I go as fast as I can down the fire escape, the metallic stairs creaking and groaning as I run down.
The moment my heels hit the concrete, I look over my shoulder as two men holding revolvers look down the fire escape. They’re not wearing any uniforms, but they sure as hell seem hell bent on getting their hands on me.
Gritting my teeth, I start to run as fast as I can, my heels clicking on the floor like the maddening tick of a clock, time is running out, Destiny, that repeating sound seems to say.
I turn a corner and then I keep running, pushing my body to the limit as my lungs seem to scream inside of my body. Stopping only to take my heels off, I dash down Broadway like a madwoman, and then turn another corner, step into an alley and crouch behind a car.
My heart seems to be climbing up my throat as heavy footsteps close in on me, but then the men keep on running down the street, still chasing me.
“Jesus Christ,” I sigh, putting my heels back on and standing up.
Yeah, I bet I looked pretty strange, huh?
Although, this is New York City. I bet no one even batted an eye to me running around dressed the way I am with my heels. Probably just another day in Gotham, huh, babe?
I look down the street, over the top of the parked car, and a feeling of sadness and despair takes over me. Regular uniformed cops are stretching yellow lines around the Dirty Destiny’s entrance, and every single one of my customers is being hauled out in handcuffs. I recognize a few of my girls, the cops dragging them out in the street as if they were cattle, some of them wearing nothing but a thong and a bra.
Anger replaces the sadness inside of me, and I ball my hands into fists.
My club, everything I’ve worked so hard for, is fucking gone.
Taken away from me in an instant. And all because of that hideous man. That evil bastard.
But there’s something more sinister here.
Something worse.
Women are being treated like crap for liking sex.
It’s the age old fucking double standard.
I think about Austin, and worry washes over me; what if Lester caught him?
I can’t even begin to think about it. I’m still not sure why Lester is so preoccupied with Python, but if he went this far, leveraging all his power to bring me down… God, please, let Austin escape.
So that whatever he’s doing can continue.
That’s right, babe.
I believe him.
He may not be telling me the whole story, but remember how I said I was a good judge of character?
I believe him.
I remember that dirty grin on Lester’s face, the look of satisfaction as he saw me standing over the balcony, and rage flares up inside of me once more. I don’t think I have ever been this angry before. I don’t care how long it takes, or how much it’s going to cost. Lester is not walking away from this scott fucking free.
Whatever it takes, I’m going to bring that motherfucker down.
“There you are, you nasty bitch,” I hear someone say right behind me. I turn on my heels and find the two men that were chasing after me. They must have creeped their way up the alley, and now they have pinned me between them and the car I was hiding behind. I look from one side to the other, but there’s no escape possible. I can’t run, and I can’t fight… and they know it.
15
Austin
Dirty Destiny looks like a fucking war zone right now. It should probably be called Battlefield. People are shouting and screaming, and the cops are rounding up everyone they can lay their hands on.
NYPD that’s storming up the place are wearing tactical uniforms, and I have to wonder what the hell happened for a raid like this to do down in here. I mean it’s a fucking strip club. They’re making it look like a haven for fucking ISIS.