Standing in the Shadows (McClouds & Friends #2)(98)

Erin pushed her way into the crowded room, and Barbara followed close behind. The room was shrill with high-pitched voices. Brilliant light from the banks of makeup mirrors made Erin's eyes water. The smell of powder, hairspray, and cosmetics was heavy in the air.

She caught sight of Cindy in the back of the room. She was sitting on the floor with her knees drawn up to her chest. Her eyes looked dazed, and her mouth swollen and blurred. She was dressed in only a tank top and panties. A sharp-faced blond girl was bending over her, saying something to which Cindy was shaking her head.

"Cindy?" Erin called out.

Cindy struggled to her feet. "Erin? Mom?"

Cindy stumbled toward them and threw herself into her mother's arms, almost knocking her over backwards, and burst into noisy tears. The blond girl sidled past them and ran out of the room.

Oh, God. Now Mom was sobbing, too. As always, it was up to her to be the practical one. She was keenly aware of the men waiting out in the corridor for them, and the malevolent Billy lurking out there in the dark somewhere. "Cin? Help me out here! Where are your clothes, hon?"

Cindy looked around, glassy-eyed. "Um, I don't know."

A muscular redheaded woman handed Erin a pair of leggings. "Put these on her," she said. "I'm Sable. I'm the one who called that guy Sean, who was looking for Billy. Is that girl your friend?"

"She's my sister," Erin said. "Cin? Your shoes? Any idea where you put them?"

"I'm real glad you guys came to get her," Sable said. "She is, like, in orbit. I don't know what Billy's got her on, but she's not together enough to perform. No f*ckin' way. She can't even stay on her feet, let alone dance. It is, like, incredibly unprofessional!"

"You are absolutely right," Erin agreed hastily. "And I'll be sure to tell her that you said so. Look, I have to find her some shoes—"

"Make sure she drinks a lot of water before she passes out," Sable advised. "And keep her away from Billy. He is pure, toxic scum." She thrust a pair of battered cloth slippers into Erin's hands.

"I will. Thanks a lot, Sable. You've been really kind to help—"

"Hurry. Go. Get her the hell out of here before there's trouble."

Cindy allowed herself to be dressed in the leggings and slippers, as unresisting as a doll. They hustled her out into the corridor. Miles took off his black frock coat and wrapped it around her, and the dusty black hem dragged on the ground behind her like a train. His dark eyes were fierce with anger behind his round glasses. "He hit you," he said.

Cindy squinted, stumbled, and finally focused on him. "Miles? Is that you? What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you. That bastard hit your face," he said. "He dies."

Cindy lifted her fingers to her mouth. "Oh. Yeah. I'm all right, though," she said faintly. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

"He dies," Miles repeated.

The three men formed a protective triangle around them as they pushed the shuffling Cindy through the crowded room. No one protested, no one barred their way. Erin held her breath and crossed her fingers. Out the door… sudden quiet and a blast of cool, bracing oxygen. Now just the length of the parking lot, and they were home free.

The door of the club swung open, and music blasted out. "Hey! You guys! Where the f*ck do you think you're going with that girl?"

"Oh, thank God," Sean murmured. "Finally, some action."

Connor pressed his keys into Erin's hand. "Get your mom and sister into the car. Quick. We need to have a talk with that guy."

"But you—"

"Get them into that car and start it up. Now."

His tone left no room for argument. She bundled Mom and Cindy into the backseat, slammed the door shut, and leaped into the driver's side. Cindy sobbed in Mom's arms, and Mom was crooning comforting sounds. Neither of them seemed even remotely aware of the dangerous drama unfolding outside. She started up the car. Connor's phone was lying on the seat. She snatched it up and clutched it like a weapon.

Her heart beat so hard, it was about to burst out of her chest.



* * *





Chapter Eighteen





Billy Vega swaggered out of the doorway. Connor drew a mental sigh of relief. He was a tall, dark guy, well dressed, with florid, sensual good looks and a gym rat's body: thick through the upper body, rigid through the midsection, overdeveloped shoulders hunched over, hammy fists dangling like an ape. No worries.

The blond girl who had pushed past them in the corridor darted out the door after Billy. More guys filed out, arraying themselves behind Billy: five, six, seven, eight… nine of them in all, counting Billy. With Sean at his side, the odds were still OK if nobody pulled a gun. He really, really didn't want to involve the gun, since that often necessitated shooting the gun, which was a f*cking dangerous mess. He was still hoping to fly below the radar with this thing, but if bullets started to zing, he could kiss that fond hope goodbye.

He hefted the cane and wished that Davy or Seth were there.

"That girl was with me," Vega said. "Who the f*ck are you guys?"

Sean nudged him. "Got any preference as to how we handle this?"