Page 2 of Layne Closure Ahead

So, when there was panic laced in his voice and his words stuttering, she was quick to believe him when he told her that shit was hitting the fan at the exclusive VIP underground gambling club. Also, a good indication was the sound of crashing and shattering glass in the background. Doesn’t sound very lucky for a place named after a mirror, does it?

After hauling ass downtown, she parked in the underground garage. Layne got out of her car and rounded to the trunk where she rummaged around for some tools of the trade. She opted for the wooden baseball bat that had rolled to the back of the compartment.

Layne could use a little stress relief today, and whatever was going on inside was likely going to give her the chance to find a healthier outlet by comparison to other available options. Relatively speaking, of course.

As she anxiously awaited inside the elevator to arrive at the designated floor, she texted Liam:

Layne

Handling business at the Mirror.

S.O.S. received from Diego.

Standby.

Liam

Whatever, I’m busy.

Shut it all down if you have to.

I don’t give a fuck.

She drew in an attempt at a therapeutically deep breath at Liam’s indifference. Layne tucked her phone away and reassessed the grip on the wooden bat in her hand. She couldn’t focus on Liam’s inability to cope with problems right now, she needed to get her head in the game.

When the doors of the elevator slid open, the bland and undecorated hallway was quiet. She stalked to the end of the hall where a twin set of glossy black doors were. After punching in the master security code to allow her access, she cautiously pulled a door open to slip inside.

The Brass Mirror was just beyond the entrance. The walls were painted gold with black accents, and red velvet chairs should have been perfectly positioned at various table setups across the space. The decor was sickeningly pretentious and it matched the filthy rich bastards that maintained membership here to carelessly sling their funds around.

When Layne walked in, tables and chairs were in utter disarray. Poker chips were spread on the floor like New Year’s Eve confetti. Multiple mirrors were in pieces around the perimeter of the room superstitiously racking up decades of bad luck.

Grown-ass men were wrangling with one another, while some pieces of arm candy were shrieking incessantly. She cringed at the high-pitched wails adding to the soundtrack of violence and destruction.

“Here we go,” Layne muttered to herself. She rotated her wrist getting a feel for the weight of the bat in her hand with a single rotation, ready to wield it where necessary.

She stomped toward the first set of grappling men, doubled up her grip on the handle, and wound up. Unleashing her swing on the back of one man’s knees it instantly dropped him to the ground.

One for the money.

It left the other man in shock, only to be greeted with her backhanded swing connecting underneath his chin. The sickening cracking of bone and shattering teeth should have bothered her, but today was not that day.

Two for the show.

Layne saw the second man drop like a fly while howling in pain as blood poured from his mouth. She pointed the tip of the bat at the first man who was already propping himself up on one knee. “Stay.” The threat of an additional strike loomed on that single word spoken.

She looked across the room and saw Diego in an altercation with a man wielding an empty beer bottle. “For fucks’ sake, Diego,” she cursed under her breath before navigating through the strewn-about furniture.

“Alan! Let’s talk this through!” Diego spinelessly raised his hands defensively trying to avoid getting assaulted by an empty bottle.

It took Layne one swing to smack the bottle from the attacker’s grasp, sending the empty brown container towards the wall where the sound of its shattering echoed across the room. She didn’t hesitate to follow up with a second strike right to his gut, and a final third to his back as he doubled over in pain. He fell flat onto the floor.

Three to get ready.

Resting the bat against the front of her shoulder, she let Diego feel the anger in her gaze that she had to come down here to clean this shit up. With one hand on her hip, she scolded him. “You told me you ramped up security. What the hell happened?”

Diego opened his mouth to spout some insufficient apology, but from behind her, a hand grabbed onto the top of her bloodied bat while a large bicep wrapped around her throat snatching the midpoint of the piece of lumber and yanking her back.

The length of the bat pressed to her throat forced her back into the brick wall of a man behind her. Her hands latched back onto the bat pushing forward and away to relieve the pressure against her neck. Layne swung her body to the side pushing one end of the bat up allowing enough of a gap to squeeze out of the tight space.

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