Page 1 of Dangerous Rhythm

one

New York City—A bitter night in December

Igotta get the fuck out of here.

The heavy door slammed shut, muting the eardrum-shattering music playing on the club floor. Despite the concrete wall, the beats still echoed in the dimly lit hall. He swore the pounding was in his head, prompting him to seek refuge from the throbbing ache. He massaged his temples to ease the pain, but it clung on.

I should lay off the booze.

Though thinking about it, he hadn’t finished the drink he’d ordered a couple of hours ago. While the group he was there withhad hit the floor, Curtis had stayed in the booth, nursing the one glass of neat scotch. He didn’t feel like grinding himself against a throng of sweaty drunk people. He wasn’t sure why he’d come. The club wasn’t even his vibe, but he had nothing better to do.

The air in the hallway was much cooler than the suffocating club. It penetrated his shirt and warm skin and did a better job of clearing his head. He threw his leather jacket on and looked along the hallway for a red EXIT sign. When he didn’t see one, he turned to his right—toward the east, if his memory of the club's general layout was correct. There had to be a door leading to the outside from there, he figured. No way would he jump back into that cesspool and fight his way out to the main door.

Ah, here we go.

Finally spotting the red glowing sign at the end of the hallway, Curtis pushed through the door and found himself in a stairwell. He was about to skip down the stairs when he heard a voice pleading, “Please, please. I wasn’t trying anything! It’s not me!”

Curtis froze by the door, listening.

“You better keep your fucking hands off her,” another voice threatened. The sound of bone breaking and an agony-filled scream echoed in the cavernous space.

Snatching his phone out, Curtis dialed 911.

“911. What’s your emergency?” An operator questioned.

“I’m at The Morrigan’s Club. There’s an—” The sound of a man beating the shit of another person interrupted Curtis and sent his already pissy mood into a full-on rage. He flew down to the level below, not finishing his report to the operator.

“Hey, get off him!” Curtis yelled as a guy holding up a bloody man against the wall came into view. Without thinking, Curtis grabbed the attacker by the collar of his tacky shirt and pulled him off the other man.

It all happened so fast, the assailant reeled back from Curtis and swung an arm at him. Curtis jumped back as a flash of silverslashed the air between them. The voice of the 911 operator came through over the speakerphone, asking what was going on.

“Back off!” the guy warned with his arm jutted toward Curtis.

Curtis’ eyes zeroed in on the pointy knife dripping with blood in the other man’s hand and instinctively put his hands up in a defensive stance while backing up to put distance between them.

“Easy!” Curtis tried to calm the situation.

He’s barely a man.

Gone was the bravado Curtis had heard in the younger man’s voice earlier. Panic filled his eyes as he took in Curtis, who towered over most people.

“Sir! I’m sending responders to your location right now,” the operator’s voice rang loudly between them. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“Fucking hang up!” The attacker shook his knife hand at Curtis.

“Put the knife down,” Curtis urged in a steady voice.

“Hang up the phone!”

“Sure, I’ll hang up.” Curtis made a show of lifting his phone as if he was about to disconnect the call, but with a swipe of his thumb, he snapped a picture and turned on the video recording instead. Adrenaline surged through him as he racked his brain for ways to give hints to the operator about their location. “But you know the police will storm this stairwell through that emergency exit any minute, so you better put the knife down.”

“Shut up! Fucking shut up!”

“Kid, I don’t want any trouble, okay?” Curtis sidestepped toward the unmoving man who had slid down the wall and crumpled on the ground. Blood was pooling underneath him. “Shit. Did you knife him?”

“Fuck you!”

The operator, thankfully, got the silent memo and stayed quiet. Curtis hoped she was sending an ambulance, too, and thathelp would get there ASAP. As if on cue, the blare of sirens came from a distance.

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