Free Altering Authority by Ashley Dooley Page A

followed. Bobo and Gary even hugged her like normal people, without the sexual advances and longer-than-necessary squeezes. Jager was last, and his hug felt the best. When it was all said and done, and Tatum was standing in the parking lot of her club, watching it burn, Jagers arms were the only place she wanted to be. She mentally kicked herself for feeling that way. He held her a few beats longer than everyone else had. The thought of something bad happening to her had him sick to his stomach. She sat down then and told them everything that had happened.
    Mercedes, her dancer, sent her a text that morning that something weird was happening at the club. When she arrived, Mercedes was nowhere to be found. No one was. The club was empty. Tatum and Rick looked all throughout the club and received another text from Mercedes’ phone that they were in the basement. Tatum suspected then that it was a trap. She drew her gun and Rick did the same. Making their way down the stairs, they saw a streak of blood in the dimly lit basement, a stark contrast on the old white-tiled floors. Before they knew what was happening, someone shut the door above them and bolted it. Within seconds a loud bang erupted from upstairs somewhere.
    Tatum and Rick ran around to the emergency exit only to find that it was bolted as well. Tatum knew that in one of the other rooms, where she had shelves full of boxes, was a window that couldn’t be seen unless someone known about it. They ran to that room, smoke now bellowing from the ceiling. Sounds of things crashing and incinerating above them. In the hallway before the storage room, laid Mercedes. A bullet in her head. Tatum shook her, pointlessly. More frustrated than angry. Mercedes was one of her most profitable girls. Rick pulled out his cell phone and called Marcus, telling him to get down there and help them.
    Just as they opened the door to the room, they heard voices. Tatum told Rick to go and try to get to the window. There were a lot of boxes to remove. She followed the sound of men talking. She figured after a minute that there were three of them. Drawing her gun, she rounded the corner only to be struck in the mouth by a tall dark-skinned man. The expression on his face said that he wasn’t expecting to see her there and was panicking with the knowledge that he was trapped like she was. He pulled a gun from the back of his pants but not before Tatum shot him in the arm. The gun clattered to the floor just before the man did.
    “Who are you?” she demanded from him calmly, as he writhed in pain, clutching his bleeding arm. “Who the fuck sent you?”
    Before he could speak, two more men came around the corner and started shooting at her. She put a bullet in the guy on the floor, not bothering to look back to see where, as she ran away from her pursuers. Rick heard the commotion then and came to help her. He shot at the men and got one of them, more so stunning him than anything. Tatum finished him as he examined the graze on his shoulder. The third man then got away. Realizing he was out numbered, he ran back and found a room to hide in. Rick went in first and was struck on the head, knocking him unconscious. The room was pitch black. Tatum licked her lips, tasting the metallic tang of blood. Knowing that her club was, at this point, beyond saving, she got even more pissed off.
    The heat was stifling. Somewhere in the distance she heard the ceiling collapsing and it was getting difficult to breath. She bent down and grabbed Rick by the arm, dragging him away from the door frame. She slapped him a few times to get him to wake up. He came around a few seconds later, albeit very groggy. His forehead was busted open and blood began running into his eyes. She had to help him up, wrapping his arm over her shoulder. She’d let the fire take care of the other guy. They had to get out right then or else. They made their way back to the room and she was glad to see that Rick had the boxes clear and