“Please wait here,” I tell the driver, handing him a fifty. “I will give you another one of those and a generous tip when I return.” I don’t want to go into that building without a way of getting out of here, just in case Tony is delayed or I need to make a rapid exit.
“Lady, you sure you want to go in there?” He glances over his shoulder at me.
“My friend is on his way. He’ll be right behind me.”
I climb out of the back seat before I can second-guess myself, tying the belt of my three-quarter-length pink woolen coat firmly around my waist. I’m glad I dressed warmly because it’s freezing in New York today. At least there is no rain or snow, so I’m grateful for small mercies. Holding the strap of my Michael Kors purse, I walk quickly across the road in my black pantyhose and stilettos, heading toward the building Ben went into.
The building is in need of TLC, a lot like the area. Gray shutters are pulled down against the windows, and paint peels off the overhead sign. Weeds poke up between the asphalt as I stride across the parking lot. Besides Ben’s SUV, there are four other vehicles here, but the place appears virtually deserted.
Nerves prick at my skin as I approach the grimy front door. What the hell is this place, and what is Ben doing here? Wetting my dry lips and tucking my long blonde hair behind my ears, I draw a brave breath and open the door.
Music greets me as I step inside, but it’s low, just background noise in the dingy, dimly lit room. It’s a bar or club of some sort with a mix of booths and open seating areas surrounding an elevated section in the center of the room, resembling a runway with the addition of stripper poles.
Classy. Not.
It’s like the eighties threw up in here with its brick walls, tired décor, and dark wood furniture that looks like a throwback to Cheers. I scan the space, spotting the back of Ben’s head as he enters a rear door at the far side of the room. A burly guy with a shaved head and a scowl on his face stands guard in front of it, so I wander to the bar and pull up a stool to wait for Tony.
A lone bartender is working behind the bar, and he looks up when I sit down, gawking at me for a few seconds. I know I look out of place in a joint like this. I thought I was meeting Ben in a plush office in the middle of the Central Business District, and I dressed accordingly in my fitted long-sleeved black knee-length dress, black pantyhose, and skyscraper black Louboutins. Add the expensive pink coat and patterned silk scarf, and I stick out like a sore thumb in here.
“What can I get you, Miss?” he asks, masking his surprise.
“I’ll take two sparkling waters. Pellegrino if you have them.” He stares at me like I have spoken a foreign language. “Two bottles of water. Any will do,” I rephrase. “My colleague will be joining me shortly.”
Without saying a word, he retrieves two bottles from the fridge, placing them in front of me. I slap a twenty down on the counter. “Keep the change.” He tips his head and swipes the cash but otherwise ignores me.
Feeling eyes on me, I look right, noticing the two old perverts seated at the bar watching me with blatant curiosity. Apart from them and the two staff members, there is no one else around. I glance at my watch, willing Tony to hurry the fuck up, when the rear door opens and one of the guys who came in with Ben pops his head out, speaking to the man standing guard. The bodyguard nods and walks off across the room, exiting through a different door, while the other guy disappears back to where he came from.
The bartender is crouched down behind the bar, stacking drinks on shelves, so the only witnesses are the two perverts at the end of the bar. Sliding carefully off the stool, I walk on the dirty threadbare carpet in their direction. Handing each of them a hundred-dollar bill, I tap the side of my nose. “You didn’t see anything,” I tell them in a low voice, ignoring the fluttery feeling bouncing around my chest cavity and how all the tiny hairs on the back of my neck are standing at attention. I’m definitely channeling Esme right now, and Tony is going to string me up, but I’m not wasting the opportunity.
Keeping one eye on the bar, I walk quickly toward the rear door and slip inside, surprised to find stairs leading to a lower level. Blood rushes to my head, making me dizzy, and I clutch the wall until it passes. My heart is thumping wildly against my rib cage as I remove my shoes. Holding them in one hand, I slowly descend the stairs. My legs feel like they might go out from under me, and when a guttural scream rings out, I stall midway down the stairs, blood pounding in my skull as bile travels up my throat.
My cell rings in my pocket, and I about die, scrambling to mute the sound before someone hears. But I doubt anyone could hear over the incessant roars emerging from downstairs.
I’m frozen.
Rooted to the spot.
One-half of me is screaming to get the fuck out of here before I become that stupid person in every horror movie. You know, the one who just has to investigate and usually ends up paying for their curiosity with their life?
The other part of me needs to know what’s going on, and that part is overriding all sense of logic and self-preservation. My gut tells me to press on. That it will be okay.
Unless there’s another exit point in the basement level, Ben is down here. He won’t let anything happen to me. No matter how dangerous he is, he has protected me before, and I know he will keep me safe again.
13
SIERRA
Pushing through my fear, I force my limbs to move and continue forward. When my foot hits the floor, I have no choice but to turn left because it’s the only option. Keeping my bag clasped tightly to my chest and my shoes secured in my free hand, I flatten my body against the closest wall and move stealthily down the long corridor. Successive doors are on the left, all closed except for two in the middle that are slightly ajar.
Lighting is scant, and the only illumination comes from a flickering light bulb dangling from the cracked ceiling. Cobwebs cling to the corners of the walls, and I shudder as a blast of cold air swirls around me. The concrete floor is like ice under my shoeless feet, my pantyhose offering little protection.
My nostrils twitch as a godawful smell slaps me in the face. It reeks of sweat, stale piss, vomit, and other indistinguishable smells. I press my lips together and scrunch my nose, and it marginally helps to keep the grossness at bay. My stomach lurches, and I pray this isn’t the moment my pregnancy nausea kicks in.
Soldiering on, I take slow careful steps forward. I startle, as more roaring and screaming echoes through the basement, slapping a hand over my mouth to stop myself from reacting and giving myself away.
This is a bad idea.
But something is still prompting me to keep going, not to turn around, so I persevere, ignoring the vicious trembling in my body and the rapid beating of my heart.
As I approach the first open door, I press my spine flat to the wall, pricking my ears to determine if I hear movement in the space. I hear voices, jumping when another shout rings out, but it doesn’t sound like it’s coming from the room right beside me. The shouting is muffled, not piercing like it was when I first heard it on the stairs. Wherever it’s coming from, I don’t think it’s this room.
Making the sign of the cross, I risk a peek, relieved when I discover the empty room. I sneak inside, softly closing the door but not all the way. I stuff my hand in my mouth, blocking the scream ready to let rip when I lift my head, staring at the glass window in front of me. It looks right into the much larger room inside, and I’m waiting for one of the five men in that room to notice me, sure it’s about to happen when Ben’s friend, Leo, stares right at the window, straight at me. I stop breathing as I wait for him to call me out, but he turns back around, expression unchanged, as if he hasn’t seen me.