Chapter 5
chapter five
LEO
I sigh as I swirl amber liquid around the bottom of this impeccably shiny glass. I shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be drinking at all, but at least I’m not drinking from the bottle anymore.
After my meeting with Emilio, going over potential buyer opportunities, I needed this. I spent the day narrowing down options and choosing who to meet with tomorrow. But in reality, I don’t want to meet any of them. I want this entire process to be over and done with.
Just as I swallow down the rest of my drink and look for the bartender, my phone buzzes atop the small table I sit at in the corner of the bar, and the name that flashes on my screen is the last one I expected to see.
Marisol.
The girl I’ve been madly in love with since I was a teenager.
Rafael’s sister.
Meaning that since finding out about my young crush, he’s been eyeing me every time I’m in the vicinity of his sister. Not that it happens very much. I’ve only seen her a couple of times in the last few years. Enough to know that said crush hasn’t gone anywhere.
I pick up my phone, hesitantly swiping to answer because why would she be calling me?
“Hello?”
I can hear heavy breathing on the other side of the line, and the hairs on the back of my neck prick up, my back straightening as I tune into the sound of music pumping in the background.
“Marisol?”
I hear a noise that lands somewhere between a gasp and a groan. “Leo?” Her speech is slurred, and my mind starts racing. “Did you pick up?”
“I picked up. Where are you?”
She takes far too long to respond, giving me time to tune into the sound of people yelling and the steady beat of drum and bass in the background.
“I—” she breathes, and I hear what sounds like her bumping into something.
“I th-think…” She lets out a sharp breath, her voice turning worried when she speaks again. “Leo, I think something’s wrong.”
I stand, throwing cash on the table before I push my way out the door. “Where are you?”
“I was at La Sirena, but…I can’t remember if we left.” Her words quickly become panicked, and so does her breathing. “I can’t remember anything, Leo.” My name tears from her throat with a sob, and she might as well have shot an arrow into my chest.
“Stay where you are, okay, Marisol?” I slam my car door shut and start the engine before I even get my seatbelt on. “I’m coming to get you.”
* * *
Fear surges through me, the kind that I haven’t felt in a long time, as I walk straight up to the bouncer standing outside the door of La Sirena, one of the most popular nightclubs in Sorrento.
It attracts high-class guests with its beautiful ambience and the city’s best DJs, but it’s also known as one of the safest clubs in Sorrento.
Security guys stand face to face with a mob of paparazzi at the curb, waiting for a snap of whatever low-level celebrity they’re after tonight.
The bouncer laughs as I try to move past him. “Nice try, amico. But you’re going to have to wait like everyone else.”
“Like hell I am,” I spit. “My friend is in there, and she’s hurt, so either you let me in, or I go straight to those guys over there,” I nod my head back toward where the paparazzi stand, “and I tell them how a woman got hurt in this club tonight. See if they run it in the papers, shall I?”
I see the clench in his jaw the moment he decides to let me through. I don’t wait to listen to the people complaining that I skipped the line, heading straight into the crowd of people dancing in the dim blue and purple lights.
I push through the warm bodies, my eyes searching for long, dark hair and equally long legs, but I don’t see Marisol anywhere.
“Care to dance, carino?” Fingers decorated with pink nail polish sweep over my shoulder.
“No, grazie,” I say, removing the woman’s hand from my shoulder without taking my eyes away from my search.
I need to think.
She wasn’t on the dance floor when she called. There’s no way she would’ve been able to hear me, or me her. She was tucked away somewhere. Somewhere she could still hear the music, but away from the fold.
I break out of the crowd, heading straight for the bar. “Hey.” I click in the face of the bartender when he doesn’t pay me any attention. “Hey!”
He frowns as soon as he sees me leaning over the bar. “Have you seen a woman—tall, long brown hair, the most beautiful girl you’ve probably ever seen?”
“Dude.” He shakes his head with a smile. “I see a lot of beautiful girls in here.”
“Her name is Marisol,” I say, and he shrugs. But the girl sitting on the bar stool beside me swivels her seat around to face me, her eyes narrow as she looks at me.
“Why are you looking for Marisol?” she says. The tall, stocky man behind her cages her in with an arm leaning on the bar, the other playing with her silky black hair.
“Have you seen her?”
She cocks her head in confusion. “And who the fuck are you again?”
I have to hold in a groan. “Where the fuck is she?”
My tone must surprise her, because she rears back, and the man takes a step forward, eyeing me up as his chest puffs out.
“I haven’t seen her in a while. She was here with us and…” She shakes her head as her eyes screw shut. “I assumed she left with that guy.”
“What guy?”
“I don’t know!” The girl’s shoulders rise to her ears as her eyes widen. “A guy was talking to her. I thought they went home together, I—”
She looks to the guy behind her, but he doesn’t take his eyes from me.
She’s with a guy. Or was. Did he leave her here? Or did he take her somewhere?
I try to calm my racing heart, try to clear my mind, spinning with the sound of her voice. It was slurred. She’s either drunk beyond reason, or she’s taken something else—or been given something else.
Jesus Christ.
She was still here when she called me, but that was nearly ten minutes ago. So much can happen in that time. Too much.
I make my way through the club, turning the corner that leads down a hallway, and when I don’t see her, I almost start to panic, but I know better.
I take a breath and let myself fall back into the version of myself that I know so well.
The very version I’m running from. I switch on the part of my brain that I haven’t used in over a year.
The tactical part, the strategic part. The part that used to keep people safe and eliminate anyone who threatened that notion.
I charge down the hall, knocking firmly on the door that leads to the women’s bathroom. “Marisol?” I yell. But I get no response, just two girls rushing out the door and back into the club as they glare at me.
I curse as I barge inside. Fuck the consequences, they’re not important right now. But I find the bathroom empty. Except for the little black purse thrown on the marble vanity.
I don’t hesitate to rifle through it. I pull out the small wallet, and when I latch onto the driver’s license and see Marisol’s face, my stomach drops. “Fuck.”
I take the bag with me as I push on the door, finding myself in the hallway once more. My heart pounds in my chest. This is not how tonight is going to end. I need to find her.
My eyes catch on the lit-up sign above the emergency exit, and I wonder if Marisol’s did too. I stride toward it, the door groaning as I push it open.
And then I see her.
I rush forward as my breath tumbles out of my lungs. I take in her crumpled form against the exterior wall, her head lolled back against the concrete. Two girls crouch in front of her, pushing her hair from her face and trying to talk to her.
My mind is a flaming ball of anger and a sharp blade of worry all at once. “Move,” I bark as I stride toward them. The girls snap to standing as soon as they hear my voice.
“What happened?” I ask as I drop to my knees, my hands finding Marisol’s face. Her skin is clammy, her eyes closed.
“We don’t know, we just found her here,” one of them prattles on as my mind conjures up the images of every single possibility. I feel sick. I feel sorry.
“We didn’t want to leave her alone,” the other girl adds.
I let out a sigh of relief as her brown eyes flutter open, and I let my voice soften as I turn to face them, not taking my hands off Marisol for a second. “Thank you.”
Both of them nod as they link their arms together before escaping down the alley. I don’t wait a second before turning back to the woman in front of me.
“Marisol?” I say, tucking her hair behind her ears, the small wisps damp with moisture. “It’s me. It’s Leo.”
“Leo?” she breathes, her hand weakly reaching out for me. “You came?”
I grasp her hand in mine and squeeze. “Of course I came.” It didn’t even cross my mind to do anything but come to her. She called me.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I th-thought maybe fresh air could help?” Her voice is shaky, the word help accompanied by a quiver of her chin.
I smooth it over with my thumb as my eyes fall closed. It makes sense, I suppose, except for the fact that out here, she is completely exposed. Completely vulnerable.
A shaky smile pulls at her lips before I hear the sound of the exit door once more, followed by stilettos clipping against the pavement.
“Oh my god, Marisol!” I whip my head around to see the girl I was talking to at the bar, the guy she was with now nowhere to be seen. “Is she okay?” she asks me once she gets close, her wide eyes roaming over where Marisol sits slumped against the wall.
“Why the fuck did you leave her alone?” I snap, my voice flooded with all the roiling emotions triggered from the moment her name appeared on my screen. Anger, fear, terror, and even guilt. Because something happened to her, and I couldn’t stop it.
“I—I thought she was fine!” she stutters. “She said she was fine…I thought she was safe.”
“Well, she obviously wasn’t fine.”
The woman doesn’t slink away at my harsh tone. She drops down next to me. “Was she…”
“Drugged,” I say. I’ve seen it before, too many times to count. Women slipped a date rape drug without knowing it. One minute, they’re having a fun night with their friends, and the next, they don’t remember a single thing except the feeling of panic or confusion. “More than that, I’m not sure.”
“Sabrina?” Marisol mumbles, and the girl beside me does something between a laugh and a sob as she leans forward.
“I’m here, cara. I’m here with…” She looks at me, her gaze flickering with confusion as she realizes she has no idea who I am.
“Leo,” I say.
Her eyes light with recognition. “You’re Leo?”
My eyes narrow. “Yeah…” Why does this girl know my name?
Marisol hums, catching both of our attention. “We need to get her out of here,” Sabrina says, looking down the alley as a group of girls stumbles down the street, their laughs echoing around us. “She can come stay at mine, I jus—”
“I’m taking her to my place where she’ll be safe.” Sabrina sinks back, her cheeks deepening with embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” I add. “I didn’t mean to imply she wouldn’t be safe with you.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “It’s fine. I’ll catch a cab. Do you need a hand getting her to your car?”
“I think we’ll be alright,” I say as I slip my arm around her back. She doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around my neck, burrowing her head into my chest as I hook my other arm under her legs, holding her as close to me as possible.
“Can you text me when you get back ?” she asks. “I’m the emergency contact in her phone.”
Well, that’s slightly concerning.
“Just to let me know you got her back safe and sound?”
“Sure,” I say before marching down the alley, leaving Sabrina to watch us go.
Marisol clings to me, as if her mind is still foggy, but her body knows I’m the safest place she could be. It has me wondering why she called me, why she didn’t call Sabrina, who was here with her. My mind races with the idea that her foggy brain went straight to me.
I can’t help but wonder what happened to her before I got there.
Whether the person who left her like this laid hands on her, or whether she got away before she called me.
I feel sick thinking about it, left with no one to tell me what happened here tonight, and wishing I could’ve gotten here faster.
The warm evening air pushes against us as we turn the corner. Marisol groans and grips me harder as the wave of air hits her clammy skin. I hold her even tighter, whispering into her hair as I head toward my car. “We’re nearly home.”
My apartment is far from home, but it can be home for tonight.
A frenzy of bright flashes has me turning away from where people yell over at us from their spot at the curb.
The paparazzi.
“Miss Deo!”
“Did you drink too much tonight, Marisol?”
My head pounds as I grit my teeth at the accusations and questions being thrown across the pavement at us. I stride toward my car, holding Marisol’s head against my chest, trying my best to shield her from the vultures, but they don’t stop.
Even as I strap her into the back seat of my car and shut the door, their cameras keep flashing. They follow us all the way down the street until I turn the corner.
Even then, I can still see the flash in the dark when I close my eyes.