Slick disengaged from Dad, ran backwards and slammed me into a wal and my head flew back and cracked against the plaster.

“Don’t hurt my girl,” Dad shouted and lunged forward again.

“Go, Dad. Get out of here!” I yel ed.

Al of a sudden, there was a bunch of people. I was holding onto Slick in a death grip and he was jerking this way and that, trying to dislodge me. There were men shouting, women screaming, hands on me trying to pul me away.

Then Slick whirled and began to slash out randomly with the knife and everyone jumped back, including, I vaguely noticed, Vance, the hot guy who worked for Lee.

Then Tanya rushed forward and started beating Slick with her tray, using it when she needed as a shield. Vance grabbed her by the waist, picking her up bodily, her legs pedaling, stil hitting out at thin air with the tray, and he pul ed her down the hal .

Slick turned, ran to the fire exit, twisted his body so his weight and momentum both had me slamming against the door. The cross bar tagged my hip so hard, I cried out and let go, landing unsteadily on my slut shoes and Slick ran away.

I had no time to think or do anything. The fire alarm went off and it was blaring loudly.

Then Smithie had a hold of me, he shoved me and I landed in Lenny’s arms.

“Take her inside and do not f**kin’ leave her side,” Smithie said then took off after Slick.

Lenny pul ed me inside, Vance (without Tanya) passed us at a run, going out the backdoor.

I didn’t hesitate, I dragged Lenny around the whole club, looking for Dad. I was limping, kind of, because my hip and butt bone both hurt like hel .

There was no sign of him.

When I yanked Lenny back into the club from the dancer’s dressing room, the lights were on ful , the fire alarm had been turned off, the stage was empty, people were standing around and the cops were there.

I scanned the people to see if I could find my Dad, but he wasn’t there.

“Fuck!” I shouted, because it was definitely the time to say the f-word.

Smithie came in from outside, breathing heavy, and bore down on me. “You wanna tel me what in the f**k is goin’

on?” he yel ed.

“I don’t know! I have to find my Dad. He was here and Slick was after him.”

“Forget your Dad. We’re talkin’ about you. That’s twice you had some f**kin’ guy with a knife after you.”

“He isn’t after me,” I told him.

“No, from where I stood, it f**kin’ looked like you were after him,” Smithie shot back.

“He pul ed a knife on my Dad!” I yel ed.

“Someone pul s a knife, you get the f**k outta Dodge.

You don’t jump on his back. Fuck! You’re a crazy woman!” Smithie shouted.

“I’m not crazy!” I shouted back

A plain-clothes police officer walked up and interrupted us with a soft cough. He introduced himself as Detective us with a soft cough. He introduced himself as Detective Jimmy Marker and told me he had to ask a few questions.

Smithie pointed at me, “You’re a pain in my f**kin’ ass.” Then he stomped away.

The detective had the opportunity to ask me two questions before his eyes moved beyond me and his chin lifted in that silent greeting men do so well .

Then I felt fingers curl into the waistband of my mini-skirt.

I began to turn around when I heard Eddie say, “Give me a minute, Jimmy.”

Uh-oh.

Jimmy looked at Eddie, his eyes knowing and maybe slightly amused, though I didn’t know what in the hell was amusing right now. He nodded and wandered away.

Eddie pul ed me back a few steps and moved in front of me. One look at his face and “uh-oh” didn’t do it justice, it was definitely the kind of look that garnered a “holy shit”.

Eddie was seriously pissed off.

I tel you, I couldn’t buy a break.

Before I could say anything, Eddie turned to Lenny, who had stil not left my side. He communicated something nonverbal y because Lenny said, “I got orders not to leave her.”

Eddie fished in his back jeans pocket and flashed his badge.

Lenny nodded, looked at me and moved away.

“Eddie…” I said before he started but he lifted up his hand, Smithie style, and I shut up.

I was getting “the hand” a lot these days and it was beginning to tick me off.

He waited a beat, hooking his badge onto the belt on his jeans. Then he shook his head.

“You know, I don’t even know what to say,” he said.

“Let me explain.”

“You got an explanation for this? This I have to hear.” I actual y didn’t have an explanation so I fel silent.

“That’s what I thought,” Eddie said.

Al right, enough was enough. I mean, what would he do?

“What could I do? He had a knife and was fighting with Dad. I had to jump on his back and try to help!” I yel ed.

Okay, so before, it actual y was an “uh-oh” moment and this was a “holy shit” moment.

Eddie’s face changed and he looked at me like I just told him I wanted to go to Pluto for Spring Break.

“I hadn’t heard that part,” Eddie said in his scary quiet voice.

“Eddie—“ I started again.

He didn’t let me finish.

“Have you lost your mind? ”

This wasn’t said in a quiet voice, this was shouted and everyone, cops, bouncers, dancers and waitresses turned to stare.

I opened my mouth to defend myself (as if I had to, I mean, real y, it was my Dad) but didn’t get a word out.

“That’s what I’m talking about.” As if things weren’t bad enough with pissed off, shouting Eddie, Smithie showed up at our tête-à-tête.

“It wasn’t like I asked to wrestle in the hal way with a guy with a knife.” I said to the both of them, pissed off myself now, hands on h*ps and everything.

“You see a knife, you run as fast as you f**kin’ can,” Smithie said.

Now he was repeating himself.

“You run in these shoes,” I told him.

“That’s it. You wear tennis shoes on shift from now on.” My eyes widened and I stared. None of Smithie’s girls wore tennis shoes. The cocktail waitresses were required to have no less than a three-inch heel (I saw Smithie measure once) and the strippers wore sky-high platforms.

“I can’t wear tennis shoes!” I snapped. “Do you know what that’d do to my tips?”

Now both Eddie and Smithie were staring at me like I’d donated my brain to science pre-mortem.