Page 5 of Blood Oath Christmas
IVY
Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!
My body, thankfully, reacts while my brain is frozen in fear. Dropping the garbage bag, I run into the club and lock the door. My heart pounds frantically, so quick and hard I’m surprised I don’t have a heart attack and die of fear right here and now.
A wave of dizziness swarms over me and for an instant, I’m afraid I’m going to faint. I can’t just stand here in the middle of the club, a target for the murderer who I know saw me and knows I saw him shoot that poor man in the head.
My eyes frantically search the area. Several tables with chairs piled on top of them from closing duties are the only things in this area. Nothing to provide a decent hiding space. There’s the hostess podium, but it doesn’t offer much cover either.
The kitchen! There may not be a lot of places to hide, but at least I can find a weapon or something to defend myself, God forbid I need to. I run into the kitchen, opening the swinging doors carefully so they won’t give away my hiding place.
Two commercial ovens, a pizza oven, the bakery counter, and another food prep counter meet my searching gaze. On thesecond counter are a couple of knife racks, knives sharpened and ready to chop veggies or saw through meat. I rush over to the table and grab one, hesitate, then grab another just in case.
Now what?
The sound of scuffling propels me into motion and I duck behind the counter.
My phone!
I left my phone on the counter earlier. Rising carefully, my wide gaze searching my surroundings, I grab my phone and duck behind the counter again. My hands are shaking so badly, it takes me three tries to call 9-1-1.
“A guy just shot another man,” I whisper urgently once an operator answers. “He’s dead, and now the guy is after me! Come quickly!”
Men’s voices are raised enough so that I can hear them, but not clear enough to understand their words outside the door. Pressing the phone to my chest, I don’t turn it off but pray they can ping my phone and realize where I am. I grip one of the knives in my hand so tightly my knuckles turn white.
My blood freezes in my veins as the unmistakable squeak of the kitchen door sounds. Someone’s coming in here! Before I can gather the courage to stand and look, a loud crash reverberates through the club and I know with a sinking heart that the murderer has just broken in through the front door.
Another round of dizziness rushes over me, but I swallow thickly and force my breathing to slow. It takes a terrifying moment to realize that there’s more than one person in the club besides me. There are at least two people fighting in the main room.
A frown pulls across my features. I’d only seen the poor guy David and his murderer, so who else could be in there? Have the police gotten here already? No, I would have heard the sirens, and they would announce themselves, wouldn’t they?
As if thinking about it makes it happen, I hear the sirens now and allow a shaky breath of hope to escape. The fighting sounds stop and suddenly, it’s so quiet inside, it’s unnerving. The murderer, and whoever he was fighting with, must have heard the sirens, too, and become spooked.
My legs are rubbery and shaking so hard, it’s difficult to stand, but I do so in slow degrees, still clutching the phone to my chest with one hand and holding one of the knives with the other. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of a small wooden figurine shaped like a bear. Where did that come from? I don’t remember seeing it earlier, but then I wasn’t exactly paying much attention to my surroundings except to look for a hiding place and a weapon to defend myself.
“Miss Andreev? Are you in here?”
I start, jerking my gaze from the figurine, and look out through the swinging door windows. I briefly spot a police officer walking in before he moves out of sight.
“Here!” I call out, then rush as fast as my weak legs will carry me into the main dining area. “I’m here.”
The officer has his gun drawn as he swings a flashlight across the room. The white beam touches over two overturned and broken tables, scattered chairs, and broken glass.
“Are you alone?” the officer asks, his eyes still darting around the room.
“I-I think so. I think they left when they heard the sirens.”
The officer meets my gaze now. “They?”
I nod and grab onto the edge of a table to keep my balance. “At least I think there was more than one. I heard what sounded like two people fighting.”
“You said you saw a man shoot another. Did you see anyone else at the time?”
I shake my head. “No, just the killer. I have no idea who the other person was. I was hiding in the kitchen and didn’t see anything when they broke in here.”
“All clear outside,” another officer announces as he walks into the club. “We’ve got a body in the alley. I’ve called the techs in.”
And still another police officer walks in, this one carrying a blanket. He walks over to me and wraps it around my shoulders. I hadn’t even realized I was shaking until the warmth of the blanket started seeping into my skin.
