Dangerous Lovers (81 page)

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably as he watched her hips move with the music. Her ample breasts bounced in the barely concealing corset she wore, teasing the men who watched. Ludwig was silent beside him. This whole situation had come as quite a surprise to Roman. He knew Ludwig was aware of Charlotte’s sister’s location, but he had never shared it with him. When he suggested they come here, Roman hadn’t really thought anything of it. Everyone knew of the Red Lounge, so he assumed his friend and leader just wanted to relax and have fun for the night.

But as soon as his eyes met hers, he knew. And then Ludwig had asked about her father and suddenly Roman could taste the danger in the air. Thankfully he didn’t think the girl knew her father’s whereabouts. That might have just saved her life – for now at least. They sat in the dark room on the upper floors of the Red Lounge, watching the two girls sing and dance together, and he found himself completely mesmerized.

Ludwig leaned over then, voice lowered, his eyes never leaving the girls. “What do you think?”

Breathtaking, he said inwardly, knowing that wasn’t what his friend was asking for. “I think she’s telling the truth,” Roman answered. As he listened to her sing he wondered if Lottey could sing as well. He’d never heard her, but perhaps she could and he just didn’t know it.

“Hmmm,” Ludwig hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps you’re correct. To be safe, I want her watched. If her father is alive, there’s no way he’d stay away from his only living relative.”

“As far as he knows,” Roman added.

“As far as he knows,” Ludwig said, sitting back in his chair. They watched the girls until the song ended. Their skin glistened with sweat. Roman looked at it, a variety of thoughts and ideas swimming through his brain that he tried to push away. There was no way he could have her. Not just because she was Lottey’s sister, but because she was Douglas Hatcher’s daughter. That was a whole lot of trouble he wasn’t prepared to deal with.

“Do you think she has talents like Dinah?” Ludwig leaned over again to ask.

“Oh, she has talents,” Roman murmured, “but definitely not those kinds.”

They laughed together, and Roman caught the frightened look on the girls’ faces as they waited on stage. Ludwig stood, clapping his hands slowly while Roman remained seated, his heated gaze only on Bridgette. He could care less for the other girl.

“Please,” Ludwig said with a smile. “Do another for us. I think my men and I deserve it.”

The soldiers banged their glasses encouragingly on the tops of the tables, and the two girls nodded in acquiescence. He shifted again in his seat. He was going to need a long, cold shower when he got home.

Bridgette pulled off her lashes carefully, her hands still shaking from tonight’s performance. Donna had been waiting anxiously outside the room when they were done. Never once had Bridgette felt like yelling at her boss, but tonight was an exception. Before either of them could speak, Donna was apologizing profusely. Bridgette sat at her dressing table now, wiping off the last of her make-up. Sebastian came to stand behind her. She could see his sympathetic look in the mirror.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly.

“I know you are, darling,” he said. “I would never suggest otherwise. Just wanted to see if you needed someone to escort you home.”

She gave him a bland look in the mirror. “I live a block away, Sebastian,” she pointed out.

“I know,” he smiled sheepishly. “I just know who was here tonight and thought maybe you’re a little more on edge than normal.”

He had a point. She looked around, noticing most of the girls had left for the night, and suddenly she did feel a little edgy. “On second thought, yeah I’ll take that escort. Let me just change into my jeans.”

“No problem, darling. I’ll be waiting for you out by the bar.”

Bridgette dragged her feet up the stairs to her third story apartment. She felt a little like a vampire sometimes, sleeping all day and working all night. Not that she was missing much during the day, since the city was in ruins. Well, not in the upper sections, but she stood out like a sore thumb up there. She felt much more comfortable in the ghettos, even if they were broken down and dirty. Some life, she thought bitterly. Having a comfortable, loving home was a distant memory. If she didn’t know any better, she would have said her life prior to the war was nothing but a dream, a figment of her imagination. But she remembered them too clearly for it all not to have been real. Her family. If only she had been there.

No, don’t start that again, she chided herself. If she had been home she’d be dead now too. Regrets got you nowhere. She climbed the last step and stumbled down the creaky hall in fatigue, trying her best to step on all the spots she knew were quieter. Next to her apartment lived a young woman named Karen with two children, ages two and three. Their father was hardly around and she knew how tough it was on her. The last thing Bridgette needed was to wake them up at three in the morning.

She balanced her many bags awkwardly on her shoulder as she reached into her pocket to find her keys. As soon as she was inside, she decided, she was having a hot shower and sleeping for the next twelve hours straight. Not even a city bombing would be able to rouse her. Quickly entering her place, she turned to lock all four deadbolts on the door.

“Good morning!”

Bridgette screamed, turning around with her hand gripping her chest. She knew the voice, of course, she just hadn’t expected to hear it in her apartment!

“Jesus, McKay! What the heck are you doing here?”

He sat on the arm of her couch, his feet lazily crossed at the ankle. It looked like he had been patiently waiting there all night. Instead of answering, he said, “your apartment is ridiculously easy to get into.”

Her mouth fell open. “So you decided to break in?”

“How else was I supposed to show you how easy it was?” he asked as if it were clearly obvious.

“Uh, I don’t know. How about just letting me know to beef up the locks? Not
break in
at three in the morning and give me God damn heart attack!”

He looked at her like she was crazy. “You would have never believed me if I just said it.”

Bridgette pinched the bridge of her nose, setting her bags down on the counter in her tiny kitchen. “What are you doing here, McKay?” she asked tiredly.

He smiled, knowing full well the argument was over. The two of them had been friends since they were ten, and as hard as she might try, Bridgette could never find it in her to stay mad at him for long. He stood up, walking over to join her in the kitchen. She noticed he had shaved his head again, his dark blonde hair now just a short fuzz on his head. His jaw was clean shaven, and he wore faded jeans with a tight t-shirt that showcased tattoos covering both his arms. She could barely see the colour of his eyes in the dim lighting, but she knew them as if they were her own, a clear green like summer grass. Pete McKay, or just McKay as his friends called him, was probably one of the best looking guys she knew. No, wait, she corrected,
had
been…Roman Adamson was quickly rising to the top of her list. But besides the fact that he made all the girls drool, and was her closest friend, Bridgette had never felt an ounce of romantic feelings toward him.

“How was work?” he asked.

“You don’t want to know,” she replied. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here, so I can go to sleep?”

“I need you to come somewhere with me tomorrow night,” he said, turning serious.

“Oh?” she asked, eyebrows raised. It was never comforting when McKay was vague about things. Normally that meant he was up to no good. “Where would that be, exactly?”

“The Bull’s Eye.”

She laughed incredulously. “You’re kidding right?”

“I know it’s not the nicest place…”

“Not the nicest? McKay, it’s a hole in the wall. Why on earth would I go there?”

“There’s someone I need you to meet.”

Well that sounded ominous. “Does this have to do with the rebels I’ve heard you’re hanging around? Because if it does, I don’t want any part of it.”

He sighed, running his hand over his short hair. “Can you just do this for me please? It’s not like I ask you for much.”

“I’m not going to that dump. And that’s final.”

“It’s not that bad,” he argued. “I mean, you work at the Red Lounge for crying –”

“Stop right there,” she warned. “You do not want to get into this argument with me right now, Pete. I’m tired, and I want to go to sleep.”

“Geez, using my first name. You must be in a bad mood.”

She narrowed her eyes at him in response. He raised his hands defensively. “Okay, okay. I get it.” He glanced around quickly as if someone was listening. Bridgette gave him an annoyed look. “I need you to come, because it has to do with your dad.”

“My dad?”

He nodded.

“What is it with today?” she murmured.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing.” She waved him off. “Fine, I’ll see what this is all about, but I can’t go tomorrow night, I’m working.”

“What about after work?”

“Sure,” she said, giving in. “So long as it’s not at the Bull’s Eye. Meet me here instead.”

“What if you’re followed? It’s too risky.” He shook his head.

She stomped her foot, a terrible habit whenever she was really frustrated. “Why would anyone follow me?” she asked crossly.

“You never know, Bridge,” was his reply.

“Fine. You pick a place – a different place – and I will be there. Got it?”

“Yup!” He smiled, walking over to kiss her lightly on the cheek. “I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”

“Yeah, sure. Great.”

He chuckled, ruffling her hair just the way he knew she hated. “Night, Bridge!”

Then he was gone, just as quickly as he had appeared. Bridgette sighed looking at the doorway to her bathroom longingly. It was way too late now to shower. She shucked off her clothes as fast as she could and climbed into bed. The second her head hit the pillow she was out.

Chapter Four

The day had gone by slowly, much to her irritation. Dinah walked out of her room doing another mental count of the weapons she had on her. There was no such thing as being overly cautious in this day and age. She headed down the hall wondering what had happened to Ludwig all day. Normally he sent for her at least once, but she’d heard nothing. It was strange, but if anything bad had happened she would have known by now. Roman stepped out of his room as she was making her way toward the stairs. He waited outside his door for her.

“Good evening,” he said.

“Evening,” she replied. She stopped in front of him. “You ready to do this?”

“Are you?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, about two seconds away from punching that mocking smile off his face. “Watch it,” she warned.

“In a bad mood today, Lottey?”

“I will be if you don’t stop calling me that.”

The door at the far end of the hall leading to Ludwig’s quarters opened. They both turned to see a skinny girl with long, blonde hair walk out wearing hardly anything at all. Dinah’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Neither of them said a word as she made her way down the hall, head down. When she finally looked up, she noticed them. A small smile touched her face when she spotted Roman, but it instantly vanished when she noticed her. Dinah could have sworn the girl began to shake as she continued, now a little faster, toward them. They both stepped back, letting her walk past. She didn’t look at either of them again.

Dinah waited until she was out of sight before turning, questioningly, toward Roman. He shrugged. “Don’t ask me,” he said, hands raised.

She snorted, shaking her head. Like he didn’t know what that was about, she thought doubtfully. He fell into step beside her as she made her way to the stairs.

“Weapon X strikes again,” he muttered. She looked over to see him fighting off another smile.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped.

“Didn’t you see her face?” He laughed out loud now. “She was terrified of you.”

Dinah rolled her eyes, descending the stairs quickly. “Sometimes I think you can learn a thing or two from people like her.” His laughter followed her down.

She hated cars. Being locked inside a cage of metal set her on edge. Especially a large one like the SUV they were currently in. There were too many people crammed inside, she could hardly breathe. Dinah looked out the window as they drove through the upper section. It wasn’t often that she got to observe like this. Normally when she went out, if she went out, she was on her bike. Speeding down the streets on a Harley-Davidson Iron 883 didn’t give her much of an opportunity to take in her surroundings. She wished she was on her bike now, not sitting in this death trap.

“Can I ask you something?” Roman said. She turned to look at him on the other side of the bench, waiting. “Do you ever think about your father? Miss him even?”

“I think he’s a selfish prick who left his family to die for his beliefs,” she answered plainly. “So no, Roman, I don’t miss him.” She turned back to look out the window.