Hellion, a New Adult Romance Novel (The Rebel Series) (34 page)

The molester finally comes to the realization that Colin isn’t leaving. He breaks his gaze away from Alissa and looks right at him.
 
“Dude, do you mind?
 
I’m trying to have a conversation here.”
 
He gestures with his bottle at Alissa.

“Yeah, actually, I do mind.”
 
Colin’s arms swing gently at his sides.
 
I see it for the preparedness that it is.
 
He could throw a spleen-crushing punch in a split second if necessary.
 
I breathe easier for the first time in many minutes.

Alissa looks up at him, her chin going out and her eyes getting all squinty.

Fuck! She’s going to blow everything!
 
I rush over to diffuse her anger.
 
“Hey!
 
Alissa!
 
Look!
 
Your juice is almost gone!”

She looks at me and then her glass, some of her anger being replaced by confusion.
 
“So?”

“So, your blood sugar.
 
It’s low.
 
That’s not good, you know what the doctor said.”

“Quin, I’m fine.”

“Come to the bathroom with me.”
 
I cross my legs to look convincing.
 
I do my eyes too just to be sure.
 
She’s a drama chick and all, so I have to give her the works.

“No,
 
I don’t have to go.”

“But
I
do.”
 
I take her by the arm and drag her with me.
 
“Be right back!” I say, over my shoulder.

“Why are you doing this?
 
I was just talking to him,” she says.

I stop when we’re far enough away that he won’t take it as an invitation to follow us.
 
“I am saving you from being molested by a complete and total loser, Alissa.
 
Trust me, you do not want to encourage him.”

“I’m a grown woman, Quin. I can take care of myself.”
 
She jerks her arm away from me and backs up.

“You are a total dipshit, actually, and I am not going to be responsible for you losing your baby.”
 
The words are out before I can stop them.
 
Oopsy
.

Her face goes mutinous.
 
“You’re despicable.”
 
She turns around and leaves me there.
 
And now I really do have to go pee.

“Fine!” I yell at her back.
 
“I’ll go to the bathroom
myself!
”

I grumble all the way in there, locking myself in the farthest stall from the door.
 
This place smells like ass, and I can’t stand to do anything but quickly pee standing up before I’m ready to run out again.
 
But voices come in along with a burst of loud music, and they’re giggling.

I pause with my finger over the lock.

“OMG, he is
so
cute.
 
Did you see his eyes?!”

Another voice chimes in.
 
“Did you see his tattoos?
 
Oh my god, when he lifted his shirt and showed us that
heart
over his
heart
?”
 
She pauses to gasp.
 
“I almost had an orgasm.
 
Right there in my chair, I swear to god.”

“Roxanne, you are bad,” the other voice says.
 
“What’s his name again?”

“Mick, he said.”
 
She sighs like a little girl in love. “Mick. Could he be any sexier?
 
No, I don’t think so.”

My face goes red.
 
She’s talking about
my
Mick.
 
She desperately wants her face slapped and she doesn’t even know it.
 
I lean my forehead on the door to try and collect myself.
 
He’s doing recon.
 
He’s helping Teagan.
 
He’s doing exactly what I asked him to do.
 
Do not get jealous, idiot.

“I’m going to take him into the corner and give him a little somethin’-somethin’,” the lovestruck girl says.

Roxanne
.
 
I hate that name.
 
I’m going to end this now.
 
I’m going to go out there and tell her all about herself and explain how my Mick wants nothing to do with her and how she doesn’t have a single chance in hell at getting him into any dark corners.
 
He’s mine, mine, all mine and nobody else’s.

I lift my head off the cold steel door.
 
It’s silent in the bathroom.
 
I strain to hear sounds of the faucet running or girls planning sexy time in the corners of the club, but there’s nothing and no one there.

“Shit!” I fumble with the door, trying to get it open.
 
It won’t budge.
 
“No, no, no, no, noooo!” I whine, wiggling the metal until a piece falls off in my hand.

My mouth gapes open.
 
“Holy shit, no!
 
This is not happening!”
 
I jiggle the piece that remains on the door, trying to fit the broken piece back in.
 
The rest of the lock falls out and hits the floor, rolling off into the nearby stall.

I grab the top of the stall door and jump, trying to see over the edge of it. Total fail.

“Dammit!
 
Too short!” Curse my defective DNA!
 
I can’t see!
 
Where did they go?!
 
Is she putting her hands in Mick’s pants while I hang out with the stink-ass toilet seat?
 
“Help me!” I yell.
 
“Someone open the door!
 
I’m locked in this shit hole!”

No one can hear my cries for rescue over the sound of the music and happy crowd.

I grab my purse from my shoulder and fish around for my phone.
 
I want to cry when I come up empty.
 
“Dammit!
 
It’s in the car!”
 
My voice has gone up into another octave.
 
I cannot believe I am trapped in a bathroom that smells like sweaty construction worker asscrack while a ho-bag in a polyester mini-skirt steals my man.

I bang on the door over and over, giving it a couple good punches too while I’m at it.
 
All it does is shake in its frame. I’m still stuck. Powerless.
 
Trapped.

I look down at the floor.
 
The space under the door beckons.
 
I chew on my bottom lip as I survey the situation.
 
If I squeeze myself pretty flat, I could probably get under it.

“Oh, God, oh, God, oh God.”
 
I
really
don’t want to do this.
 
The floor is beyond dirty.
 
I don’t even know what color the tiles are supposed to be, but they’re gray right now.
 
There are smears.
 
There are things.
 
I don’t even know
what
things, but there are
things
.
 
Viruses for sure.
 
Germs.
 
Things worse than germs.
 
Smells …
ugh
.
 
I can’t.
 
I can’t.

Laughter comes through the door.
 
I picture the girl in the mini-skirt dropping her head back to laugh at something witty Mick has said and him leaning forward and kissing her throat.

“Wait!
 
Mick!
 
Don’t do it! I’m coming!” I yell, just before I drop down onto my knees in the stall.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

I’M HALFWAY OUT OF THE stall on my belly, feeling like a total dirty toilet-snake slithering around, when the bathroom door opens and the loud sounds of the crowd and the music come blasting in.

I look up at an amazonian woman wearing heels and jeans standing not very far from my face.
 
She looks familiar, and I’m pretty sure it’s because she’s a supermodel who dates George Clooney.

“Uhhh …”
 
I try to play off the fact that I’m wallowing in strip club toilet stink at her feet.
 
“Heh, heh.
 
Hi.”

She lifts an eyebrow and stares at me.
 
I’m immediately impressed with her skills.
 
And I thought I was awesome at speaking without talking.
 
She’s like an eyebrow ninja or something.
 
I wonder if they taught her that in supermodel school.

“Do you need some help?” she asks, coming a step closer.

“Yeah,” I say, pressing my palms into the floor.
 
I’m going to sterilize them with fire later.
 
“The lock broke while I was inside.”

She bends in half and puts her hand down where I can reach it.

I cringe.
 
“I’m not sure you want to touch my hand right now,” I say, hesitating as I lift my fingers off the floor a little.

“Trust me, everything washes off with a little soap and water.”

I lean on her strength and work my way the rest of the distance past the door and stand.
 
I let her go when I’m sure I won’t fall.
 
We walk over to the sinks together and turn the water on side-by-side.

“Thanks,” I say.
 
“That was very cool of you.”

“Don’t mention it.”
 
She loads up with soap from the dispenser and washes her hands as she looks in the mirror.

“It’s flawless,” I say, smiling as I take in her reflection.
 
“No need to worry.”

She glances at me before going back to her hands.
 
“What’s flawless?”

“Your face.
 
Your hair.
 
Everything.” Okay, I’m fan-girling right now and I don’t even know who she is.
 
I’ve never been around someone this pretty before, though, so I can’t be blamed for my stupidity.
 
If she wants to date me, I might say yes.
 
She has that much power.
 
I’m just not sure how I’m going to get around her girl parts, though.
 
Those will be a problem.

She gets a sour look on her face and goes back to the water without responding.

“Did I say something wrong?” I ask, shutting off the faucet in front of me.
 
I’ve left a layer of skin in the sink with all my scrubbing, but I’m not complaining.
 
I’ll have to burn my clothes later.

“No, it’s fine.
 
Thanks.”

“Do you not like it when people say nice things to you?”
 
I’m standing there, kind of stunned by the idea of hating compliments.
 
I could take a bath in them and never get tired of it.

She sighs heavily and then leans on the sink, drying her hands with a paper towel.
 
“I hear it all the time.
 
It gets old.
 
I’d rather people just ignore it
and
me sometimes.”

Recognition dawns when she faces me more fully.
 
“You’re the stripper!”
 
I point at her, like she’s a freak animal at the zoo.
 
I can’t help it.
 
“You were awesome!”

Her smile isn’t very happy.
 
“Yes.
 
I’m the stripper.”

My face falls.
 
“I’m sorry.
 
That was shitty.
 
I’m an asshole.”
 
I look at the door. Escape looks pretty good about now.

“Don’t worry about it.
 
Thanks for coming to the show.”
 
She turns around to leave and I follow behind, hoping I can ease some of the sting of my earlier words.

“Do you make a lot of money doing something like this?
 
Is that why you came from Florida?”
Oh, yeah, Quin.
 
That was way better.
 
Why don’t you ask her if she turns tricks on the side too while you’re at it?

“Yes, I do make good money and I have friends out here.
 
But I don’t recommend this line of business if that’s why you’re asking.”
 
She opens the door and the sounds are back.
 
“Have fun.”

“I wasn’t asking for that reason.
 
Not really.
 
But thanks for the advice!” I watch her perfectly-shaped butt leave the stink-hole of a bathroom and disappear into the crowd.
 
Man.
 
If I could have a butt like that and the eyebrows I was born with … even George Clooney would be mine.

As my eyes adjust to the darkness again, I suddenly remember what was so awful in my life that I had to climb through sludge to get to it.
 
Mick!
 
Crap!
 
Where is he?

There’s a group of people dancing off to the side of the stage that draws my gaze.
 
I didn’t know that anyone but girls about to take their clothes off danced at strip clubs.
 
And then I recognize the mini skirt.

Ugh
.
 
All of the office girls and possibly a few others that got caught up in the action are now dancing around Mick.
 
He’s in the middle, somehow managing to groove with every single one of them at the same time.

My heart starts to burn and I feel nauseas.
 
Ow
.
 
I rub my chest a bit.
 
Jealousy is painful.

I’m standing sucking my cheeks in and contemplating my next move when Alissa appears at my side.
 
Colin is a few paces behind her.

“Where have you been?” she asks, annoyed.

I look at her as my fishy-face falls back into normalness.
 
Jealousy moves over for annoyance.
 
“Stuck in the bathroom, thank you very much.
 
You totally abandoned me and I got locked inside.”
 
I go back to staring at Mick.
 
I can’t stop drooling over his easy moves as he turns and dips and bobs with the rhythm of the music and twelve bouncy, barely-contained boobs.