Silent Deceit Read Free

them
underground?”
      “Why don’t you grow a brain and make a call
to the fire department? They’ll have everyone out of here as soon as they can
get a bus up this mountain.” Deuce eyed his bodyguard, his blood pressure spiking.
He couldn’t afford screw-ups. Not now. And the last damn thing he needed was strangers nosing around in his business. “Anyone goes down in the tunnel,
they don’t come out. That’s an order.”

  Chapter Three
      “W hat do you think you’re doing?” Natasha
laid on her back under the bar overhang feeling the rasp of Skip’s fingers
along her thigh, the stroke igniting flames in places it shouldn’t. “Take your
hands off me.”
      “Relax, bluebird,” he whispered, his
breath fanning her cheek. “I’m covering your weapon with that postage stamp you
call a skirt.”
      She glanced down at the Colt .380 as it
vanished beneath her micro-mini. He patted her knee, a smile twitching the
corners of his mouth as he rolled off her and sprang to his feet, pulling her
with him. “Rena? You okay?”
      “I’m fine, but Mitch isn’t.” Rena crawled
out after them to huddle over one of Deuce’s bouncers sprawled in a river of
alcohol, tree boughs, and smashed bottles.
      The guy was out cold, a trickle of blood
at his hairline. Natasha noticed a ring of keys attached to his belt loop. She
unclipped it and slipped it into her pocket when Skip leaned over him, helping
himself to the Sig from Mitch’s shoulder holster before checking for a pulse in
his neck. He tucked the gun at his waist beneath his shirt, hefted Mitch over a
shoulder and moved him out of the broken glass before setting him down again.
He nodded to Rena. “Take care of him. Tas, you’re with me.”
      “Wait a minute.” Natasha dug flashlights from
a drawer and handed one to Skip. “Give me the gun.”
      “Not a chance in hell.” His expression
grim, he swept his gaze over what was left of Trailblazer's . She did the
same, shivering in an icy blast of wind. Sleet blew through the bar like
confetti at a tickertape parade. Skip ignored it, focusing on a dark corner by
the pool tables; although how he could see back there, she wasn’t sure. He must
have eaten a lot of carrots as a kid, either that or his eyesight was trained—like maybe in the military? Before she could process that unlikely
thought, he was on the move again, tugging her along with him. “Over there.
Watch your step.”
      Men slowly got to their feet, some of
them staggering from shock, minor injuries, or maybe too much alcohol. A couple
of them hooked arms under their buddies’ armpits and pulled them free of
debris. One of the motorcycles suspended from the ceiling had crashed to the
floor. A body lay beneath it. Skip knelt beside the man, searching for signs of
life. Nothing. He covered him with a jacket lying in the twisted metal.
      Natasha stiffened her spine, refusing to
feel anything for the dead biker. She’d known the scumbag by reputation. He’d
beaten one of the girls senseless in a room upstairs. And Deuce hadn’t done
anything to stop him. The world was better off without him. And Deuce. She
wouldn’t allow herself to be swayed from her mission. By the time she was
finished, Deuce would either be dead or spending the rest of his life in prison,
doing lap dances of his own.
      Cripes, she should be the one in charge
here, not taking orders from Skip. This was her best chance to search for Zach
without drawing attention to herself. But, as if reading her mind, Skip wrapped
his fingers around her wrist.
    “Stay
close.” Midnight blue eyes challenged her. She was about to move off when his hold
tightened. “The ceiling’s sagging. We need to get everyone out of here before
it collapses.”
      “We can do this quicker if we split up,”
She shook loose from his grip. “I’ll see if the dining room’s safe while you
help herd everybody in that direction.”
      Not waiting for an answer, Natasha made