Chelsea (The Club Girl Diaries Book 2) (23 page)

“I...quit...” I spat in between gasps of air. “You’re...a...bastard.”

Deacon just smirked at me from behind the front desk as I gripped onto it for dear life. My legs felt like Jell-O. Spin classes were hard enough as it was, but being thrown in straight after running to work was like hell. My body was drenched in sweat, and stumbling over to where he was sitting had made me feel like Bambi trying to walk for the first time.

“Thought you were a runner?” he shot back sarcastically. “Where’s your endurance?”

“Screw you.” I poked my tongue out in an entirely childish way but I didn’t care.

He pushed back from the computer and walked around the desk, his smart-ass smirk turning to into a genuine smile. “You did great. I’m impressed.” The praise was warming. It felt good.

“Can I sit down now?” I asked with a laugh.

“Sure! We have another class starting in twenty minutes. How do you feel about aerobics?” He wiggled his eyebrows and I groaned.

“Great. I feel just great about it,” I mumbled as I walked off, legs still shaking under me.

Luckily for me, one of the college papers I took was in instructing. It ranged from one-on-one work to group led fitness. Some people in my class hadn’t liked the attention, but I didn’t really mind. I kind of loved the feeling of unity as you all moved together to the music. I grabbed a bottle of water from the large fridge that was next to the front desk as I passed and skulled back half of it. I loved the feeling the cold liquid as it went down my throat and settled in my stomach.

There was a small lounging area near the front door with a couple of sofas, a coffee table, and some magazines, so I dropped myself into the soft, billowy soft cushions with a satisfied sigh. The muscles in my legs screamed out
‘thank fuck for that.’
I flipped through a magazine for a while carelessly, not actually reading anything but just scanning the pages. When I saw Deacon heading for me, I groaned.

“Not yet. You said twenty minutes,” I called, holding the magazine up in front of my face. I heard him laugh and I peeked over the top. He was still coming toward me, but that’s when the world started to slow down. I swear it was like watching an action movie in slow motion.

The cocky grin melted from Deacon’s face and his hands reached out for me. He suddenly looked petrified and even as he called my name my mind still couldn’t compute what was happening and why he’d become so frantic.

That was until there was an explosion behind me and glass started to fall around me like a stunning sparkling rain. It glittered in the afternoon sunlight and scattered all over the floor. The magazine fell from my hands. I was pulled into Deacon’s arms and he dropped us both to the floor. I couldn’t breathe. I wasn’t sure if it was because Deacon’s body was plastered on top of mine, covering me almost entirely, or if it was because I was in shock. I could hear screaming and yelling, and with my body pressed against the floor I could feel the pounding of footsteps running. They were running away.

It was gunfire.

My brain finally figured it out.

There was a torrential pour of gunfire shattering the large glass windows that lined the front of the gym and pinging off the equipment. Someone was fucking shooting at us. The rain of bullets stopped momentarily and Deacon wasted no time in climbing off me and pushing me across the floor. I tried to scramble to my knees, but I was panicking and my body wouldn’t do what I was trying to tell it to.

“The locker rooms! We need to get to the locker rooms,” Deacon roared in my ear as he gave me another push, sliding me across the wooden floor. I scrambled on my hands and knees with him directly behind me. Another hail of bullets began and I screamed, curling myself into a ball and covering my head. I felt an arm hook around my waist and I was being pulled across the floor, glass and pieces of wood grating against my skin.

“Take her,” I heard Deacon yell, and I was lifted from the ground.

I jostled and jumped around as someone ran with me down the hall. The door to the locker room slammed open and I was placed gently on one of the wooden benches. I didn’t get a good look at the guy who’d thrown me there because as soon as I was dumped he shot back out the way we’d come. My body shook. It was all too real, but at the same time all I could think was that this must be a nightmare.

Living with the Brothers I’d seen my fair share of bar fights, stabbings and the occasional gun going off. But I always knew I was safe, I knew they weren’t meant for me.

This…this was meant for me.

I could feel it in my gut, and as soon as the realization hit me I ran into the toilet stall and emptied the contents of my stomach into the shiny white bowl.

They were going to get to me.

There was no one here to protect me.

I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, curled in a ball on the cold floor, but it felt like an eternity. Waiting for someone to walk in and end my life. The locker door slammed again and I wiggled my body closer to the toilet, thinking for some fucking stupid reason I might be hidden.

“Chelsea,” I heard Deacon’s voice call out to me and jumped to my feet. I leaped on him as soon and he stepped into view. “Oh, thank God.” He wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly, it was what I needed right now.

“Oh my God, Deacon. We need to get out of here!” My fingers dug into his arm, but he didn’t even flinch. “Are they gone? Someone would’ve called the police by now.”

His arms slowly released me and I stepped back. His face was stone, almost cold.

“Deacon—”

“They’re here.”

My eyes widened. “Who’s here?”

“The police.”

I felt the tension in my body slowly start to dissipate and the air whooshed out of me in relief. While I wasn’t a huge fan of the police, living with the Brothers by Blood we were always looked at with a negative eye. They often pulled us over for no reason or just made lewd comments. I knew they had their reasons to be suspicious, but some took it to another level.

“Okay,” I said, my head bobbing. “Are they outside?”

He shook his head, his eyes bearing into me. I was scared by the sudden intensity from him.

“They’re right here,” his voice croaked. “I am one.”

“You’re a what?” I choked.

“A police officer.”

I backed away from him. “No…you’re not.”

He reached out and I flinched. “Chelsea, come on. It’s just me.”

“No! It’s not just you,” I snapped, pointing my finger accusingly. “I don’t even know who you are.”

Another man who I’d seen a few times around the gym and during mine and Rose’s second failed night out, burst into the locker room and looked around frantically. “We gotta get going. They’re still sitting outside, but we can head out the back.”

“What the hell is going on, Deacon?” I demanded, shooting both him and the other guy a deep glare. He rushed forward and grabbed my hand, pulling me with him out the locker room doors and down the hallway. I tried to tug back, but he continued to drag me with him, not even looking back. I caught a glimpse of the destruction that filled the front of the gym before I was pulled the opposite way.

“Oh God. The gym was full of people, are any…” My lips shook and trembled.

“Ninety percent were my people,” he said, unable to meet my gaze. “There are a couple scrapes and bruises, nothing major—we were prepared.” My mouth just hung open as I continued to let him pull me along with him. “They waiting for us out back?” He asked his friend who jogged next to us.

“Yeah.” He pushed the double doors open and they swung wide, slamming against the side of the building and causing me to jump.

There was a black BMW parked outside with its motor running. “Get in,” Deacon yelled at me as he swung open the back door to the car.

I froze for a second.
He was the police.
I thought he’d been my friend, but he had lied. I was angry, and I was scared. Thinking about the gun shots and the way the windows of the gym had shattered, and now I was running for my life—again.

I felt my body being lifted off the ground and stuffed in the backseat of the car, but my mind was in a haze. I didn’t fight. I just let Deacon maneuver me so he could climb in behind me and slam the door shut.

The ride was fast, Deacon kept a hand on my head, holding it down and out of sight. I’d finally gathered my thoughts and was ready to turn around and rip him a new one just as we stopped. I looked up, we were outside mine and Rose’s apartment.

“No one followed us. Let’s go inside,” he said, releasing his grip on me and sliding out of the car. I sat there. “Come on, Chelsea. We’ve got to go inside before they come around. We’re sitting ducks.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I sneered, pressing my back against the door like a caged animal. “Take me to the club,” I demanded, not knowing where else I could go, but knowing I would be safe there with the brothers.

“No doubt they’re already on their way, and you and I have shit to discuss before they barge in,” he told me earnestly, leaning in the door. I tried to push myself further away from him but the door behind me suddenly opened and I fell back. Someone hooked their hands under my arms and hefted me from the vehicle. I squirmed, trying to get free but they held tight, pulling me toward the staircase that lead to the front door. Deacon followed, his face serious and stern.

I finally found my feet at the top of the stairs. “Open the door, Chelsea.”

“Fuck you, Deacon,” I spat, folding my arms across my chest.

He sighed. “Gavin, open the door.”

I heard keys rustling behind me before the door swung open and Deacon herded me inside.

“You have keys to my apartment?” I gasped.

He shrugged, closing the door behind us and walking past me into our small kitchen. “I have a job to do, it was necessary.”

Gavin moved to stand in front of the doorway, blocking any exit I had. I stared him down. He was a good looking guy, broad shoulders, trim waist, tattoos that swirled up his arms and contradicted his fancy shirt. All he did was smile at me like he was enjoying this shit.

“Chelsea, we need to talk.”

I stormed into the kitchen, throwing open a cupboard, finding a large glass and filling it with water. “I don’t have anything to say to you,” I told him as I down the whole glass in practically one gulp. “Is that why you’re here? You think I’ll tell you shit about the club just because you helped me out,” I scoffed.

He planted both hands on the table and leaned in. “Right now, I don’t give a flying fuck about the club. I give a shit about you and the fact that you need to be safe.”

I laughed. “This is a joke. Take me to the clubhouse. I’ll be safe there.”

“I’m glad you find this so funny. Hanging out with the same club that killed your parents.”

My heart stopped and the glass fell from my hand, clattering into the sink.

“What the hell did you just say?”

He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed deeply. “This is not the way I wanted to have this conversation.”

“This is not a conversation. This here is bullshit because you’re wrong,” I said pointing an angry, shaking finger at him.

He shook his head. “You know what, I wish I were. But evidence points to exactly that.”

I glared at him. Not believing it for a minute. My parents weren’t bad people and the club never went after anyone unless they were a threat to their family. “Who are you?”