Courage is fear
holding on a minute
longer.
George S. Patton
I wait a few minutes before I leave the restroom. The music in the club has shut off already by the time I reenter the main area of the club, searching for Aimee. There are several police officers inside, clearing out the club. Some of the faces in the crowd show confusion, but in general, everyone looks excited, even though their night is being cut short by the cops.
It’s bewildering.
But I can’t dwell on it, because a pair of hands grab me. I jump, alarmed, already on edge from the hallway incident.
“Relax! It’s just me.” Aimee throws her head back and laughs. “We’ve been looking all over for you! The police are here, Lucy! This is so exciting.”
Zeke nods behind her. “We should leave. We don’t want to be caught in the crossfire.”
Crossfire?
His words, like the rest of this bizarre night, strike me as odd.
I fold my arms across my chest, not budging when he tries to usher Aimee and I towards the door. “Crossfire. What do you mean by that?” I don’t bother restraining the accusation tingeing my voice.
He sighs, and I see him glance at the door with a contemplative look, as if he’s debating just leaving us here.
Don’t even think about it, buddy.
Are all men assholes or is it just New Yorkers?
He turns back to me and gives me a disbelieving look. “This is the Rogue,” he says like it explains everything.
I give him a blank look. “And?”
Aimee glances back and forth between us, a frown tugging on the edges of her red lips.
“And it belongs to the mafia,” Zeke says, sighing again.
Am I just a pain in everyone’s ass today?
And then I process what Zeke said.
The mafia?!
But he isn’t done. “The Romano family, to be exact.”
Oh.
Oh.
Oh, no.
The Romano family.
I grew up across the country and I’ve been gone for a couple years now, but even I know who the Romano family is. They’re one of the five American crime families. The entire Northeast of the United States and parts of Canada are their territory. They’re big time, and the idea of being in a club owned by the Romano family is absolutely frightening.
Can it be that The Hallway Incident is connected to the damn mafia?!
It’s then that I know I have truly fucked up. I can’t come back from this. I interfered with mob business. I can only hope that no one has seen me or cares enough to find me. I remember the fury on Asher’s face, and the memory causes a shiver to ease its way down my spine.
I really need to get out of here. Now. And pray to every god in the universe that no one will find out that I called the cops on the mafia. The Romano family.
Oh, my God.
Everything makes sense now. The guards. Asher’s money. The pat down. The gun. The people who ignored what was happening. Bastian. The 9-1-1 operator. The sheer amount of cops in here right now.
I eye the door like it’s my salvation and nod. “Okay, let’s get out of here.”
I’m playing it cool on the outside as Zeke leads Aimee and me out of Rogue, pushing through the crammed crowd, but I’m dying on the inside. Literally. In my head, I’m replaying the million different ways this might end in my death like a morbid movie reel on repeat. I’m also mentally putting my affairs in order. But really, no one will miss me, and I have nothing of value to leave behind.
I grew up in the California foster care system, jumping from home to home before I aged out and left to volunteer around the world. No one even knows I’m in New York, except the school records and Aimee, who I’ve only just met today. The mob can easily dispose of me, and nobody will even blink an eye. That’s a depressing thought.
By the time we reach the doors, I have assured myself at least a dozen times that no one saw me enter the hallway. That Bastian and the girl were too busy arguing to notice me. When we exit Rogue, a line of cop cars catches my eye. I curse, causing Aimee to send me a confused look. But I barely notice it. I’m too angry at the police operator for lying.
That asshole told me that a patrol car was coming.
One.
Not eight!
I can’t believe I didn’t think about it when I saw how many officers were in the club ushering people outside. I want to groan and put myself out of my misery before the Romano family can. I’m the reason why eight cop cars are here. No way will they be able to let this go.
There are actually only two officers outside, though. The rest are probably still in the nightclub, kicking people out and doing whatever it is they’re doing. The two officers are talking to Asher, who is leaning against a police cruiser with a devil may care attitude sprawled across his indifferent face. If I didn’t see how angry he was when he learned the cops had been called, I would have thought that nothing can faze him.
There’s an eager crowd surrounding Asher and the officers. Some of them even have their smartphones out, recording the whole thing. Aimee pulls Zeke and I to a stop, her round eyes fixated on Asher with a look of hunger in them. I frown. Can’t she see that he’s dangerous?
But even I have to admit that his shady mafia connections do nothing to dim my attraction to him. There’s no denying how alluring this man is.
Even if he did leave me hanging…
Oh, no.
The realization cuts me deeply.
I hooked up with a mobster.
I watch as one of the officers’ hand twitches near his weapon holster. Asher’s eyes narrow at the action, and he straightens from his position against the police car. The movement comes off as a taunt.
I tense, preparing myself for a battle that I imagine Asher will win. But it doesn’t come, because the officer’s radio goes off. Through it, someone is saying something about two suspects fleeing out of the back entrance. I remember what Asher said to Bastian about going through the back and know instantly that it’s Bastian and the girl.
Asher’s body is no longer relaxed. He has a neutral look on his face, but I can see the tightening of his shoulders and the apprehensively coiled muscles of his neck. I wonder if anyone else can see it, but the officers have taken off toward the back of Rogue and with them goes most of the crowd.
If we stay any longer, it will only be us and Asher. That definitely cannot happen. I place a hand on Aimee’s back and one on Zeke’s, urging them both forward. We’re practically running now.
“Dude! What’s your problem?” Aimee is frowning. Her head is still turned in Asher’s direction, a look of awe and lust written all over her face.
“Nothing. I just… It’s the mob.” I continue to push Zeke and Aimee until we are a comfortable distance from Rogue.
Aimee rolls her eyes. “Relax, Lucy! They have no idea we exist.” Then, her eyes light up, and she squeals. “But ohmigosh, did you see that?! That was so cool. I love New York!” She sighs a contented sigh. “Best. Night. Ever.”
Zeke rolls his eyes and calls an Uber for us, but I am too out of it to really pay attention to what is going on. I distantly see them exchanging numbers before Zeke leaves in his own cab. A car comes, and I’m ushered into it. Aimee and I are alone in the back of the car as the driver rounds the vehicle to his side, having just shut the door for us.
“Relax,” she says again.
But I can’t relax. Even when we arrive back to the dorms and I’m tucked into bed, I can’t relax. As I go to close my eyes, I realize that my hands are bleeding. They’ve been curled into fists for the last half of the night. I clenched them so tightly, my nails pierced my skin, leaving crescent shaped grooves across my palms.
I never go to sleep that night.