Page 7 of Spice's Halloween

Iwiped the counter down one last time and called out to Bart. The huge owner came lumbering from the kitchen and leaned against the doorjamb.

“All done, Lindy girl?”

“Yeah, Bart. I’m off now. Thanks for earlier,” I replied, referring to the incident with David.

The prick had boldly come to the bar tonight and created a scene. One which Bart did not approve of. Bart had fisted the back of David’s shirt and marched him out, and then booted David straight up his ass. What had David thought he’d accomplish, I’d no idea, but he’d failed miserably.

David had been ranting so fast and furiously I’d honestly not understood a word. Later, someone informed me that David had been fired from his job… for fucking the boss’s wife. Karma was a bitch. Of course, the photocopied page from David’s book being mysteriously sent to his boss was a mystery… not. Everyonein Camden knew about David, and hundreds of questions were being asked.

Several of the customers tonight had inquired if their wives were mentioned, and I’d confirmed yay or nay accordingly. David had burned me, and in revenge, I was setting his world on fire and not in a good way. Maybe I was being hateful, but I didn’t care. All I could imagine were those bitches’ faces when they spoke to me or saw me.

Well, they weren’t so smug now.

Bart had been amused when I told him five days ago what had happened. A nasty thought had crossed my mind that David had brought his conquests here. Bart had assured me he hadn’t, or he’d have broken David’s legs. However, Bart didn’t deny hearing rumours. Knowing Bart, he wouldn’t have repeated them because that wasn’t something he’d do. A man, according to Bart, didn’t gossip.

“Stay safe, darlin’,” Bart called as he emptied the cash drawer to take the takings to the safe.

That was Bart’s last routine every night before having a smoke outside and heading to his apartment above the bar.

“You too, boss,” I replied and left, closing the doors.

My car was parked close to the exit and under a light. That was the only reason Bart was letting me walk out by myself. I pulled the keys from my purse and reached out to open the door; as I did, a heavy blow smashed into my arm.

“Bitch,” a voice hissed, and something hard hit my temple.

Then it was lights out.

Spice – The past.

Riding home this late from a job wasn’t ideal. I should have crashed at the clubhouse, but I yearned for my bed tonight. AsI rode past Bart’s Bar, I spotted Lindy’s car parked up with the door open. That was strange.

Curious, I pulled over, checked my watch, and realised it was half-past two in the morning. The bar closed at two, so Lindy should have left. The open car door was cause for even greater concern.

Illegally pulling a U-turn, I spun around and entered the parking lot, drawing up close to Lindy’s vehicle. My heart leapt in my throat as I rounded the driver’s side and spied a figure on the ground.

“Shit! Bart!” I bellowed as I jumped off my bike and headed for the body. “Bart!” I roared again as I crouched and nearly lost it when I recognised Lindy.

Her face had been battered and was so swollen she was virtually unrecognisable. Lindy’s right cheek had a deep cut made by a ring, and her lips were split and bleeding. There was a large lump on her head, and I saw a pipe wrench nearby.

“What the fuck?” Bart yelled as he came around the car.

“Get an ambulance,” I ordered as I checked for Lindy’s pulse.

Bart began hurrying back to the bar when a truck peeled out, tyres screeching. We exchanged glances.

“Lindy’s barely breathing, and her pulse is thready. Bart, I can’t give chase. Get on the damn phone before we lose her,” I snapped.

Bart nodded and hurried inside. I was doing my hardest to ignore the fact that Lindy’s clothes were torn, and her jeans were yanked down. Bart reappeared and took in the scene.

“Spice, we can’t let people see Lindy like that,” Bart muttered. Upset, I agreed and pulled her pants up. I was careful where I touched. The police might find evidence on her panties.

“Did you spot anyone, Spice?” Bart asked, and he lit a smoke up.

“No. I spotted Lindy’s car and wondered why it was here and doubled back to check,” I replied.

Lindy had been battered and sexually assaulted. I didn’t know if she’d been full-on raped, but some sexual activity had happened. And the suspect pool was fuckin’ massive after the week Lindy had just survived. This could be anyone—an angry husband, a furious woman, you name it.

Sirens blared in the distance as Bart and I watched.

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