Sherry returned to Burman from the city the following morning. Andrew himself drove her back in his Jeep Wrangler.
Preferring not to reveal her private address, Sherry hadn't returned to her London townhouse.
As the vehicle stopped, Sherry stepped out, smoothing her hair. Her stilettos clicked sharply on the pavement.
Andrew didn't enter the bar. He lounged in the driver's seat, one arm resting on the lowered window, smoke curling lazily from the cigarette between his fingers.
Sherry rapped her knuckles twice on the Jeep's body. "Mr. Andrew," she smiled, signaling her departure. "Until next time."
"Next time."
Andrew raised an eyebrow in casual acknowledgment. He put the cigarette back in his mouth, rolled up the window without a second glance, and drove the imposing Wrangler away.
Sherry watched him go, her own eyebrow arched with interest.
Inside the bar, the atmosphere was charged. The gazes fixed on Sherry, particularly from the men on the dance floor, held a newfound, naked heat and desire.
A faint smile playing on her lips, Sherry navigated the throng. She unclasped the decorative crucifix pendant from her neck and tossed it carelessly to a nearby guitarist.
It was like dropping a bomb on the dance floor. The crowd erupted in raucous cheers and laughter. Sherry ignored the deafening catcalls and crude jokes, humming Tales from the Vienna Woods as she made her way to her room.
Sherry's allure had always been intrinsic, untethered to power or position.
Her room was on the second floor, part of the enforcers' dormitory block. Stretching languidly, she shed the figure-hugging gown and pasties, kicked off her heels, and padded barefoot towards the bathroom, unraveling her silver curls as she went.
Bright sunlight streamed in, outlining her voluptuous curves against skin like polished alabaster.
She turned on the shower. Warm water enveloped her. Sherry closed her eyes, a sigh of contentment escaping her lips, resembling a sated snow leopard.
Haven't seen the little one in ages, she thought, massaging shampoo into her scalp.
…
Meanwhile, the object of her fleeting thought, Dixie, ducked under Rex's fist. She swung back, only for Rex to catch her punch effortlessly once more.
With a sharp twist of his wrist, Rex sent her sprawling. Dixie hit the floor, rolled, and sprang up instantly. She took a running leap, launching a flying kick.
Rex leaned back, evading it easily. Dixie, overcommitted, lost her balance upon landing and crashed heavily to the mat.
The impact knocked the wind out of her. She rolled several times before stopping, gasping in pain.
"Tch," Rex grunted impatiently. He nudged her with his boot as she tried to rise, sending her flat on her back again. "With skills like that, you might as well go peddle yourself now."
Dixie lay on her back, dark eyes fixed on Rex. Sweat trickled from her temples into the grimy collar of her shirt.
"Well, kid?" Rex bared his teeth in a predatory grin. "Had enough?"
"…"
"No."
Dixie scrambled up. She launched a low sweep kick, easily dodged by Rex. Using the momentum, she flipped up and attacked again without hesitation.
Rex grinned, meeting her assault blow for blow. Though labeled training, his punches held no mercy.
Dixie took several hits. Though she gritted her teeth in silence, her reactions slowed. Her arms trembled violently from absorbing too many impacts.
SMACK!
Rex caught another weak punch. His fingers tightened slightly. Dixie winced, her arm trembling harder, her fist spasming within his grip.
"…"
Rex released her. Dixie snatched her hand back, instantly adopting a defensive stance, dark eyes locked on him.
Ignoring her, Rex straightened and walked to the supply rack. He grabbed two water bottles and tossed one towards Dixie.
She caught it, watching him warily.
"Five minutes. Drink. Then we go again."
Rex glanced at her, one hand in his pocket, the other unscrewing his bottle cap. He took a slow, deliberate sip.
Parched, Dixie's throat worked. She twisted the cap off and gulped down half the bottle desperately. Water spilled over her chin, tracing paths down her throat and into her shirt.
The rest followed in quick, noisy swallows.
She exhaled shakily, then sat down heavily, ignoring any semblance of grace, and drained the last drops.
Her tongue darted out, licking her lips, as she absently crushed the empty plastic bottle.
Lost in thought staring at the crumpled plastic, something cold pressed against her cheek. Dixie flinched, jerking her head away.
It was Rex's half-finished water bottle.
Rex's eyes narrowed. He tossed the bottle into her lap and nudged her leg with his boot. "Drink, kid. Then back to work."
Dixie stared at him intently, seemingly trying to decipher something in his expression.
Rex met her gaze, a cold smirk twisting his lips. His ice-blue eyes bored into hers, edged with cruelty. "Break's over? Ready?"
"…" Dixie immediately averted her eyes. She drained Rex's water down to the last drop, her parched throat finally soothed.
Not a word wasted. Once finished, she scrambled up, wiping water from her face with her sleeve.
Rex's gaze lingered on the faint tremor still visible in her arm beneath the fabric. He pressed his tongue against his cheek, about to speak, when a familiar voice cut through.
"Rex. How's the little one doing?"
Dixie's eyes widened slightly at the sound. She looked up towards the platform.
Sherry stood there, changed into practical workout gear, her silver curls tied high. She leaned her forearms casually on the railing, bending slightly. Seeing Dixie look up, she winked.
Rex ran his tongue over his teeth. He jerked his chin dismissively at Dixie and took a step back, hands slipping into his pockets, yielding the floor to Sherry.
Sherry's eyes crinkled. "How's it going, little one?"
"…" Dixie's dark, intense eyes fixed on Sherry. Her face held a look of deep concentration, as if carefully considering her answer.
"Hopelessly dumb," Rex interjected, tilting his head to crack his stiff neck muscles, answering for her. "But improving."
Dixie shot Rex a quick, surprised glance at the rare compliment.
"Oh? Is that so? Wonderful." Sherry smiled, propping her chin on her hand.
"…" Rex raised an eyebrow. He reached out casually, his large hand gripping the back of Dixie's neck. His assessing gaze traveled down her spine. "Honestly, Sherry, this decision of yours isn't exactly brilliant." His voice, close behind Dixie's ear, held its usual cruel edge. "Should've dumped her on that old Japanese tycoon. He'd lap her up."
Sherry kept her chin propped. She arched an eyebrow, her gaze shifting with keen interest to the rigid figure of Dixie, searching her face for any flicker of fear or panic.
She found none.
Pinioned by the neck, Dixie stared back. Her dark eyes held discomfort, tension, but an utter absence of fear.
"An intriguing suggestion, little one," Sherry said, her pale green eyes glinting with mischief, a sly smile forming. "What do you think?"
"…" Dixie stared at Sherry, mesmerized. Her lips parted, a faint "k" sound escaping before she snapped them shut again.
Rex, however, understood. He bared his teeth in a derisive snort. "Kill him? How? Bite his d*mn thing off?"
Dixie pressed her lips together, silent, letting Rex shake her slightly by the neck.
Silent again. That habit is infuriating. Sherry couldn't help but massage her temples. She leaned forward slightly, a look of weary amusement on her face. "Rex, you really have your hands full."
Rex gave a cold "Hah." He released Dixie's neck. "So? Watanabe? Think about it?"
"Give it a rest, darling," Sherry shrugged dramatically, offering a wry smile. "Even if she did bite it off, it'd cause us no end of trouble."
Rex clicked his tongue impatiently, shoving his hands back into his pockets.
The words had barely left her lips when hurried footsteps echoed outside the training hall. The door burst open. Will stumbled in, gasping for breath.
Seeing Sherry, relief flooded his face. "Sherry!! You're both here! Thank god!!"
"What is it?" Sherry steadied Will by his heaving shoulders.
"Lauren! Lauren's having a fit!!" Will managed, pointing frantically towards the door. "Jensen's trying to hold him! Hurry!!"
Sherry and Rex exchanged a sharp glance. Their expressions instantly hardened. Without a word, they pushed past Will, Sherry in the lead.
Sherry sprinted, her brow furrowed, pale green eyes narrowed with lethal calm. "Will, anyone else alerted?"
"Trying! The place is packed! All hands are swamped!"
Rex followed close behind, cursing under his breath. "Just what we f*cking need!"
"…" Dixie trailed them out of the training hall. Reaching the second-floor landing, she looked down. Chaos had erupted near the bar below.
A large white man was rampaging, roaring like a wild animal. His strength was terrifying. Even Jensen, equally imposing, was struggling to restrain him.
Women screamed and scrambled back. Even some men shied away from the frenzied Lauren.
Dixie recognized him instantly: the white man who'd pointed a gun at her days before.
Lauren roared, breaking Jensen's hold. He lunged towards the crowd. People screamed, surging backward in panic. Sherry leaped onto a table, vaulted over heads, and landed squarely. Two swift punches cracked Lauren's nose, sending blood flying.
Most men would have dropped. But Lauren seemed impervious to pain. Ignoring the blood gushing down his face, he wrapped his arms around Sherry's waist and slammed her viciously against the wall.
Sherry tasted blood, her vision blurring. She drove her elbow repeatedly into Lauren's spine.
Lauren choked out a guttural gasp, staggering back a step. Before he could slam her again, Rex arrived, locking an arm around his neck, hauling him backward with brute force.
"F*ck! Tranquilizer!!" Rex gritted his teeth, straining to contain the thrashing, roaring man. "Get Melissa!!"
Someone yelled frantic affirmations into a radio, screaming for Melissa.
Dixie watched, transfixed. Her pupils dilated, mirroring the chaos below. Her knuckles whitened on the railing, her breathing growing ragged.
Jensen, sporting fresh bruises, rushed to help Rex wrestle the howling Lauren. They stumbled, finally pinning him to the floor, only for Lauren to explode upward, throwing them off.
Jensen landed hard. Lauren roared, charging him. Sherry snatched up a nearby barstool and swung.
CRACK!
The stool connected with Lauren's head. Blood welled instantly. But the crazed man didn't falter. Ignoring the gash, he lunged, sinking his teeth deep into Jensen's neck.
GHAK!
"AAAGH!!!" Jensen's agonized scream ripped through the bar.