The Iron Quill by Shelena Shorts Page B

my head down.
    I knew at this point that Wes was in serious trouble. There’s no doubt that he would’ve called me by now. I knew he couldn’t and
if
he couldn’t, then that meant whoever had him wasn’t planning on letting him go any time soon.
    Words cannot describe the urgency that was flaring through me. I didn’t have any more time to wait on other people to come through. I confirmed my decision, right there in the police station parking lot, to find Tim and confront him on my own. What other choice did I have?
    I called Danny and asked him what nights the fight club met and he told me I was in luck.
Hardly.
    “Why do you want to know?”
    “I’m just curious.”
    “Well, if you were thinking about telling them about Chase, you don’t have to worry. I already called Tim and told him what happened.”
    What?!
“You told Tim?”
    “Yeah, he was his only other friend besides me.”
    Trying not to sound too irritated, I managed to speak calmly. “What did he say?”
    “He said it was messed up. I just wish he would come to the funeral. That’d be nice. It’s the least he could do considering how much money Chase made him at the fight club.”
    I knew why he wasn’t going to come. That would be the ultimate twisted, no-conscience-having scum, but I was extremely curious to hear
his
explanation for bailing on a so-called friend.
    “Why can’t he come?”
    “Said he’s moving this weekend.”
    At that point I could no longer keep up the façade. “This weekend?!”
    “Yeah, and Dad says the funeral won’t be until next week, so it’ll just be us, unless we can track down some family somewhere.”
    “I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”
    This weekend? Moving? Oh, no. No, no, no. I had to corner him. Even if that meant going directly into the lion’s den. Did I have a plan for when I got there? No, but that didn’t stop me. Dark, creepy rooms with sweaty, drugged up guys beating each other’s brains out were not going to keep me from seeing Tim, face to face. Scared to death or not, I was running out of time.
    Around 9:00, I found myself parked in the creepy, dark alley that led to the back entrance of the building where the fight club met. I’d thought about asking Dawn or even Danny to come with me, but hadn’t wanted to put them into a dangerous situation just because I was chicken.
    That meant it was up to me to work my way into the sweaty, stinky, loud basement to confront Tim. I mean really, what could he do to me in front of everyone? No, not just everyone else. Men, lots of them . . . just as intimidating as Tim.
    I took a deep breath and got out of my car, slowly making my way through the narrow opening between the Dumpster and the brick wall of the neighboring building. My heart was racing, but this time I wasn’t concerned with possible rats at my feet. The fear was a result of threats homing in on me from much higher. Piercing my back, my side, my front. Everywhere, I felt dark, hidden, back-alley eyes on me.
    I looked around, paranoid, and saw only darkness, which was just as unsettling. The moment I stepped past the Dumpster, I froze.
What am I doing here?
I’m no superhero with an invisible protective shield.
    If my time with Wes was any indication of my invincibility, it was clear that I was the complete opposite. I wanted Wes home more than my own breath, but more importantly, I wanted to give Wes everything he’s ever asked of me. And at the top of his list would be
not
purposely putting myself in dangerous situations.
    A zillion warnings whispered through my mind telling me I shouldn’t be going there, alone, at night, by myself. Conflicted, I found myself carrying on a conversation with Wes.
    His urgent, but soothing tone, told me he was proud of me, and what I was attempting was amazing but stupid, so please turn around and find another way. “You don’t belong here,” he said. “You belong with me, safe, and in my arms. Have patience. Be smart.”
    I grunted loud