Page 22 of Midnight’s Captive (Stroke of Midnight #2)

Taryn studied the framework of the plan she and Dani had been working on. It wasn’t perfect, not yet, but it was getting there. Ash had asked about it when he arrived earlier to play with the hacking equipment, and Taryn had been relieved to be able to tell him it was coming together.

Then he’d asked about a timeline. She sighed. Like she could just snap her fingers and get a person out of a bad situation just like that. Did he think she could extricate Hope from the Tremaine-controlled hospital like magic?

She’d wanted to tell him that her usual rescue took weeks and weeks of planning, but that wasn’t a secret she was willing to share. So she’d just told him she was working on it.

The hospital looked like a fortress from the outside. Services were strictly for members of the Tremaine family, some employees, and, apparently, hostages. Ash had provided as much information as he could from his visits, so Taryn had the basic layout, including a map of Hope’s floor and her room. He’d also listed off all the equipment required to keep her healthy.

Acquiring the equipment was her second problem.

Taryn tapped her finger against the computer screen. Outside of a few scalpels and first-aid kits, hospital-style medical supplies weren’t usually on her shopping list.

It was solvable. She just hadn’t figured it out yet.

Her office door slammed against the wall and she jumped. “What the hell, Dani?”

“You’ve got to get out there. Now.” Dani’s hands were clenched into fists at her sides. Her white knuckles were visible from across the room.

Taryn was already up and moving. She circled her desk. “What’s wrong?”

“Giselle’s pimp. He’s back.” Dani’s voice was tight.

Fuck. This was the last thing Taryn needed. “Who’s manning the bar?” she asked, keeping as tight a rein on her temper as she could.

“Jenna. Daryl’s at her side.”

Okay. Good. Daryl was big and intimidating.

“The rest of security?” Taryn didn’t employ many guys, but the ones who worked for her were damn good at their jobs.

“Scattered around the room, keeping an eye on things.” Dani paused, took a deep breath. “They’re waiting for you, but if things escalate, they’ll take care of it.”

Yeah, that was what Taryn paid them for, but breaking up a good old-fashioned bar fight was one thing. Dealing with a pissed-off pimp who kept showing up where he shouldn’t? That was something altogether different. Something completely unacceptable that Taryn needed to deal with herself.

Giselle’s pimp had met her as a flighty city lady looking to get laid.

Tonight, he’d meet the Jack.

While she changed, Taryn peppered Dani with questions—the number of patrons, their locations, her sense of the temperature of the room.

Thankful she had on her shitkickers, Taryn pulled off her sweater and pulled on a thin armored undershirt. It covered her left side from shoulder to wrist. On the right, a capped sleeve covered her shoulder, but left the rest of her arm bare.

Her right arm didn’t need protection. It was protection. The alloy could withstand heat and most projectiles. Plus, she hit like a badass motherfucker with that arm.

Taryn gathered her hair into a loose knot at the back of her head, then shrugged into a short leather jacket. Like the shirt, it was designed to leave her arm free.

While her arm was a weapon, it wasn’t her only one. She slipped a stunner into her pocket and slid a knife into the built-in sheath in her sleeve. Additional weapons were stowed behind the bar and all her people were trained to use them.

She stretched her neck left and right. “Ready.”

Taryn hurried down the hallway, Dani at her side. The situation could have escalated while she armed herself, but she trusted her people. They’d trained for this, for the day that someone tried to take her turf.

If things had gone to shit, her customers would be safe and the bad guys would be dead. She’d keep what was hers by fair means or foul.

Pausing in front of the bar area doors, Taryn took a deep breath and centered herself. She had to do this right and make an entrance. Maintaining the Jack’s reputation was two-thirds showmanship and one-third backing it up with as much force as necessary.

“Stay back here,” she instructed Dani.

Her second-in-command protested. Taryn cut her off with a look. “Good or bad, everyone’s attention will be on me. I don’t want you in the line of fire. Either stay back here or use one of the other entrances to get back behind the bar.”

She hated the thought of Dani in danger. Still, the other woman was a big girl, able to take care of herself.

“I’m going to the bar.” Dani practically dared Taryn to contradict her. Taryn wasn’t surprised; she would have made the same choice.

Waiting until Dani was clear, Taryn pushed open the doors. Violently.

Silence fell over the bar. Taryn bit back a smile. She loved it when that happened.

Aware that all eyes were on her, she zeroed in on the troublemaker. The pimp was leaning over the bar, harassing Jenna. Fuck that.

Tension rode the room. Keeping her anger under tight control, Taryn strode to the bar.

He straightened and turned toward her with a swagger that was probably supposed to look dangerous.

Yeah, no.

Her gaze swept the room, picking out his bodyguards a few feet away from him. Whether the pimp and his friends had realized it or not, they were surrounded by her people.

“Problem?” Taryn stepped forward, crowding him against the bar.

He looked her up and down.

Her skin crawled. Men like him sickened her.

“Hey, baby.” He squinted, stared a bit closer. “I know you?”

Taryn raised a brow. “You’re in my place. Why?”

“The Jack’s a chick? You’re shitting me.” He looked around the bar like he got the joke. No one else laughed. The other patrons held their drinks close, while they waited to see how the Jack responded.

Another step forward. “Heard you had a problem.” She didn’t raise her voice. Not yet.

He put his hands in the air, gave her a mocking smile. “No problem, baby.” He drawled out the word, leering at her. “I lost something, heard you’d found it.”

“This look like a lost and found to you?” Her tone clearly called him an idiot. Taryn gestured around the room.

A few people snickered. She knew it wasn’t her team, so it had to be her patrons. Good. She needed them on her side. If she lost face, she’d lose both their support and their money.

His eyes narrowed and his expression got mean. He puffed out his chest, playing at intimidation. If he thought he could cow her the way he did his girls—well, he’d best think twice.

The pimp stepped closer. Looked her up and down. “I know you.” He narrowed his eyes, looked her up and down again.

She felt slimy and he hadn’t even touched her. Poor Giselle, putting up with this on the regular.

“Yeah, I know you, bitch. You’re the one who took my Gazelle.”

The asshole mangled Giselle’s name again.

“I don’t think so.” Taryn was willing to play this out for a minute. Was he smart enough to realize coming here was the biggest mistake he could make?

“No. You are. You’re the bitch who stole my girl!” He was shouting now. “Where is she? I know you’ve got her here.”

Everyone in the bar was watching now. That was fine. This could only end one way.

Her way.

“She’s not your girl.”

“I knew it. They told me you had her. Give her back.” He slammed his hand down on the counter.

Okay, she was done. Taryn stepped closer again, projecting don’t-fuck-with-me vibes. Weight balanced on the balls of her feet, she was ready to move if this went south.

Now he pushed away from the bar, his face inches from hers. From the corner of her eye, she saw his guards inch closer.

Taryn shook her head, a tiny movement telling her guys to hold.

“Bitch, give me the girl or I’ll shoot this place up.” His hand hovered near his hip. She didn’t see a weapon but didn’t doubt he was armed.

Behind her, patrons shifted, like they were trying to get a good view, rather than run. Good. They trusted the Jack to handle this.

“Bitch, I don’t have your girl.” She gave him the same up and down look he’d given her. “I can see why she left you, though.” Her gaze lingered on his crotch a hair longer than the rest of him before she met his eyes and smirked.

“Get out of my bar.” Her voice was steady. Solid. Cold as ice.

He flinched and took a step back.

Someone in the crowd snickered and the pimp seemed to realize what he’d done. He took a step closer and raised his hand.

Bastard. She’d dealt with his kind. Had the scars to prove it.

Raising that hand was a big mistake. She wasn’t one of his girls. She wasn’t under his power.

She had her own.

He lunged at her with a yell. Completely untrained, he telegraphed every move.

Taryn didn’t flinch. Didn’t even step out of the way.

She watched his hand as if he was moving in slow motion. She held perfectly still, giving nothing away as she gauged the moment it would strike and threw her hand up to block it.

Not just block it. Grab it.

Taryn wrapped her mechanical fingers around his hand and exerted slow but steady pressure.

It took him a moment to register what had happened. His expression morphing from surprise to pain was much quicker.

“Bitch!” he yelled, then his voice dropped to a squeak when she applied more pressure. It was almost comical.

His bones rubbed together in her grasp. The harder she pressed, the more it would hurt.

He whimpered and she tightened her grip. It’d be so easy to destroy him. It had taken her months to learn to control the unbelievable strength in this arm, to identify the fine line between making it hurt and crushing bones. Now she knew exactly how hard to squeeze.

That was when his two bodyguards moved closer.

As soon as they stepped toward Taryn, her guys intercepted them. Her team had them out of the way with barely a whisper.

Taryn changed her arm position slightly and he dropped to his knees. Only her grip kept it a controlled movement. She kept his arm straight while the rest of his body flopped to the floor.

Fear and anger warred in his eyes. The fear was winning.

And she wasn’t even breathing hard.

Time for him to learn who was boss here.

“Now that I have your attention, I’ll say this again. But slowly this time. Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. Bar.” She emphasized each word with a little squeeze. Rage simmered below her surface, her control on it as finely tuned as that on her arm.

He moaned.

“Do you understand?”

He nodded. A weak, pathetic effort.

“Out loud,” she demanded.

“Yes.” He spat the word.

“You will not come back here.”

She waited. When he didn’t respond, she gave him another little nudge.

“Yes, fine.” He nodded again.

“You will leave Giselle alone.”

Now he showed outright confusion. “Who?”

Save her from goddamned idiots. “Gazelle.”

“She’s mine?—”

Whatever he thought he was going to say cut off with a scream.

“No. She’s not yours. She belongs to no one but herself.”

“Fine.” He spat out the word.

“Come to think of it. Why don’t you dismantle your entire operation?”

It was a pipe dream. As soon as he did, another pimp would pop up to take his place, like a game of whack-an-asshole.

“You stupid bit?—”

Another scream.

“That’s really not very nice.” Like she fucking cared. “It does make me pretty determined to make it happen.”

Every eye in the place was on her now. No one spoke. Half of them probably weren’t breathing.

The entire bar waited to see what she did next.

The power was a rush.

It had surprised her at first. She’d learned to walk a very fine line. Too far in one direction and she would become just as bad as the man she had replaced.

She crouched down to his level, never releasing his arm, just moving carefully so she didn’t do permanent damage. He would never understand how much thought she put into not hurting him. Guys like him never did.

Still gripping his hand—hard—she leaned close, her face inches from his. “You dismantle your business or I’ll do it for you.” She gave him her nicest, most terrifying smile.

He wet himself.

So glad that it still worked. She’d learned an awful lot from the previous Jack. Most of it bad. “I’ll be watching you. I’ll know whether you did. Or not.”

Ignoring the smell of piss rising from the floor, Taryn leaned closer. “You don’t want to see what happens if it’s ‘or not.’”

“I got it.” He gasped. Anger flared in his eyes.

She released him and stood in one fluid movement.

The pimp lunged for her knees.

She’d been expecting it. Counting on it, even. Her booted foot met his chest and knocked his ass back down. He landed in a puddle of urine.

“You done?”

He scrambled to his feet. “I’m gonna make you pay, bitch.” He kept talking but didn’t make another move.

That could be a problem. Little assholes like him fed on their self-righteous anger. Her actions could make things worse for the girls he still had. She really hoped that wouldn’t happen, but she’d keep an eye on the situation.

She turned her back on him, letting everyone in the bar know that she didn’t consider him a threat. She waved Daryl and another bouncer over. “Get this trash off the floor. And escort anyone with him out of my bar.”

Daryl clamped his hand on the pimp’s shoulder—the one Taryn had used for her arm bar—and the man whimpered.

Dani slid a shot over to Taryn while she watched the trash get taken out. “That was pretty damn impressive,” she whispered.

“Thanks,” Taryn whispered back. She tossed back the shot and studied the bar. As soon as the pimp and his boys were tossed out and the puddle on the floor cleaned up, sound returned to the bar. Murmurs of approval and a smattering of applause told Taryn that the Jack’s reputation was still intact.