Ash & Dust

8| He Was Observant

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DUST
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"This ain't so bad, right, Dust?" Micky asked, nudging my side with his elbow.

Shrugging my shoulders as a response, I focused on the growing crowd in front of us. So far, nothing seemed out of the ordinary for a club. The music was loud and obnoxious. Check. The people were intoxicated and grinding on one another. Check. The bartenders were doing their job well. Check. I even talked to them earlier and told them not to hesitate in calling me over if they saw someone suspicious, like a drink spiker. I wouldn't mind having to pummel a dirtbag or two.

All in all, things were pretty uneventful, though.

"There's some pretty hot eye candy out tonight," Micky smirked. "See anyone you like?"

Looking around, he was right. There were quite a few lookers on the dance floor. Glancing down at his amused face, I chuckled. "Don't you have a girlfriend?"

"Yeah. But I know the rules. I can look, just can't touch, and I'm completely fine with that."

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

Feigning hurt, he frowned. "Hey! It's not dumb! Dumb is the fact that you've been single for years now. I know you get approached, so what's the deal? You still not over Callie?"

Sighing, I tried to ignore him and focus on the first legal job I'd had since my father's death, but Micky was a persistant guy when he wanted to be.

"It's not Callie," I finally answered through a tense jaw. My annoyance did not go unnoticed by him. "It's...It's what happened to her."

"Dammit, Dust-"

"It's my fault she got shot, and I'm never putting another woman in danger just so I'm not lonely or some stupid shit like that," I spoke bitterly.

We didn't speak much after that, thank God. I was afraid I'd have to suffer through him telling me how the shit that went down those years ago wasn't my fault, and I didn't have it in me to listen to the lies again. Two hours passed, and other than conversations pertaining to work, we hadn't said a word. Micky may not have agreed with me, although I found it idiotic not to, but he remembered how guilty I felt right after the shootout. He wouldn't push the subject further. At least not tonight.

"No! Get off of me!"

I just barely heard the woman's shouts over the loud techno music, but I did and immediately searched the crowd for anything off. It was hard to see well with the strobe lights flashing and people constantly moving.

"I don't want to go with you! Get that through your thick skull, you dick!"

Tapping Micky's shoulder, I leaned down to catch him up on what I heard and signalled for him to stand near the exit, just in case the man managed to drag the woman there. Once he left, I started walking around, hoping that if the situation didn't diffuse itself, I'd spot them and end it myself.

Time ticked by slowly, while I moved relatively fast and yet I failed to find a single woman that looked like she was being manhandled. I was starting to think that she managed to get away from him when a loud crash caught my attention.

The sound came from the direction of the exit, and I cursed when I realized what was going on. Micky was pinned against a wall, trying his best to block the punches being thrown at him. I was able to spot a woman who looked to have been crying as she ran away, further into the club.

If I had to guess, I'd say she was the woman I heard screaming, and right now she was probably headed back to her friends. Which reminded me...I had a friend to get back to, too.