Page 199 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

“Thank fuck.” I listed to the side a little as the world righted itself. “Where’s Lindsey? Miss York.”

He opened the door wider. “Mr. Nash?” He lifted a walkie-talkie of some sort. “Noah?”

The static of a reply echoed into the alley. I staggered forward. “I need to find Lindsey. Is she safe? Tell me she’s safe.” Nausea and terror fought for dominance in my gut.

I propped myself against the brick wall. The uniformed guy wrinkled his nose, but didn’t say a word. Evidently, he was well-trained because I smelled like a bar rag. “Let me inside.”

“Have you been drinking?”

“No.”

“I went to take a piss—”

“Out here?”

“No.” I ground my molars together. “I used the one a few doors down from the green room. That’s the last thing I remember.” I took a breath. “Now where the hell is Lindsey?”

Another crackle came over his walkie-talkie. “Bring him to the dressing rooms.”

Noah’s voice. Clipped and authoritative sharpened through tinny static.

I jumped at it. “Yes. Bring me there.”

The guy opened the door wider to let me pass. The hallway was teeming with suits, officers, and security. We were down by the side access door where the crew usually sneaked out for a smoke.

Noah stalked down the hall, pointing at me. “You. What the hell did you do with her?”

“What do you mean? I just woke up in the damn alley.”

Noah turned his head. “You reek.”

“No shit.” At Noah’s disgusted look, I rushed on to explain. “I’m not drunk. I don’t fucking drink.”

Noah’s gray eyes met mine. He stared for a beat then nodded. “G

et in here. Christ, what a fucking cluster.” He lifted a walkie-talkie to his mouth and barked orders.

“Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” I asked as I walked into the green room behind him.

Oz stood, his hands fisted at his sides, rage cutting grooves into his face.

“What did you do with her?” Jamie came flying at me, her blue-tipped black hair blowing forward like a cape as she plowed her fist into my face.

I staggered back into Noah and would have gone down if he hadn’t been there. His walkie-talkie clattered to the floor as he hauled me back from kissing the dingy carpet. “Fucking hell, DuCaine. Give me a goddamn minute to figure out shit before you go Mike Tyson on his ass.”

Jamie crowded into me. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know,” I bellowed at her. My tone was loud enough to make her step back.

Terror-stricken tears filled her eyes. “If you did something to her, I will kill you.”

“I just woke up in the goddamn alley. I don’t know anything. What is going on?”

“She’s gone. She went down the stage panel like always at the last song, but then she didn’t come back up for the encore.”

“No.” Pricks of icy sweat dripped down my back.

She touched my shirt and smelled her fingers. “Are you fucking serious? You’re out there on a bender while she’s who knows where?”

---