Pineapple Disco Page 9

She sucked in a breath.

  It isn’t a grid. It’s rooms.

  No wonder the shapes felt more familiar. The boxes represented the rooms she’d been searching for the last ten minutes. Having explored the club, it became obvious the paper was a rough map of the disco. She recognized the smaller boxes representing the bathrooms, the large one for the dance floor...

  The remaining confusing bit was a skinny strip that led away from the building constructed by two dashed lines. A road? Maybe they were planning to build a road to the disco. Maybe to use it as a drug warehouse.

  That would make sense. The property was in the middle of nowhere, where the occupants wouldn’t have to worry about too many prying eyes.

  The road led to another box. Maybe their current warehouse?

  That second box had another offshoot that led nowhere.

  Maybe the lines didn’t mean anything.

  There wasn’t time to speculate on the mapping skills of drug dealers. Charlotte folded the paper into a tight square and stuffed it in her pocket. She wasn’t sure why, but it seemed important. Maybe tomorrow—if she lived until tomorrow—she could give it additional thought.

  Maybe the men outside wanted the map? She could toss it out the door and they would go away. That would be good. Though the drawing seemed too crude and easy to reproduce for that to be true.

  Turning to leave, she ran directly into Declan’s broad chest and bounced back. He caught her before she could fall.

  “Watch it there, Bumble,” he said, using a nickname he’d once labeled her after watching her trip no less than five times in one day.

  She blushed, embarrassed. “Hey—I was on my way. I realized—”

  Seamus appeared behind Declan and moved to a bank of three small televisions. He pressed a button and the screens flickered to life, presenting the front and back of the club from different angles. Outside, a dark-skinned man with impossibly orange-red hair stepped out of a car with flames on the hood and a backend wrapped in a red tartan plaid. He drew a gun and walked across the parking lot toward the man writhing on the ground.

  “He’s busy saving his friend. We should go for it now,” suggested Seamus.

  “He’s got a gun,” said Declan.

  “We have two.”

  Declan frowned. “You think we should run out there, start a gun battle with him, and then ask everyone to step over his dead body and get in our cars?”

  Seamus sniffed. “It’s not a terrible idea. He’s planning on gunning us down. Shouldn’t we get him first?”

  Declan shook his head. “There are too many unknowns. For now, we’re safer in here. He might grab his friend and leave—”

  There was a pop! outside and all gazes shot to the flickering screens. The redheaded man had his gun pointed at the man on the ground. The man no longer moved.

  Charlotte gasped. “Did he just kill his friend?”

  “With friends like that...” mumbled Seamus, glancing at Declan. “Still think we don’t know his intentions? The longer we wait the better chance his reinforcements will arrive—”

  As if on cue, another car rolled into the parking lot.

  Charlotte’s shoulders slumped. “Well, that window closed quickly.”

  Declan turned and strode toward the disco area. “They’re going to try and shoot their way in. We need to get everyone safe.”

  Charlotte and Seamus jogged after him.

  “Everyone stay behind the bar. That means you too,” Declan said, nudging Charlotte toward the others as she exited the office. He glanced at Seamus and then Stephanie. “And you and you.”

  “Building secure?” asked Stephanie.

  Declan nodded. “But another car just arrived.”

  Stephanie rolled her eyes. “Give me a second to think.”

  “You can think behind the—”

  Gunfire erupted outside. Charlotte had stopped to listen to Declan and Stephanie’s conversation and now dropped to a squat, her hands covering her head. Declan pounced on her, covering her like a muscular blanket. She heard a bullet ricochet off something metal and the sound of Mariska screaming.

  “Yo! Yo!” screamed a voice outside, followed by a string of profanities. The gunfire ceased. “—the building!” was the last line Charlotte heard.

  She dropped her hands from her face as Declan released her.

  “Not many got through,” said Declan, already standing and surveying the damage. “How is that possible? Isn’t this building metal?”

  “I had the building reinforced for storms, noise and to keep the air conditioning bills lower,” said Jackie from behind the bar. “It’s cement block all around, encased by the aluminum sheeting.”

  “Someone has to tell me what is going on!” roared Darla, thrusting a finger at Stephanie from her position on the floor. “That one wouldn’t tell us anything while you were running around. Just some nonsense about drug dealers.”

  Charlotte stood. “Stay where you are.”

  “Who are these people?” asked Mariska, looking terrified. Charlotte wanted to do something to soothe her fears, but all she could think to do was share the truth.

  “We think they want Jackie’s disco to use for drug distribution.”

  Darla’s eyes bulged. “Are you kidding me? The drug dealers are real?” She looked at Jackie. “Did you know about this?”

  Jackie shook her head. “I knew someone wanted to buy the place and that they were being really pushy and a little scary but I never dreamed this would happen.”

  Darla fumbled in her purse and pulled out her phone. “I have to call Frank.”

  “There’s no signal,” reminded Jackie.

  Darla scowled. “So we’re trapped in here with drug dealers shooting at the building?”

  “Better than being out there,” said Stephanie.

  Mariska squinted at Stephanie. “This is your fault somehow. I know it.”

  Stephanie shook her head. “Believe it or not, if I hadn’t come you’d all be dead already.”

  “Okay, okay, bickering isn’t going to get us anywhere,” said Charlotte, giving Mariska a glare she hoped would keep her quiet.

  Mariska’s expression darkened as she offered Stephanie one last scowl. Stephanie stuck her tongue out at her.

  Someone pounded on the front door.

  “Stay behind the bar,” repeated Declan.

  “What do you want?” called Seamus in a booming baritone.

  “Leave the building and get in your cars and there will be no trouble.”

  “I’ve heard that one before,” muttered Stephanie.

  “You can’t kill us all,” continued Seamus, ignoring her. “There are a lot of us in here. You can’t kill this many people without blowback. One is the wife of a sheriff—”

  Declan lunged to slap his hand over his uncle’s mouth.

  “Are you crazy?” he hissed. His voice dropped lower and Charlotte crept forward to listen, though she’d already realized Seamus’s mistake.

  “Don’t give them leverage,” whispered Declan.

  Seamus cursed beneath Declan’s palm.

  “Frank will have the whole department out here!” screamed Darla.

  Charlotte whirled waving her hands in the air. “Darla, no!”

  Darla’s brow knit. “What? If they know we’re friends with the Sheriff it will scare them away.”

  Charlotte scurried behind the bar to Darla. “They know we have no way of reaching anyone. They cut the phone lines. But they can get to Frank.”

  “Get to Frank?” Darla took a moment and then gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. “You mean they’ll threaten to kill him if we don’t come out.”

  “Sheriff Frank, eh?” said the voice outside.

  Charlotte closed her eyes, breath releasing from her body.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Something on the roof of the disco rattled and all eyes trained upward. The glittery ball hanging in the center of the dance floor shook and began to slowly spin.

  “I
think you have pigeons,” said Stephanie. She grabbed her gun from the bar top and shot once through the ceiling in one fluid movement.

  Caught off guard, the ladies behind the bar released a string of yelps.

  A second later they heard someone outside call out, a scuffling noise on the roof, and then a loud Oof! at the front of the building.

  “Did someone fall? Did you get him?” asked Darla.

  Stephanie shrugged and set her gun back down.

  “Don’t start shooting,” snapped Declan, visibly angry.

  Stephanie rolled her eyes. “I’ve had enough of this.” She strode toward the front door. “Pirro! Go away. Let me get rid of these people and you can have the building.”

  “Hey!” called Jackie.

  Seamus held up a hand, asking her to be quiet.

  “That you in there, Rubia?” asked Pirro.

  Stephanie put a hand on her hip. “Leave or I’ll kill you all. How about that? Nice and slow, too.”

  Darla’s eyes bulged. “Would she do that?”

  “I told you she was up to no good,” muttered Mariska.

  Pirro called back. “I don’t think so, Rubia. You killed my friend.”

  “Actually Pirro killed his friend,” offered Declan. “If Pirro is the redhead. We saw it on the security cameras.”

  Stephanie grinned and called outside. “Hey, clown—you killed your friend, didn’t you?”

  There was a pause. “No. You killed him.”

  “There are cameras, moron. We saw you kill him.”

  “He was going to die anyway. I put him out of his pain.”

  Stephanie glanced at Declan. “He has a point. I get to count that one.”

  Declan frowned and Stephanie’s expression flashed regret, as if she’d been hoping Declan would high-five her for the kill. Charlotte found the exchange curious.

  That almost looked like she’d wanted Declan’s approval.

  Maybe Stephanie still had feelings for Declan after all... She’d always assumed the vicious blonde just had a bad case of wanting what she couldn’t have. For the first time, Charlotte felt a little sorry for her.

  “You come out or we’ll shoot you out,” called Pirro, bringing the conversation full circle.

  “Do you really want to mess up your boss’s building?” asked Stephanie.

  There was a pause. “You come out or we’ll kill Sheriff Frank.”

  Darla yipped. “What have I done?”

  Charlotte’s nervous stomach did another flip. Not only were they all already in danger, but she had no way to warn Frank of the trouble headed his way. They were trapped like rats, though rats always seemed to find a way out—

  Charlotte paused, picturing rats in a sewer scurrying through the tunnels.

  Something clicked.

  Charlotte pulled the map from her pocket and unfolded it on the bar.

  “I thought they wanted to build a road here from another facility.”

  “What’s that?” asked Declan, moving towards her.

  “This map Jackie found in the parking lot. I realized this loose jumble of boxes actually fits the room pattern of the club.”

  Declan placed a finger on the map. “You’re right. This part is definitely the club. And this is the road?”

  “There’s no road there now,” said Jackie, rising just high enough to peek at the map.

  “That’s what I thought at first. A road, right? But it isn’t a road. The lines are dashed. It’s a tunnel.”

  “An existing tunnel?”

  “I don’t know. But if it is, we can get out of here.” Charlotte looked at Jackie, whose expression filled with worry.

  “I don’t know anything about a tunnel.”

  Charlotte studied the map. I have to be right. The lines that led away from the building—if the dashed-line tube it created was drawn to scale with the rest of the rooms, it wasn’t a road or some sort of hamster tube. It was man-sized. And what was a giant, man-sized hamster tube but...a tunnel.

  “It leads from this side of the building. Is there a basement?”

  Jackie snorted a laugh. “In Florida?”

  Charlotte nodded. Of course not. Especially not here in the swamp.

  “That’s a good point,” said Declan. “How did they build a tunnel through the swamp?”

  Charlotte considered her hamster tube analogy. “Some sort of piping maybe? Oh no...Jackie, you said you reinforced the walls. Did you do the whole building?”

  Declan’s shoulder’s slumped. “Right. She would have found the tunnel if it was there.”

  Jackie nodded. “We went around the whole building...except...” She turned and stared at the bar shelving. On either side of the giant wooden structure Charlotte could see the walls had been built out by the cement block, effectively embedding the bar in the wall.

  Charlotte finished Jackie’s sentence. “Except behind the bar. Please tell me the bar was here when you bought the club?”

  Jackie nodded. “It was. It’s why I bought the place. It felt like it was fate.”

  “Who did you buy it from?”

  “Um...some group called Georgette Enterprises.”

  Stephanie perked. “Georgette Enterprises? That’s Louis’s mom. His father named one of his companies after her. Louis told me the whole boring story.”

  “So that’s why Louis and Pirro know about the tunnel,” said Charlotte.

  “Could they take the tunnel to get to us?” asked Declan.

  Charlotte stared up at the bar back. “Maybe they could...but there’s no point. Even if they have access to the other side, they think it’s sealed on this side. Behind the bar.”

  Charlotte locked eyes with Stephanie and pointed to the front door. “Stall Pirro. Don’t let him send people for Frank.”

  She turned to Jackie.

  “Sweetheart, I’m afraid we’re going to have to destroy your bar.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Declan appeared with a hammer in his hand.

  “Couldn’t find an axe?” asked Charlotte.

  “Sadly, no. I spotted this back in the utility room during our check, though.”

  Jackie stood, seemingly dumbstruck, gaping at the hammer in Declan’s hand.

  “Do you have a fire axe or something like that here?” he asked.

  Jackie continued to stare at the hammer.

  “Jackie.”

  Darla poked at her friend and Jackie jerked back into the present. “What?”

  “Declan asked you if you have an axe.”

  “An axe?”

  “Like a lumberjack.”

  “No. Why would I have an axe?” Jackie looked at Charlotte. “You’re not thinking about axing my beautiful bar, are you?”

  Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest. “We could stay here and die if you prefer.”

  “Or they could kidnap and kill Frank,” added Darla.

  Jackie put her face in her hands. “This is terrible. Fine. Do what you have to do but I don’t have to watch.”

  Mariska patted her on the shoulder. “We’ll remove all the bottles and glasses first.”

  Jackie nodded and everyone but Stephanie began clearing the shelves.

  “I’m running out of ideas for stalling them,” said Stephanie.

  Charlotte stared at the ceiling, thinking. “Just make small talk. Do you have shared history you could wax poetic about?”

  “Wax poetic? Do I look like Edgar Allan Poe?” Stephanie looked at Declan. “Where did you get this one?”

  “Just talk,” said Declan.

  Stephanie huffed and called to Pirro. “Remember that time you kidnapped Rico’s corner thug? Did you cut off his ear or his finger first?”

  Pirro laughed. Mariska’s eyes grew wide as golf balls. Each time Stephanie recalled another appalling thing Pirro had done, all heads turned to stare at her in horror. Pirro guffawed and gabbed like the standoff was a coffee clutch.

  Charlotte suspected Pirro was stalling for time, too, but couldn’t work out
why.

  As soon as the bar shelves were clear of glassware, Seamus hauled back the mallet he’d been impatiently cuddling and started smashing. Wood split in two and exploded from the cabinet. Jackie moaned.

  Declan grabbed Seamus’s arm before he could swing again. “Shhh.”

  “What?”

  “The shelves pull out. Just remove them. And try not to make so much noise. We don’t want Pirro to know what we’re up to.”

  Seamus scowled. “How would he know we’re destroying Jackie’s bar?”

  “We don’t know what he knows. He might know about the tunnel. He might be the guy who dropped that map in the first place.”

  “Hm. Good point, boyo.”

  They removed the shelves. Charlotte rapped the back of the bar, searching for a likely spot to start bashing.

  “Sounds like there’s a wall behind this side.”

  Seamus followed her lead and knocked on the opposite side. “Here too.”

  Declan tapped on the center. The sound made his expression darken. “This doesn’t sound promising either.”

  “Just hit it,” suggested Seamus.

  Declan took a deep breath and pulled back his hammer. “Here goes nothing.”

  Thrusting forward, hammer met wood. The veneer cracked. Charlotte thought she heard something crack and tumble to the ground behind the wall.

  She winced. She’d seen the power with which Declan hit the back of the bar, only to be denied. While the wood was cracked, they hadn’t made any real progress. Behind her, she could hear Stephanie running out of ways to delay Pirro’s wrath.

  “Yikes. That didn’t go far.”

  Declan took a few more swings, pausing for different time periods between each strike to keep Pirro from noticing an obvious hammering pattern ringing from inside. After the fourth swing, he put down the tool and clawed at the cracked wood. Wedging his fingers behind a sizable chunk, he peeled it back to reveal red brick.

  “I thought you said you didn’t have them brick this wall,” he said to Jackie.

  “They didn’t. I had them concrete block everything. I never saw them with bricks.”

  Declan grimaced. “They must have bricked up the tunnel before they built the bar in front of it.”

  Charlotte nodded. “Right. Of course. They never would have been able to sell the place with a giant drug tunnel attached to it.”