“Jesus, Teddy. Release the belt,” another man said.

I took this opportunity to scream.

Teddy dropped me, I hit the side of the seat and I used the steering wheel to pull myself back into it.

Ally had already been hauled out the other side, she wasn’t screaming and that scared the shit out of me.

I had no time to look for Ally as Teddy’s hands came around to undo the belt and I bent forward and bit his arm.

“Fuck!” He reared back and punched me in the cheekbone.

Hard.

I have never, in my life, been hit by a man.

I got in a bitch slapping catfight at a Public Image Limited – Big Audio Dynamite double bill but we were in a mosh pit gone bad. It was punk, it was expected.

Getting hit by a man hurt.

A f**king lot.

So much, I quit screaming and concentrated on the burning hurt that was radiating out of my cheekbone into my entire face.

“Teddy, for Christ sake. Are you nuts? She’s Nightingale’s. He’s gonna rip your dick off. This is supposed to go smooth.”

I opened my mouth to scream again and started back with the struggling.

Then Teddy was pulled away, someone touched me with something and after that, I didn’t remember a thing.

Chapter Five

Cupcakes

I came to feeling very funky and unable to move my limbs.

I focused on what appeared to be the ceiling of a car and heard voices from what sounded like really far away.

By the time the car stopped, I was able to move a little bit but not much. I was feeling tingly all over and my head was fuzzy.

The door to the car was opened and I was hauled out with hands under my armpits. Whoever hauled me out put me on my feet, my legs buckled and I nearly went down before I was caught. It was time again to lament the mini-skirt as a girl doesn’t want to be tossed around by bad guys while wearing a short skirt.

“Shit, hold her up, you moron.”

Two guys, one of them I noted was Goon Gary (not The Moron), dragged me by my upper arms through a tidy garage and into a house. I was shaking my head, trying to clear it and thinking not much of anything except that I wished I was wearing jeans.

I was taken into a room and heard a man say, “Jesus, what the f**k?”

The answer came hesitantly. “We had to stun her.”

“What happened to her face?”

This answer was more hesitant. “She bit Teddy so he hit her.”

“Christ! Which part of ‘I want this to go smooth’ did you not understand? Nightingale’s going to have a shit hemorrhage. Get her some ice then call Teddy, get him out of town.”

I was planted on a couch and not processing much of their conversation. I was focused on getting my fingers to move. I was together only enough to notice Goon Gary and The Moron making a hasty exit and that the couch I was on was a really nice couch, fluffy and covered in cream silk damask. I’d only just bought my couch a couple of months ago and I was still in couch-assessment mode, the kind of mode that unconsciously comes whenever you make a major purchase.

I succeeded in lifting my head to look at the guy who’d been talking. He was wearing gray slacks, a maroon shirt with a monochromatic tie. He was short, had to be in his fifties and had jet-black hair with white at each temple. He looked like what I would guess a younger Grandpa Munster would look like. Except a lot more creepy and definitely scary but not in a comic way.

“You okay?” he asked me.

No, I wasn’t okay. I’d just been punched in the face and then kidnapped.

I just stared at him.

“I’m really sorry about his,” he said. “I’m having troubles with some of my employees.”

No shit.

I thought it but didn’t say it, I hadn’t recovered enough to form words.

Gary came back with an ice bag wrapped in a kitchen towel and handed it to me. I was happy I had enough limb coordination to put it on my face. My cheekbone hurt like hell.

“This didn’t go as I’d planned. I just wanted to have a chat. I heard Nightingale had a woman and I was curious,” the man said to me, his tone surprisingly conciliatory.

“Where’s Ally?” I asked.

First things first. I wanted to know Ally was okay and then I wanted to have a nervous breakdown.

Young Grandpa Munster looked at Goon Gary.

“She was with another woman, we stunned her too,” Goon Gary explained, “We left her in the car with the keys. Teddy’s behind watching the car to make sure she’s okay.”

“Ally?” Young Grandpa Munster asked.

Gary shrugged.

Mr. Munster’s face tightened. “As in Allyson Nightingale, Lee Nightingale’s little sister?”

Gary began to look a wee bit uncomfortable.

It would appear this was an “oopsie” moment for Goon Gary.

“I’m at a loss for words. You do know that this isn’t only Lee’s woman, she’s Tom Savage’s daughter? And her friend is a Nightingale.”

Gary shifted on his feet while the color rose in his face.

Young Grandpa Munster sat down, shaking his head. “This whole thing is a complete f**k up.”

He looked at me and his face had an expression that was somewhere between resigned and depressed. In normal circumstances, I’d probably feel sorry for him. Since I didn’t know if I’d live to see the end of this scene in the film that was my life, I was too busy feeling sorry for myself.

“The simple life is holding some appeal,” he said and I nodded because I could see where he was coming from.

My life had been simple a day ago. Work, coffee, rock ‘n’ roll. Now I was being shot at, dragged around by bad guys and propositioned by the love of my life who I had decided I didn’t want anymore.

The simple life seemed far superior to all of that.

“I’m Terry Wilcox,” he went on.

I nodded again. I was beginning to feel enough of myself to be scared, but not enough to be polite.

“You’re India Savage, Lee’s woman.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to say I was not Lee’s anything but these people seemed scared enough of Lee for me to decide that I should keep my mouth shut on that score.

It was then Wilcox really looked at me, from head to toe, and he sat back, getting comfortable, his face changing from depressed to assessing.

“Lee’s always had good taste in women,” he said quietly and something in his eyes made my skin crawl.