23. Anders
Anders
“ S hut it down,” Paul, the Chief of Police’s, stern voice booms throughout the Grand Room.
He, along with multiple officers, Mick, the security guards, and Carmela, are gathered around the area. The officers keep side-eyeing those of us who are still in costume, most of us covered in that fucking corn syrup mess.
If another one undresses Carmela with their eyes, we’re gonna have another dead body on our hands. There was time to get her robe, but not for any of us to clean up before they arrived.
“I agree,” Mick echoes. His arms are crossed over his chest as he stares at a random spot on the floor. One look at the body, and he puked his guts out. His pallor is still a sickly gray .
“I’m sorry, Miss Lane. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this,” Paul apologizes.
Next to me, Carmela shakes her head and tightens her robe around her. “I understand. Honestly, I think it’s what’s best for a while.”
A forensic team emerges from the Desires hall, briefly talking with Paul before leaving the premises with their gathered evidence. It’s the first of many trips they’re going to have to take. And Carmela will have to allow them access to the club whenever they’ll need it.
“We’ll get you some contacts for a good cleaning service when they’ve gotten everything they need,” Paul says as he turns to Mick, who only nods in return.
I hear Carmela snort beside me, and when I look over, she’s glaring at the senator. My eyes drift to Luca, huddled against the wall, watching everyone irritably. He’s been snappy all night, giving short, clipped answers when questioned about where he was leading up to when he tackled whoever hauled off Carmela.
It’s interesting that in a crowd that dense, he was able to come to her rescue easily.
Almost like it was planned.
“Great. Well, if that’s all you need from me tonight then have a good evening, gentlemen.” Carmela’s tone is dry and borders on sarcastic, but I have a feeling she will fall apart once she’s back in her office.
She directs security to do various tasks before turning to leave, not bothering to say anything to Luca before disappearing down the hall to her office, Mick on her heels. Luca watches them go, his angry eyes gliding to mine the moment they're out of sight.
“What are you looking at?” he sneers.
Curling my lip, I shake my head and turn to follow Cara. “Absolutely nothing.”
Her office door is still open when I get there. “...and I don’t want this carrying over. We have to take this more seriously. You have to take this more seriously,” Mick’s voice filters out into the hall.
“I know!” Carmela sounds like she’s on the verge of tears.
I step into the room and go to the bathroom where Carmela is angrily scrubbing her skin with a wet cloth. Her tits are bouncing, shaking the chains that attach her collar to her pasties, and even though the entire club saw her tonight, a snarl rips through me when I catch Mick staring.
He rolls his eyes, turning away as I take the cloth from her. “Relax, baby girl. Breathe,” I instruct, dipping the cloth beneath the spray of warm water. She crosses her arms over her chest, silent tears creating tracks in the fake blood on her face.
Crouching down, I help her out of her boots before bringing the wet cloth to her thighs. “Are you okay? Were you hurt?”
“No,” she manages. “Just shaken up.”
As I clean the fake blood from the back of her upper left thigh, I realize as soon as I clear some away, it’s replaced by more. I try again, watching more carefully as real blood seeps from a cut just below the cheek of her butt. “What the fuck?”
“What is it?” she asks in alarm, twisting around to look at me.
“Cara, you’re cut.” I pull the skin taut, revealing a smooth slash. It’s not deep enough to be fatal—it probably clotted and reopened when I began cleaning her skin—but it’s an odd place for a random cut.
“What?” she sounds panicked.
“What do you mean she’s cut?” Mick questions, turning back around and storming over. He towers over me, trying to see what I’m talking about.
“I mean exactly what the fuck I just said. This is too clean to have been an accident. Did you feel this when it happened?” Her surprise means she probably didn’t. Her adrenaline was probably sky-high all night.
Her eyes turn glassy momentarily. “Yeah, right after I told you where we were over Martin’s radio. It was just a pinch, but when I turned around, no one was there. When I felt it, I thought it was just corn syrup. ”
I look up to see her bottom lip trembling. She’s trying so hard to keep it together. Standing, I pull her into my arms, forcing Mick to back up a few steps. “You’re okay, baby girl. I got you.”
“What if that was him tonight?” she sobs. “I could have… God, Anders, what about Maya?”
“Shh,” I soothe, rubbing her back. “You’re safe. Nothing is going to happen to you.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Brooks. I was told you chose to get in a fight, and that’s when she was grabbed,” Mick says disdainfully.
“I was protecting her! Why don’t you go out and have words with security and ask why so many people were let in tonight, huh? Or how about questioning Jace to see why people were drunk?” Rage flows through me at his accusation.
“If you think–”
“STOP! Just stop fighting!” Carmela interrupts. “Mick, can you just go? Please?”
Maybe it’s the way she pleads or the fact that she’s still crying, but after a pause, Mick nods sharply. “Sure, Mellie. I’ll go.” He turns awkwardly, before stopping with his back to us. “Maybe it’s best if you go, too. Get out of the city for a few days. Take Maya somewhere warm. Just until it’s safe again. I’m sure Sadie would love to see you.”
I don’t know who Sadie is, but Carmela seems to get the message and nods. The second the door latches behind him, she falls apart in my arms.
Later, once we clean up and make sure Lenni is alright keeping Maya overnight, we lay in bed on our sides facing each other. “So, where does this Sadie live?”
“Florida. But I don’t really feel like seeing them right now. It still feels too close.” Carmela’s voice is smaller than I’ve ever heard her speak. Not just the volume, but the tone. She feels violated. The club doesn’t feel safe to her anymore.
Her home was infiltrated, and she was powerless to stop it.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Carmela, it’s that she hates feeling helpless.
An idea hits me—a selfish one. I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t crossed my mind numerous times over the last few weeks.
Reaching over, I wipe a stray hair off her face. “What about if we went to California?”
Her eyes snap from the duvet to mine, shock registered in her dark irises. “California?”
“Yeah. Have you ever been? We could take Maya to Disneyland. Or Universal if she thinks she’s too old for Disney,” I lightly joke.
She mulls over the information, yawning while she thinks. Leaning over, I kiss her forehead and pull the blanket up to her chin. “Think about it. For now, get some sleep.”
I love you.
The unspoken words come unbidden, taking me by surprise.
I lay awake for hours, contemplating the repercussions of the phrase. I’ve never uttered those words to a woman other than my mother and grandmother.
I never even said them to Mariana.
The ease with which they sprang to mind regarding Carmela only solidifies what I’ve been feeling for a while.
Does she feel the same way? Will telling her how I feel scare her?
As I watch her sleep, I make up my mind. If she agrees to go to California for a little while, I will tell her how I feel. I don’t want to waste any more time. If there’s one thing I learned from Mariana, it’s that no one is guaranteed a tomorrow.
And I want to spend as many tomorrows with Carmela as I can.