Chapter 22 #2
I scanned the crowd, looking for my bodyguard, but the VIP section was roped off and the bouncers weren’t letting anyone through without tickets. Xavier was probably stuck outside, trying to talk his way in.
Bridget went to get drinks while Oliver leaned close to my ear. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? We can find somewhere quieter if you really need a night out.”
“I want to spend more time with her,” I half-shouted over the music. “Get to know her better.”
“Here we are!” Bridget reappeared, balancing three martini glasses precariously in her hands. I quickly grabbed one before she could drop them. “Thanks—can you tell I was never a server?”
I laughed and sipped my drink. The alcohol burned my throat. It had been a while since I’d had anything this strong, and my eyes watered. Oliver downed his quickly, and I followed suit, letting it slide down my throat to minimize the sting. It hit my stomach with a pleasant warmth.
I grimaced at the odd, slightly salty aftertaste. “I forgot what a snob I am,” I joked. “I prefer wine to martinis.”
Bridget laughed and stepped backward—straight into someone, her drink sloshing over her hand. “Hey, watch it!”
My heart lurched, not wanting a confrontation, but the guy just apologized and moved on. Bridget glared after him while Oliver grabbed napkins from the bar. “Let me get you another one,” he offered.
I stared out at the dance floor while they dealt with the spill. The mass of bodies moved together in an undulating wave, almost like a single organism. Like kelp swaying in an ocean current…
That wasn’t right.
I tilted my head. Everything seemed shinier than it had a moment ago. The fabric of women’s dresses caught the strobe-colored lights in ways that seemed almost... magical.
I did feel more relaxed. I reached for Oliver’s hand and drifted toward the dance floor, but Bridget intercepted, looping her arm through mine, tugging me along.
Oliver’s sleeve slipped from my grasp—it felt oddly loose, like my fingers had forgotten how to grip.
I opened my mouth to say something, but we were already swallowed by the crowd.
Bridget spun me to face her and the motion made me dizzy. I tried to grin but wasn’t sure if I succeeded. Her red hair and long limbs moved hypnotically. I swayed on my feet, not quite dancing, just... watching.
“Hey.” Bridget grabbed my shoulders. “You okay?”
I blinked. Slowly. “I think... something’s wrong.”
I’d never tried hard drugs, so I couldn’t compare, but I’d had plenty of alcohol and it had never hit like this. Something was very, very off.
“Why don’t we get you to the bathroom? You look pale.” Bridget steered me through the crowd.
“Where’s Oliver?” I tried to ask, but my tongue was thick and heavy, my words slurred.
Everything around me was blurring, shiny and colorful like a fever dream. I felt oddly relaxed despite the churning in my stomach, despite the growing certainty that something was terribly wrong.
The drink. The salty aftertaste. I’d been drugged.
Bridget guided me into the hallway leading to the bathrooms. The glowing red EXIT sign over the back door seemed to pulse—closer, then farther, then closer again.
“Something’s... really wrong...” I slurred, pressing my fingers to my forehead.
“I know,” Bridget said.
But she didn’t sound worried. She sounded weirdly triumphant.
“Let’s get you some fresh air,” she insisted. “Come on.”
She pushed through the back door and the night air hit my face, but it didn’t clear my head. I felt like I wasn’t in control of my limbs anymore—helpless, only able to go where she led me.
“Vegas clubs are terrible at security,” Bridget said conversationally as she half-dragged me down the dark back alley.
My legs were giving out. Bridget looped an arm around my waist and pulled my other arm over her shoulder. “Just a little further…”
The parking lot materialized around us. I felt like I’d blinked and missed the journey. “I think…I…might have…been… roofied...” I managed, trying to fight the lethargy taking over.
“Give the girl a prize!” Bridget replied cheerfully.
I sucked in a shocked breath, trying to make sense of…everything. “Why…”
“Because Charles Hayward needs to pay for what he did to my father,” she said bitterly. “A life for a life.”
Terror and confusion seized me as she led me to the sleek black rental car—the one that had been parked next to hers—and popped the trunk.
“Gotta love that sign,” she said, pointing to the one posted against the brick wall.
‘This lot is not under surveillance. Not responsible for stolen property.’ No cameras, no evidence. ”
I tried to fight, tried to wrench myself free, but my arms only flopped uselessly at my sides. Bridget laughed and rolled me into the trunk like I weighed nothing, then retrieved my phone from my purse and tossed it somewhere outside of the car.
“Y’know, I was pissed that you brought Oliver,” she said, almost conversationally. “But he’s probably causing a great distraction right now since I roofied him, too. I’m sure someone will call an ambulance for him once he collapses, but nobody even noticed you leaving.”
“Please...” The word sounded garbled to my own ears. Please don’t do this.
Bridget smiled down at me, her face haloed by the glow of distant streetlights. “Sweet dreams, princess.”
She slammed the trunk shut and plunged me into absolute darkness.