Page 7 of Steel

I disappear into the crowd and head toward the hallway behind the bar, pretending to look for the bathroom.

Pulling out my phone, I check the time, and my hands are shaking. I’ve been gone for a little over an hour, which means I only have one more before things go sideways. All I can do now is hope they keep their word if I get them what they’re looking for.

I lock my phone screen and spot a speck of blood on my hand. My fingers shake as I wipe it away, and my eyes burn from the tears I’ve been holding back.

Don’t think about it.

You can do this.

For him, you’ll keep it together.

I pass the bathroom and continue down the dim hallway, trying to remember the directions the men gave me. My head is in a fog, and even completely sober, I can barely see straight.

Around the bar.

Past the bathrooms.

Last door on the left.

Was it the left, or was it the right?

I’m pretty sure they said left, so I pause with my hand on the handle.

So long as no one is in here, I’ll be fine. The party is enough of a distraction to prevent anyone from noticing. All I have to do is find one little thing. Something they don’t even know is there. No one will miss it.

The floor creaks behind me, and I glance over my shoulder, breathing out a sigh of relief to find the hallway still empty.

Get in and get out.

I need to stop wasting time.

Pushing the door open, I’m met with a dark room, and I’m relieved to find it empty.

The curtains are wide open, letting in the moonlight, so there’s enough to see around without having to flip on the light switch and risk drawing more attention to myself. Slipping inside, I shut the door behind me.

It’s neater than I expected. Besides the unmade bed and a small pile of clothes on the floor, everything seems in its place.

Hanging on the wall behind the bed is a large iron work of art with the Twisted Kings logo branded into it. The dark eyes of the skull watch me as I step deeper into the room.

There’s a pack of cigarettes on the dresser and some change sitting beside it. Everything seems too fresh and recently touched. Nothing about this room feels like my father could have once lived here, but there’s only one way to find out.

I hurry over to the door that leads to the bathroom and crouch down, feeling for any give in the panel beside the doorframe. They said that all I have to do is push it once to release the latch, and then it will open to reveal my dad’s secret hiding place.

I push once. Twice. Nothing moves.

Shit.

I must be in the wrong room.

My hair shifts with a faint breeze, and my skin prickles as the door to the room swings open.

“What do we have here?”

I jump, spinning around as a man closes in on me.

He’s too fast, and it’s too dark to get a good look at him as my instincts kick into gear. Between six months of self-defense classes and a year working behind a bar, I know how to handle myself. And the same reflexes that help me fend off drunks and perverts serve me well now.

The man reaches for me, and I duck, barely slipping away. I kick him in the shin and then crouch down to avoid his other hand.

---