Page 97 of Rough Hard Fierce (Chicago Underground 1-3)
I approached cautiously and squatted in front of her. “Shelly? What’s going on?”
She lifted her face, streaked with tear tracks. “I made a mistake.”
“I know, shhh.” I tried to soothe. “Did you get ahold of Philip?”
She shook her head, and fresh tears spilled over.
“It’s okay. We’ll find them. We’ll fix this.”
“It’s too late,” she said.
“No,” I said, feeling clumsy. I wished I had a large, soft body made for comfort and the courage to give her a hug. “Whatever happens, we’ll be okay.”
I expected her to blow me off with an I’m always okay, honey, but she sniffled and wiped her face with her forearms like a child. We were too young for this. Not the skulking around at night—that was the propriety of youth. We were too young for our lives. Selling our bodies and making babies. But then again, when was anyone really ready to do those things?
It had felt like a betrayal when we’d grown up into the bodies and minds of adults but with all the cluelessness of children. Why had they—those adults—snapped at us to eat our vegetables and do our homework as if it mattered? When Shelly lay down and spread her legs, it sure as shit didn’t matter. And what could I teach Bailey about this world? Nothing I wanted her to know.
I pulled Shelly from the car and towed her behind me, looking for the right gray box. She followed, docile. Little girls do what we’re told. We learned that lesson early. Little boys pull our hair and run away, but only a tattletale tells.
This building was barren like all the rest, the rectangular gray walls cutouts against the dark. The door was just a regular door, undersized compared to the massive building.
There was nothing and no one. Hope thumped, that they must have changed the location or canceled the whole thing. We’d come all this way for no reason. Worried little wives…or whatever we were. I would go back home, and Colin would be there. I’d explain everything. Colin would be angry, but at least he’d know I hadn’t betrayed him.
A rustle sounded from around the side of the warehouse. The wind lapped against my face, but there weren’t bushes or anything else to make that shuffling sound. And I doubted there were animals around here, at least of the inhuman variety.
“Go back to the car,” I told Shelly. She was almost catatonic with her quietness and downcast eyes. If something went down here, she’d get hurt.
The low murmur of voices carried on the wind.
“Go,” I hissed.
Shelly tightened her hand on mine.
The voices grew louder, and I dragged her toward the other side of the warehouse, thinking at least we’d stay out of sight. There was a long truck planted there, like one of the rigs my dad had driven. The back of the truck was rolled up, caught with its pants down, but no one was around. A stage with no actors, except for us.
I pulled us both back flat against the front of the warehouse. My instincts screamed to get us both back to my car. I would be able to breathe again when we were doing sixty on the highway, any direction that was away. But I’d come here to find Colin. What had I expected—concierge service?
I edged down the wall to the door. The handle actually turned, just like that, but perhaps when you had big enough guns, locks became superfluous.
Peeking inside the door, I saw only shadows and darkness. Nothing but a big, empty room, I told myself. Only children are afraid of the dark.
I didn’t really want to bring Shelly in with me, but I couldn’t leave her out here alone. We slipped inside.
The warehouse was cavernous, with supports and ducts protruding from the ceiling. Huge crates splayed across the floor at odd angles as if they’d drifted, glaciers. An eerie glow from the rafters lit the space.
An imaginary block of ice slid down my spine. This was all wrong. If they’d moved or canceled the drop, as I’d hoped, then there’d be no one, not even the voices I heard around the side. If they hadn?
??t and the drop was still here and such a big fucking deal, then there should be more people, more activity.
I heard Colin’s voice in my head. “No,” he had said in his dreams. “It’s a trap.”
We had to get out of here. At the very least I should bundle Shelly up in her car and send her off, assuming she was good to drive. As selfish as it felt, I decided to get out of there. I would have to hope Colin could take care of himself. I had Shelly to worry about now.
I turned back to the door as it swung shut. It was just the wind, had to be.
I put my hand on the knob. It didn’t turn. I jiggled it again, then yanked, then banged, but the door stayed shut. It was locked—someone was out there.
I stared at the door, breathing heavily.
