What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t help it. The exhaustion, the worry, the being apart from him, all coalesced into an ache which delved into my core. I folded against him, his arms automatically came up around me, and tears cascaded from my eyes.

He groaned, drawing me in hard against him. “What is it, Kay? Tell me what it is. Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”

At long last he gently pushed me back, looking down into my eyes. His gaze called for me to trust in him. “You can tell me.”

My throat closed up, and I could barely get the words out. “I know, Sean. I know the truth. And I don’t know what to do.”

A ripple of tension moved through him, and he turned for a moment, slipping his phone into the speaker on the shelf. A push of a button, and Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata began playing. Usually the slow, steady notes soothed me, but today they merely drove my panic into stronger waves.

Sean dropped his voice, taking my face between his hands. His gaze held mine with serious focus. “Kay, what do you know?”

I found it hard to even say the words out loud. “Sean, I followed you. I followed you into the warehouse. I saw the girls, and the bed, and then Mrs. O’Malley stripped the robe off that girl …”

I couldn’t continue. My tears started fresh, in waterfalls, and my legs could barely hold me up.

His breath left him, and he drew me in again. He ran his hand down my hair, soothing me as if I were a little girl. The music rolled on, rich, aching, and at long last I had run out of tears and my breathing had slowed again.

His voice remained low, and it was hard to read the emotion behind it. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Kay. You shouldn’t have to see that warehouse. And I’ll get us free of it. I just need a little time. You need to trust me.”

My voice cracked. “But that girl …”

He nodded. “Girls get lured into that type of situation every day, because the market demands fresh, new meat. They probably thought they were being recruited for an indie film and were star-struck at the opportunity. Then, with one twist after another, they found themselves under those bright lights.”

I looked up at him. “We have to save them.”

He kissed me on the forehead. “We should get you home.”

I shook my head again. “I’m staying.” I brushed at my face. “I want to see Jimmy.”

His brow creased in concern. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I won’t attack him,” I assured him, although saying the words sent a rush of pleasure through me. “I just want to look at him. Besides, I promised Eileen I’d stay.”

As much as I tried to inject enthusiasm into the sentence, a deadness echoed in my heart when I finished. I didn’t know if I could do it. Even with all Eileen had done for me, this was asking too much.

His lips drew into a thin line, but at last he nodded. “If you’re sure.”

I turned and walked to the shed door. He took his phone from the speaker; the music vanished, replaced with a dense silence. We walked together into the bar. I took my normal station behind it, while he settled on a stool. His eyes held on me, dense with a swirl of emotion.

Jimmy was by the pool table, talking with the players, and his eyes lit up as we came into the room. “There you are, my Katie!” he called out, his arms wide. His forehead creased as he drew closer. “Good God, girl, you look like shit. You sure you want to be here?”

I nodded, drawing my eyes over him. Somehow I’d expected him to sprout red-tipped horns from his skull or to have developed razor-sharp canines. But he was the same Jimmy he’d always been, the wide, bright smile and the fluffy body. He was like the friendly uncle that everybody loved at parties.

How could he be involved in what was going on?

Sean reached his hand across the counter, and I twined my fingers into his. His gaze held rich concern.

There was the tinkle of a bell, and my heart constricted in turmoil. I could barely bring myself to turn, to see –

A moppet. A cascade of blonde curls. The girl was tall, perhaps five-feet-nine, but slender, wearing a Worcester Crew aqua t-shirt and long, black sweats. She had a bright, hopeful gleam in her eyes which made my heart ache.

She was fifteen.

Jimmy bounced forward with enthusiasm, drawing his arm around her shoulder, and she flinched. A flare of tension burst through my shoulders, and Sean’s fingers tightened on mine. A new level of serious attention was in his gaze, a steel I had not seen etched there before.

Jimmy’s voice was bright. “This way, my darling.” He ushered her down the hall toward his office.

I took in one deep breath, then two … then I was storming from behind the bar, prepared to –

Sean swept me up from behind, continued walking me down past their office, out the back door, and back into the shed. He shut the door, popped his phone into the cradle, and swiped at it while turning to me.

The soundtrack to Gladiator came on. Normally I adored the power of the piece, the contrast of a choreographed Viennese waltz counterpointed with the brutal efficiency of the Roman Empire war machine.

But in this shadowy shed, with the thought of that innocent fifteen-year-old girl falling into the clutches of Jimmy’s predatory hands, the music only fired my determination to do righteous battle.

My voice came out in a hiss. “We have to stop him! Sean, he’s in there with her. We have to get her out!”

Sean’s face was lost in the darkness. “Kay, we need to take it slow.”

My voice rose. “Slow? Sean, she’s fifteen!
Fifteen!
She’ll be scarred for life! My God, how can you sit here even talking about this?”