Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
Behind the bar, adrenaline and dread spike through me as I secretly palm a knife, and use my other hand to pour out the cocktails I very, very slowly made.
You can do this. If it comes down to it, cutting a person is like cutting cake. Think of all these nefarious people as having cake faces. You’re not slicing them up. It’s all cake. Jab, jab, jab the cake.
“Finally. The drinks are done,” says Elevator Man, coming over to loom over me, as if somehow sensing my plan to fight my way out of the room. “Serve us,” he orders.
In the most awkward way ever, I one-handedly give him a glass.
The long counter separating us might be boxing me in, but it also hides the weapon I’ve picked up.
Even so—I’m not quite ready to leave this corner sanctuary for once I do, there will be consequences.
Chaos. Danger. Perhaps further talking my way out of things will help…
Elevator Man pulls out a pill from his pocket and drops it into the pink liquid of my cocktail. There is fizz.
“You first,” he says, pushing it back toward me. “Drink up.”
There is laughter around us.
Hell no .
I tense my muscles, ready to attempt all kinds of evasive and aggressive maneuvers when the main door slams open. Swiveling towards the noise, and everything—literally everything that was coiled, sharp, and shaking inside me—sags.
“You—you’re here?” I whisper.
He stalks inside the room. Cold eyes track over the two men on couches, the topless Fox server lingering in the background, Elevator Man, and then they land on me.
Whatever disinterested expression he was wearing slips.
Luke’s eyes dart up and down what parts of my body he can see.
Three times. Four. There are no visible injuries, but he keeps taking inventory.
“Are you okay?”
That’s Sistine asking. She’s come into the suite behind him, along with a man I don’t recognize. Judging by his all-black outfit, muscled build, short brown hair, the scar bisecting his eyebrow—bodyguard is a good guess.
“Yes!” I tell Sistine, “but I’m also really ready to go now. Shall we leave? Immediately perhaps?”
“Wait. We thought you were having fun,” says Daniel. “Once we heard she’s your chef, Abbot, we asked her to make us some drinks.”
“Since Luke Abbot always hires the best,” says Dmitri. “We were hoping to get a little sampler.”
The two goons are already standing, experiencing an obvious weighing of odds, trying to sense whether leaving or staying will be more profitable for them.
Elevator Man hasn’t moved.
“Rita is right. Let’s go home,” says Sistine to Luke, parking herself by the exit. “I tire of this lame party.”
“Or the women can go,” says Elevator Man. “Why don’t we have a drink together and catch up, Abbot?”
My hand darts over to the drugged cocktail sitting on the bar top. The liquid tips over and pools everywhere. “Oops. Sorry. Hand cramp. Didn’t mean to do that.”
You aren’t drugging him, creep!
Elevator Man hisses.
Before he can react further, I decide it’s finally okay to abandon my corner. Out in the open again, both my hands are visible. I know because Luke is now absorbed by one of them. I look down. Oh, right. The knife I’ve got gripped as a weapon. He’s seen it, his expression turning to stone.
“Your chef is clumsy,” says Elevator Man.
“She must be in training. I should say my secretary has tried to call your office numerous times, but you haven’t returned any of the calls.
Must be another one of your employees in training.
Either way, it’s good we can connect.” Elevator Man is smiling.
“I’m not sure if you know this, but our grandfathers knew each other quite well?—”
Luke walks over to stand in front of me. “Did anyone touch you?”
“N-no.”
My eyes twitch over, so briefly and automatically to Elevator Man, before I force myself to look away.
Does extreme intimidation count? Because he’s definitely done that. And repeat coercion to consume drugs.
“No,” I repeat. Details are not worth delaying our departure over.
Luke frowns. “You’re lying.”
“Not really.”
“Hey, I’m talking to you,” Elevator Man snaps. “Don’t turn your back on me.”
Luke’s finger gently skims over my wrist. “This knife?—”
“Precaution.”
“Okay. Go stand by Sistine. She will get you out of here safely.”
“What? Why? What are you going to?—”
Luke takes off his suit jacket and drops it over the arm of an empty couch. He’s uncuffing his sleeves and rolling them up.
“Don’t do this,” begs Sistine.
Do what? I wonder, frozen in my spot. Surely he’s not going to…
“Why?” sputters Elevator Man.
Luke’s answer is short. As if three words explain everything that is about to happen next. “You scared her.”
“Yeah, but she’s your cook. Who cares about someone like her? She’s beneath our station. Beneath everyone. Not worth anything, let alone you fighting over me harassing her?—”
Luke strides up to Elevator Man, and gracefully rams his fist upward. A broken nose starts the fight. Elevator Man swears, retreating backwards. Dmitri comes out of nowhere, launching his own attack on Luke. Daniel has fled, apparently clutching onto self-preservation.
Dmitri gets a few gut punches in on Luke, before Luke’s foot targets his knee cap so he crumples to the ground. But then a knife is bought out. Switchblade.
Everything has escalated so rapidly .
Judging by the frantic flurry of his swings, Dmitri is operating more out of panicky instinct than any skill. Luke avoids a particularly wide slash, having enough space to grip the wrist with the knife in it and bend it backward.
The weapon drops with a scream.
Seeing as both Luke’s arms are engaged in stopping Dmitri, Elevator Man dives in.
“Stop!” I think I’ve been yelling this whole time, but only hear that one coherent word out of my mouth.
Elevator Man is wearing rings. His punch cuts the side of Luke’s mouth. It’s bleeding enough to stain the collar of his shirt. Not that Luke reacts. He’s unbothered. Trained , I realize more accurately.
Still, it’s unfairly two against one until Sistine’s bodyguard tries to join in.
“Don’t,” snarls Luke, not taking his eyes off the fight. “Protect Rita and Sistine. Stay with them.”
The bodyguard obeys, catching my arm as I try getting closer. There is no way Luke should be fighting alone!
Luke hits Dmitri hard enough that he drops to the floor again.
“You bastard,” yells Elevator Man. “You are going to pay for that.”
The way they circle and come at each other is professional. Arms and hands shielding more often than not, feet moving all loose, and strikes when they happen are vicious.
How long will this go on for? What is this night? What kind of world have I unknowingly entered?
Dmitri intends to end it. He scurries on his knees towards his dropped knife.
Since the fight has moved from its original spot, it’s more than a few feet away.
My gut bottoms. If he gets the knife, and Luke doesn’t see it…
I wrangle myself away from the bodyguard, only possible because he’s relaxed his grip, wrongly assuming I’d be crazy to involve myself. A strong lurch forward and I’m running to Dmitri, stomping on his hand right as his fingers curl over the handle of the switchblade.
“You bitch!” He snaps his head up and sneers.
Before he can attack, the bodyguard comes over and hits him hard. Dmitri loses consciousness.
I’m gasping. My heart races and everything feels overblown.
I look up in time to see Luke get a close-range chokehold on Elevator Man.
Arms lock in around his neck. Airflow shrinks.
Biceps strain. Luke doesn’t stop until his opponent is knocked out.
Then he drops the man with unnecessary vigor, and steps over his body.
“I’m never letting you out of my sight again,” he says, approaching me, his eyes wild and vivid.
“And you,” he says to Sistine, who is still standing by the exit. “We talked about you going to these kinds of events, and we’re going to talk about it again.”
“ I was safe. I had Adam with me this whole time.”
Before more can be said, a crowd of people rush into the suite.
The property’s management and security team have arrived.
The next few minutes pass by, but not in the way I assumed they would.
Luke is not arrested, despite the still-breathing-but-beaten and unconscious men on the floor around him.
No, property management is apologizing to him .
Saying they reviewed the video footage, had no idea I was a close associate of his, and that the men on the floor would have their membership revoked for bothering Luke Abbot.
Amongst even the wealthy, my employer is in the upper echelons of the business world.
Surreal. Out-of-body. What is going on with this night?
“How can we compensate you for this terrible experience?” asks a visibly nervous manager to Luke. “If you care to follow me, our team would love to situate you and your guests in our VIP lounge?—”
“No. We’re leaving. Take us to the roof.”
“Right away, sir.” He leads us out of the suite, through a secure door, and down an empty corridor.
The roof? Although that’s not the first question on my mind. “How did you get here so fast?” I ask Luke. He was on a trip somewhere outside the city limits tonight.
He places a firm hand against the middle of my back as we get into an elevator. The manager activates it with his badge.
“After you hung up on me and stopped picking up,” Luke says, raising his eyebrow in a certain way, silently signaling we’ll be having a conversation about that later. “I flew the helicopter over.”
“You— flew —okay. But how did you know where?—”
“We can track each other’s phones,” says Sistine, answering for him. “For emergency purposes. I’m guessing he looked up where mine was.”