Kevin stepped back some more.
I nodded at both of them. “Okay.”
Mr. Tall quirked his brows. “What do you mean?”
I grabbed him by the arms and slung him on the ground.
Shocked, he fell into the snow. “What the fuck?!”
Mr. Beard stumbled towards me with his fists up. Like an idiot, he reached one fist back, did some sort of spinning motion, and tried to hit me.
I caught the fist and shoved him forward. He lost his balance, wagging his arms. But that didn’t stop him, he regained some form of coordination and charged for me.
I kicked his feet out from under him. Mr. Beard landed on his ass.
Somewhere in between that, Mr. Tall rose.
I faced him. He swung. I stepped right. The incoming fist zipped by several inches from my face. I slapped him for his stupidity. He swaggered to the side.
“Ah!” He came for me again. All out of control. Fists spinning around. Movements fast with no logic. All I did was give him space and let him tire himself out.
This is boring.
I punched him in the jaw.
He grunted.
With a quick blow, I smashed his elbow.
Mr. Tall fell back to the snow, holding his broken arm to him and screaming.
I glanced behind me.
Although Mr. Beard stood, he remained far off with his mouth open.
I raised my eyebrows. “Ching Chong?”
“Uh. . .” Beard’s bottom lip quivered.
“What does Ching Chong mean?”
“Uh. . .that was no disrespect. . .I just. . we’re both drunk.”
I headed his way.
“Hey, we’re leaving!” He edged back, slipped on an icy puddle, and landed on his ass.
“You should’ve left when I told you too.” I kicked him hard in the head. His eyes rolled up as he toppled sideways and lay still with his legs folded under him.
I reached down to hit him again.
Stunned, Kevin jumped in front of me. “I think we’re good now, Yo-yo.”
“Call them a cab.” I placed my hands in my pockets and studied the idiots.
Both men stayed on the ground. One groaning. The other unconscious. Both dark humps on the moonlit ice. Steam rose off them in clouds.
I went too far.
I let out a long breath. “In fact, call them an ambulance.”
Nervous, Kevin lowered and checked Mr. Beard’s pulse. “He’s alive.”
“Good. It’s too cold to dump bodies this evening.”
Kevin rose. “Thanks as always.”
“Get to your apartment.” I checked the sky. “The storm is coming.”
“Thanks, Dad, but I will after the club closes.”
I checked my watch. “That’s three hours.”
“Got to make that money.”
“Fine. Call me, if you need me.”
“Give Salt and Pepa my love.”
“Okay.” I left.
The walk across Titty Palace’s parking lot was short, but it was straight into the bitter wind. For the first few steps, the blowing ice stabbed at my face like tiny needles. After that, my face went numb.
If Harold had any sense, he would’ve closed the club down and made sure everyone headed home safely. Many of the women had kids to check on. Most of the men had families. No one needed to be in a strip club at the approach of a snowstorm.
Idiots.
I started my truck and got on the road. The shaved snow on the street was part bright white powder and part ice crystals. It shone and glittered in the moonlight, promising a dangerous ride ahead. I cursed myself for not dragging Kevin along with me.
Idiots. No one should be out tonight. Not even me.
Chapter 2
Right is Right
Ebony
Driving for two hours, we’d just left Oregon and entered Washington.
Flakes swirled around wildly in the fierce wind—microscopic nubs of snow borne on a chilly breeze. They fell and shriveled to sharp fragments, hurling themselves against the windshield and creating frozen designs. The wipers couldn’t shift them all. The blades scraped over a few.
I set the heater on defrost and waited until the blown air melted oval holes of clarity. Still, I could hardly see in front of the car. For the whole drive, I’d been staring into featureless horizontal snow for the most of it.
My back ached, probably because I had my shoulders hunched up and my body leaning into the steering wheel as if that could make us go faster.
Light flickered on the side.
I looked in the driver’s side mirror.
Headlights illuminated the fog like two glowing eyes.
Is that Wyatt?
I slowed down and let the driver pass. The car’s headlights grew brighter. For a second, the person remained slightly behind us.
No. No.
Cold terror rushed up my spine.
And then the car left our lane and passed.
My body relaxed.
Calm down. Wyatt is probably in the emergency room or something.
Another car fast approached us from behind. Again, I tensed in dread and then released the tension as the car sped away.
It’s not Wyatt. We’re far away. Stop thinking he’s close.
I checked the SUV’s speedometer. It read fifty-five miles an hour. I slowed, knowing it was too fast for all the ice on the road.