Shooter (Burnout) (5 page)

"Does Shooter have a big gun?" Hawk asked sarcastically. "I bet mine's bigger." He made to stand. "How about I give Slick a ride? Then I'll give her a ride."

Chris shoved his friend back into his chair with a grin. He headed to the corner of the bar next to the swinging door and waited. And waited. And waited. Finally he shoved off the bar and stepped through the door into the kitchen. Thomas was there, manning the grill.

"Where's Slick?"

Thomas looked over his shoulder at Chris. "Who?"

Chris sighed. "Hayley. Where's Hayley?"

Thomas continued to look confused. Chris rolled his eyes and held up his hand. "Brown hair. Bambi eyes. Yay big. Weighs a buck. Is unaware she has tits."

Thomas laughed. "Oh, yeah. Left."

Chris’ eyebrows knitted together. "What do you mean she left?"

"She's off shift. Done at midnight. Maria didn’t want to make her close on account of she was nice enough to fill in in the first place."

Chris looked back at the swinging door and then once again at Thomas. "How the fuck she manage that?"

"Left through the back," Thomas informed him, his attention returning to the burger that was in danger of becoming a boot.

"Fuck," Chris mumbled, shoving past Thomas and making it to the rear door of the bar in four long strides. He flung it open, stepped out, and looked around. Not finding Hayley, he stepped back into the kitchen and slammed the door. He stormed out the swinging door.

The boys, having seen him leaving sans Hayley and registering the look on his face as he stomped out, got up to follow him. No chance would they miss an opportunity to rag on him about being rejected by a sassy little nothing of a girl.

"Shooter," Doc called, laughter in his voice.

"Shooter got shot down!" Hawk cackled.

Chris shook his head and threw his leg over his ride. "Didn't shoot me down. She left."

Doc stopped laughing. "Left?"

"Out the back door. Into the alley."

"Shit," Doc grumbled, making his way to his own bike.

The four of them roared off down the street toward the Rainbow motel. Chris was seriously considering spanking Slick's ass when he got hold of her, even though that was normallyTex’s purview. What the fuck was she thinking walking back in the dark? Goddamn woman didn't have a lick of sense.

As they cruised, his anger was slowly turning to an unsettling feeling that he would not name fear, but was too close to it to be comfortable. They should have come upon her by now. Alone, carrying that large duffel, she should not, could not, have gotten even this far. Not on foot.

He pulled into the Rainbow's dark-ass parking lot and killed his engine. Without waiting for the others, he stepped off the bike and headed straight for the Office.

Doc flashed his badge and they were told Slick's room number. Chris barely waited for the night clerk to finish rattling off the numbers. He took the stairs to the second level two at a time and arrived at her door within seconds. He knocked. Loudly.

He was sure it was useless. She couldn't have made it six blocks in that amount of time. God damn her!

When there was no answer, he tried again. Banging on the door with his fist. "Slick!" he bellowed. "Open this fucking door if you're in there!"

Shockingly, he heard her voice from beyond the door. "Mr. Sullivan?"

"Jesus Christ," Doc said in relief. Hawk and Tex visibly relaxed.

"What- what are you doing here?" she called out.

"Open this door. Now," Chris demanded.

She hesitated. "Mr. Sullivan, it's late and-"

"Slick. I swear to fucking Christ above if you don't open this door and let me get a look at you, I will break it the fuck down."

***************************

Hayley jerked back from the door at his words. She checked the peephole again, and again saw all three of Shooter's companions standing with him. What the fuck was going on? And there was no way in hell she was letting them in. She looked around, upset that she had only arrived back at the room minutes before and had not had time to pull the dresser in front of the door.

Biting her lip, she took a deep breath. "You need to leave. All of you."

Shooter muttered something she couldn't quite make out and suddenly there was a strange tapping on the door. It sounded like metal. A scream caught in her throat. A knife. He had a knife. And he was here for her.

"Hayley," another, calmer voice, stated firmly. One she didn't recognize. "Look through the peephole again, sweetie."

Hayley stood frozen for a moment then slowly, reluctantly, leaned up on her toes. The darker haired man standing next to Chris was holding up a badge. A badge. Not a knife. Better. But not by a whole hell of a lot, she decided.

Well. She hadn't done anything wrong. She'd paid for the room. She hadn't stolen anything or broken any laws other than tax evasion. She wasn't sure, but she thought maybe RCPD had better things to do than go after undocumented workers.

She pulled her hoodie tighter around her, and opened the door. "I-" she stammered. "I didn't do anything."

"Take the chain off the door," the cop requested.

Hayley frowned at him. "But-"

"Hayley," the cop said, growing impatient. "I want to see inside your room."

"Why?" she asked, confused.

"To see if you're alone."

Hayley bit her lip, shut the door, and slid the chain off the door. Shooter shoved his way in immediately. The cop followed, less agitated than his friend. The other two remained outside. Hayley stood as close to the door as she could and still be inside the room. Cop or no, she was ready to bolt.

"What the fuck was going through your head?!
" Shooter roared.

"Shooter," the cop warned.

Hayley flinched. "What?"

"I want to know what the fuck you were thinking. Who brought you here? You can’t just leave the bar with any random person," Shooter said through his teeth.

Hayley blinked at him then looked at the cop. Finding no reprieve, she looked back at Shooter. "No one brought me back. I took a cab. I only just got here."

Chris rocked back on his heels. "A cab."

She reached into her pocket and fished out the receipt. She handed it out to the cop. She really didn't need to justify herself to anyone. Especially not to Chris Sullivan, but if it made him leave faster, then she would.

The cop glanced at the receipt, set it down on the dresser and gestured for Sullivan to leave the room. "It's fine. She's fine. She took a cab."

The cop steered Shooter out the door and followed him. She stood in the doorway gaping at the four of them.

"You did the smart thing, Hayley," the cop said in what was clearly his cop voice. "Don't walk home alone. And don't accept rides from anyone in the bar. You don’t know who’s safe to go home with."

"I-" Hayley began but she was cut off by a familiar maniacal giggling. She looked down at the ratty carpet and sighed.

"Who's that?" Shooter demanded.

"I don't know," she replied.

"What the fuck is he doing standing in the walkway?" Shooter asked loudly enough for the Giggler to hear. The giggling abruptly stopped. "Slick, who is that?"

"I don't know!" she snapped, losing patience. "Just an asshole."

"An asshole," Shooter repeated, eyeing the guy. "What did he do?"

"Nothing."

"Fuck me,” he growled “Hayley," he said, his tone full of warning.

"Nothing!" she repeated. "He didn't do anything. He doesn't do anything. He just...."

"What?"

"Knocks on the door."

"Knocks on the door."

She sighed. "Late at night. When I'm trying to sleep. I'm sure he thinks it's funny."

Shooter started toward the guy, but the cop put an arm out and got ahead of him. The guy started to retreat, but the cop flashed his badge. "Sir, step out into the walkway, please."

"Why?" the Giggler snarled. "I ain't done nothing."

"Step out into the hallway." The Giggler reluctantly stepped out. "Are you harassing this woman?"

"What? Fuck no! I'm not harassing no one!"

"You knock on her door?"

The Giggler shrugged. "Sheeit. Maybe once."

"Once?"

"Maybe twice. A man can ask, right? That's still allowed."

The cop pulled himself up to his full height. Even out of a uniform, he looked positively lethal in his black jeans and tight fitting black t-shirt. "Just so we're on the same page. You knocked on this woman's door. Twice. In the middle of the night. Propositioning her for sex."

"It's just a joke," the Giggler protested. "Like she said. I was just being..."

"Neighborly?" the cop suggested.

Shooter took a menacing step forward. As though he sensed he might lose control of the situation, the cop took the Giggler by the arm and gently steered him further back from his angry friend. "Sir. I'm going to need to see your identification."

The Giggler glared at the cop. "But I ain't done nothin'!"

"If that's true then it'll just take a second."

The Giggler reluctantly pulled out his wallet and handed the cop his I.D. The cop glanced down at it and slid his cell phone out of his jeans pocket.

"What- what are you doin'?" the Giggler asked.

The cop held up a single finger. He spoke quietly into the phone, relaying the Giggler's personal info. Then he looked up at the Giggler sharply.

"Sheeit," the giggler muttered.

*************************

Ten minutes later the Giggler was handcuffed by an on duty patrolman and pushed into the backseat. He was squalling nonstop about being railroaded and the patrolman patiently explained the statute of limitations on failing to appear in court on a meth charge. For the third time.

Chris was planted a few feet from the squad car, near his bike. Occasionally he glanced up to Slick's room. She'd bolted herself inside fairly early on but he could see the curtains twitch every so often.

"Doc," Chris called quietly, and when Caleb turned to look, Chris jerked his chin at the squad car.

Doc sighed. It was obvious he was over this shit, but he spoke quietly to the uniformed officer then slid into the front seat of the squad car and began typing quickly on the keyboard of the cruiser's on board computer.

A few minutes later, he hauled himself out of the car, waved the officer away and sidled up to Chris, Tex, and Hawk. "She's a junkie. Busted for prostitution more than once."

"Mother fuck me," Chris growled.

Doc grinned. "Kidding," he said good-naturedly, ignoring the look from Chris that said certain death was imminent. "Hayley Crystal Turner, Hayley Turner, Crystal Turner... no such person has a criminal record within the state of South Dakota. Of course I could be more thorough with a driver's license...."

Chris had already told Doc that Slick hadn't produced one for Maria. Doc was more concerned with taking down rapists, arsonists, and murderers and had little to no interest in barmaids.

Chris, again, looked up at Hayley's window.

"Just let it go tonight," Doc said, sounding exhausted. "I'm tired. You're tired. She's tired. Asshole’s gonna cool his heels in lock-up for a good long while. Justice was served here. Let's head home."

"She's not safe here," Chris declared.

"No. No she's not. But there's nothing you can do about it tonight short of kicking her door down and carrying her to your bike." Chris looked like he was actually considering this. Doc sighed. "Don't make me arrest you. Tomorrow. Fix it tomorrow." Instead Chris headed for the stairs. “Chivalry is not a defense against kidnapping!” Doc called after him.

Chris actually agreed with Doc. It was late. It was not the time to try to convince Slick that the Rainbow was the end of the line for Rapid City’s bottom feeders. But that didn’t mean he was just going to walk away. He rapped on her door. He could practically hear her debating whether or not to open it. When she finally did, chain on the door, of course, he scowled at her. He reached behind himself and grabbed his wallet. He took out a business card for the garage and handed it to her. “Anyone else bothers you tonight, you call me.”

She bit her lip and looked at the card. “Why- why wouldn’t I just call the police?”

“Jesus, why are you busting my balls? Fine, Slick. Call the police! And when you’re done, you call me. I can get here faster.”

She glanced down at the card. “No one will bother me after this,” she said, gesturing to the squad car.

“It’s like you’re
trying
to piss me off,” he declared. “Anyone bothers-”

“Okay! I get it. I- I’ll call. If anyone bothers me. Which they won’t. But I’ll call if they do.”

Chris gave her a curt nod and walked away.