Page 73 of Red Hunt

“And you haven’t called or seen her?” Peaches said, his eyes wide with disbelief.

I shook my head.

“Well, better not make it five days, you hear me? Tell her as soon as we’re done here.”

“Yep,” I said, and suddenly I couldn’t wait for this whole thing to be over. Couldn’t wait to see her again, tell her how I felt, and throw myself at her mercy.

44

MILLI

The V-club was like nothing I’d ever seen, been in, or even thought would exist in Whitebrook. The bouncer had looked downright evil before he let us enter. For a split second, I thought I’d seen Max parked in one of the cars at the curb on the other side of the street—probably wishful thinking, but the next moment we were engulfed in people, and the bass was loud enough to jar me from the inside. Nope, Max couldn’t help me.

It took a while to adjust to the strobing light and masses of people, but it looked like a normal club to me. I felt relatively safe and invisible. Nothing bad seemed to be happening—just dancing and drinking and a lot of people having a lot of fun.

But apparently, Belinda wasn’t as satisfied with my observations. We rounded the place twice. Then stopped a short distance away from a guarded door with stairs behind it which had caught her attention. “I wonder what’s down there.”

I followed her stare, but the bear of a man guarding that door looked even more menacing than the first one. I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to be home, or at Max’s, or really anywhere else safe.

But Belinda was already on the move, dragging me with her. Shit.

“Hey, sexy, want to let us through?” She smiled at him as if he was the next best thing after chocolate ice cream, though she didn’t need to put much effort into it since the guy’s eyes were glued to her breasts as if that was all there was to her.

My stomach tightened. I hated this place.

“Sorry, but it’s a private affair tonight. And I’m pretty sure you’re not on the guest list.” He grinned leerily which made my skin crawl.

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Belinda still had a saccharine smile plastered all over her face when we retreated.

Belinda took a sip from her coke and held the rum while flirting with the barkeeper.

“What an ass.” She threw a dirty look at the bouncer across the dance floor. “But whatever happens here, it happens down there. We need to get there.”

I looked at her as if she was out of her mind, my hand clutching my club soda. And she was. I wasn’t a cop. And she wasn’t here in any official capacity. And whatever was down there, I was already scared shitless enough to not want to find out.

“Stay here for a moment. I’ll be with you in a second.”

With that, Belinda escaped into the back and was swallowed by undulating dancers.

It took her five agonizingly long minutes before she finally came back. “Come on, found a second entry.”

We weaved through the dancers toward the toilets. She suddenly made a sharp left, ducked under the bar, and dragged me behind her, her grip on my forearm like a vise. We stayed low, the barkeeper on the other end of the bar busy serving drinks, and within a second, we dove through an opening and escaped into the back area of the bar.

“The barkeepers are swamped,” was all Belinda said as if that was any kind of explanation, while she led me through a corridor, narrowed by boxes and crates stacked on both sides. There was a door at the end which probably was a back entrance for deliveries. But before we reached the door at the end, she opened another one and dragged me through it.

There were stairs leading up and down. But Belinda was solely focused on downstairs where pulsing beats were competing with the music from above.

“We don’t know what’s down there. But we should prepare for anything.”

Prepare for anything? What the hell? Did she confuse me with some kind of superhero? I was the wrong person for stuff like this.

Then the beats from below stopped.

45

MAX

I changed my position, shifting my weight slightly to my left butt cheek which eased the tingly sensation but not by much.

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