Fallon & Luca

by Soraya Naomi

  “You’ll answer all my questions?” I interrupt fiercely. “Nothing will be left unresolved. That time is over. I want to know everything.”

  “Yes. I’ll be here early, and I’ll call you later to ensure that you’re home safe.”

  I sigh in defeat. “I probably won’t answer.”

  His impatience with me is growing. “Answer your phone,” Luca demands, refusing to budge. And in a kinder tone, he adds, “I’d do it for your peace of mind if the roles were reversed.”

  I sidestep him to escape my apartment, but Luca’s fingers encircle my wrist, stopping me. I barely look back at him over my shoulder.

  “Good luck tonight. I’m proud of you,” he expresses in a soft voice. “I’ll give you all your answers tomorrow.”

  Our sad eyes meet before I close the door.

  ***

  Most of the guests are already seated at the venue and dinner is about to be served when I arrive. The restaurant has sixty round tables decorated with silver tablecloths and centerpieces of painted blue roses. I’m placed with my colleagues at a table for six next to Jason, who’s looking dashing in his tux.

  “Everything okay?” Jason notices my distressed state.

  “Yes, small disagreement. He’s not coming.” I glance at the empty seat next to me that’s reserved for Luca.

  Jason’s brows crease. “He’s not coming because of a disagreement?” he asks, not suppressing his judgmental tone. Jason’s date, our co-worker, Alexandra, overhears him and shoots me a supportive smile.

  I wave him off. “I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s enjoy our night.”

  I’m unable to discuss Luca without bursting into tears, so I try to stay in the present when the first course is served, but negativity engulfs me. Doubt is a treacherous feeling.

  Will Luca ever give me straight answers? Have I fallen for a man who’s woven an intricate web of lies to be with me? What’s been true since we met?

  Incapable of eating, I excuse myself from the table to visit the restroom and Jason follows me.

  “Fallon, go home if you’re not feeling well. I’ll cover for you if anyone asks, which I highly doubt will happen, because our work is done. We should be enjoying ourselves, and you obviously can’t. Go talk to Luca.” Jason hugs me, sensing my misery.

  Eyeing the restaurant, I only hesitate for a second. I do regret leaving Luca and should talk to him now, before he has an entire night to come up with new lies.

  “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Jason. I’m going now. Go back to your date.” I watch him return to his seat.

  Unfortunately for me, Alex is mingling with guests at the front entrance of the hotel and I need to avoid him, so I retreat from the foyer toward the second kitchen in the back of the hotel. I know – from spending the morning here – that only the main kitchen is being used for our event. I proceed down the hall to open the second kitchen’s door and go toward the fire exit where I press the handle down and exit into the alley, which is barely illuminated by a flickering light.

  I step outside and hear a faint thud, and in reflex, my gaze snaps to the back of the dim alley. Everything happens in fast forward from this point on. Two men are standing threateningly over a body as it slouches down next to the dumpster, and one of them has a gun in hand, angled at the person falling to the ground. At that exact moment, the door behind me slams shut, and both of them discover me and start moving in my direction.

  Gripped by waves of panic, I frantically search the door – no handle. It only opens from the inside. Now the men are maybe ten steps away, so I set off down the street. My heels are clicking urgently against the asphalt, and I don’t dare to look back. Terrified, I lose my footing and misstep halfway to the street, falling with my palms flat in front of me and scraping my knees open. I push myself back up as quickly as possible, but before I’m able to dart away, I’m raised off my feet with an arm around my waist and a hand sealing my mouth. I scream futilely, and the guy jerks my face to the side while I struggle in his hold, kicking out into the night air.

  Still, he drags me easily toward the back of the alley and stops at the dumpster, joining the other man, and I notice that they’re both dressed in designer suits.

  My stomach heaves from the pungent smell of trash and blood, which is seeping from the victim’s torso onto the ground. And to my astonishment, I recognize this dead man. He’s stopped by work often to visit Alex.

  The man restraining me leans in close to my ear. “Stop. Struggling.”

  The disgusting stench of liquor on his breath enhances my nausea, yet I signal that I’ll stay quiet, nodding my head to them.

  He moves his hand an inch away from my mouth, and the other man arches a brow, waiting for me to start screaming again. The one behind me kicks the back of my knees so that I collapse forward, the impact with the concrete scratching my already-bloodied knees.

  The other man yells, “Get a grip, asshole! I’m getting the car. Don’t hurt her any more! We have to take her with us now.” And he runs down the street.

  The guy that reeks of liquor rounds me and palms his mouth in frustration while pointing a gun at my forehead. His eyes are trained on me as he clutches his hair and suddenly backhands me in my face, the force of the blow resounding through my head. Then I’m propelled into unconsciousness when the butt of his gun knocks me out cold.

  CHAPTER 25

  Fallon

  I’m startled by angry male voices that sound far away. Yet I fail to open my eyes because my eyelids are too heavy, as if they’re sewn shut. No matter how hard I fight, they stay closed. So I focus on the voices, but it’s almost impossible to concentrate in my groggy frame of mind.

  No, stay conscious!

  I can’t feel anything – not my hands, not my legs. But I’m awake; I’m sure of it. Again, I will my eyes to open...Nothing. My frightened state is increasing as the seconds tick away and I’m stuck in my head with only my thoughts.

  Then I faintly hear the male voices again.

  “When will she wake up? She’s been out for too long.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t discuss that here and now in case the girl can hear us. And I’m very close to shooting you because I ordered you not to hurt her.”

  “Can’t we just dump her body somewhere?”

  Oh god, no. Who are these people? Where the hell am I?

  “Are you fucking kidding me? We don’t know who she is or what the fuck she was doing there. We need answers before we make another move. And you made the situation worse!”

  “Damian, I have to admit, she’s a cute little thing, gets my juices flowing. Can’t we have a little fun with her?”

  “No! Do not touch her until I figure this out.”

  The voices become shushed.

  “Frank, go see who’s at the front door.”

  I hear footsteps of someone walking away, and a door slams, startling me once more.

  “Fucking little shithead!”

  Silence stretches on until I suddenly feel a warm gust against my ear and someone whispers, “Did you just move, girl?”

  Before I can react, everything fades to black, and I lose consciousness again.

  ***

  I wake as coldness surrounds me. My head aches as I try to move, and I grimace when I pull on my bound left wrist, which is painfully cuffed to the bed railing above me in this small room with off-white walls, no windows, and a light bulb hanging from the ceiling. The bed is in the corner against the wall, and there’s a door a few feet away on my left.

  Sitting up, I drag the cuff to the middle of the railing as black spots overtake my eyesight for a moment. My dress is torn, and my knees are covered in dried blood. An almost imperceptible noise in the upper left corner of the room catches my attention – it’s a camera that turned when it sensed my movement.

  Unexpectedly, the door flies open and bangs against the wall. It’s him again: the guy that hit me. He staggers into the room, drunk.

  I swallow back the lump in my throat
as his predatory walk ignites my anxiety and his daunting smile makes me shiver in fear. Instantly, I scoot backward on the bed, even though I know I can’t hide.

  “You look scared, little lady.” His demeanor is blazing with malicious intent.

  I am scared but just stare at him. I won’t let him goad me, although I want to cry because I know he’s going to touch me. There’s nothing I can do, but I’ll fight him any way I can.

  “I think you need a good fuck. You were messing with business that has nothing to do with you, and you caused me trouble. You owe me.”

  I don’t acknowledge his words and attempt to sit as still as a statue while he towers over me and tilts his head.

  “I like my women to scream. I think you would scream when I fuck your ass. Wouldn’t you?” he insults and fists my hair, hauling me up.

  As I’m being forced to lunge up, the cuff on my left wrist rattles against the bed railing and I purse my lips together to keep from screaming because of the pain burning in my scalp. I’ll not give him that satisfaction. In my mind, I pray that this is just a horrible nightmare, that I’ll wake up any minute now. But I know it’s not – this is my reality. This is happening. The tears I’ve been desperately keeping inside wet my cheeks.

  I need to fight him.

  The smell of liquor lingering around him tells me he’s quite drunk and obviously can’t access his full strength, because after a few seconds, his hold on my hair loosens involuntarily. But he quickly recovers as I make a fist with my right hand.

  I will fight him. With all my power, I punch his nose, driving him backward.

  His hand goes up to his bleeding nose. “You fucking little bitch!” he spits and comes at me at full speed.

  We stumble back onto the bed, and my head collides with the railing, making me so dizzy that I momentarily see dozens of black and white stars, but determined to fight him off, I start thrashing like a madwoman, hoping to exhaust him in his drunken state. With my left hand restrained, I scream and kick, aiming for his balls, but I miss since he’s holding me down on the bed.

  “Stupid bitch.” He hits me in the stomach, and all the air is ripped from my lungs as I gasp for the breath that’s been beaten out of me.

  Leaning the weight of his entire body on me, he presses his arms on mine while he sits astride my legs, and I turn my head sideways to ensure that the blood that’s dripping from his nose doesn’t land in my eyes.

  All the while, my insides are wrenching with terror and my left arm is bent in an awkward position because of the cuff as throbbing cloaks my wrist, arm, and shoulder. He then presses harder on my cuffed arm, and I cry out in excruciating pain, which miraculously spurs me on as I don’t allow myself to wallow in it.

  “Get off me, asshole.” I maneuver my entire body and refuse to lie still.

  Although he’s much stronger than I am, his drunken haze has made him weaker, and I wriggle one leg free from underneath him by frantically jerking my hips up and down. Strands of hair obscure my view when the last pins fall out, and I harshly blow them out of my face as I keep shifting my body uncontrollably until I manage to push off the bed with my right leg. When I look down my side, I notice his phone dropping out of his pants pocket onto the bed, so I hurriedly hide it under the covers with my leg.

  Finally, he’s growing much weaker, and the pressure he’s putting on my arms lessens while he’s trying to kiss my neck, so I cock my right leg and lift my hip from the bed, throwing him off me, the back of his head hitting the concrete.

  “FUCK!” he yells.

  In turn, I’m frozen in shock, afraid I’ve caused even more trouble for myself.

  “I will have you later!” he threatens and gets up, rubbing his head, and slaps my face with the power of his fury.

  I recoil from the sting and keep my body still until he disappears. I force myself not to move for a few moments to make sure he doesn’t come back, counting to thirty in my head, trembling throughout. I’m hurt. I’m crying. I’m terrified. Every area of my skin is covered in sweat, and I can’t think about anything but using the guy’s phone to call for help.

  After reaching thirty, I roam my hand over the sheets to try to find it, until I remember the camera in the room and vainly breathe in to calm myself. I roll onto my right side, blocking what I’m doing from the camera while ignoring the pain the movement causes in my cuffed left arm, and as inconspicuously as possible, continue to search for the phone. When my fingertips touch something hard, I grab it, bringing it as close to my body as possible.

  It’s a smartphone with touchscreen, and I hold it near my eyes and press the numbers with my thumb, misdialing repeatedly with my incessant trembling. I almost get the numbers correct on my third attempt before I hear a noise outside the room. Someone’s coming.

  The door creaks open, and I immediately let the phone slide out of my hand onto the pillow and plant it under my hair as I lie there with my back toward the door. Shit. Did he see the phone? Did he see me move?

  Footsteps approach the bed while I’m sweating profusely and using all my power not to shudder in fear.

  He’s coming back for his phone.

  “Can’t let you have my alcohol, bitch.” I hear the slosh of liquid in a bottle. He’s standing behind me and taking a swig.

  The guy who tried to assault me has returned, but I don’t remember him coming in before with a drink or a bottle. Nevertheless, I’m motionless with my eyes sealed shut as my tears trickle down.

  Please, please, please leave!

  I’ve been holding my breath since he came back.

  He must’ve seen the phone. He’s toying with me.

  Anxiety almost swallows me whole when there’s no movement.

  After what feels like an eternity but must be mere seconds, he finally strolls out. The door closes, and I let out the air I’ve been holding, my breathing erratic from the panic boiling in my blood. Yet again, I force myself to wait before grabbing the phone. My vision is blurred from my tears as I sit up, facing the wall, and press the last number of the person I want to reach.

  “Please, hurry and pick up,” I murmur with an unsteady voice, continuing to disregard the pain in my restrained arm.

  When I hear the ringtone coming from outside the room, my entire body stills. Confused, I look at the phone and then bring it up to my ear again. Somehow, the ringtone becomes clearer. Then the door unlocks, and the ringtone is now in the room with me, so I spin around with the phone pressed to my ear, and my world stops.

  The adrenalin that’s been shooting through my veins since the drunk guy entered the room recedes. Every molecule of my existence is drenched in stunned silence. Time moves on but stops in my mind while I’m wearily trying to understand what’s happening. As I face the person darkening the doorway, the phone slides out of my hand and drops to the ground with a loud crash. And the ringing of the other phone stops that instant.

  CHAPTER 26

  Luca

  Gravel crunches beneath the tires of my car as I approach the circular driveway of our headquarters, feeling exhausted. For a few minutes, I merely glare at the house. This place, this life I’ve wanted to keep hidden from Fallon. I do have the entire night to prepare myself but hate that she didn’t want me waiting at her condo. Though I have no idea how I’m going to reveal everything tomorrow morning. How do I tell Fallon the truth?

  When everything one wants slowly slips away, a person can amaze himself by how far he’d go to keep it. She’s everything I want, but she’s the one I deceived most. It was the only way to keep her safe, away from my merciless world.

  On the drive back here, I relived our argument repeatedly. There was something strange about her reaction, and it’s still bothering me as I pass the guard at the front door, who dips his chin to greet me. As I move through the hall, I hear a commotion coming from the basement and a door slams. Can’t these guys be quiet for one fucking minute?!

  I need to wind down in seclusion, so I ignore the sounds and march up the gra
nd stairs, in search of Adriano so that he can brief me on his soldier’s assignment from earlier tonight. Chances are, he’s enjoying himself with Cam.

  I visit the strip club to check out what’s going on there. Pushing open the door, I see Adriano getting a lap dance from a topless woman – not Cam – on the sofa.

  As I lean against the doorway, the woman, seeing me first, looks up from his groin and freezes. I jerk my chin toward the other exit, silently demanding her to leave, and she scrambles away.

  Adriano slowly buttons his dress shirt. “Buonasera, Luca. Care to join us?”

  “Us?” I ask, frowning.

  He scans the empty room and snorts. “Well, I guess the men have each retreated to a private room.”

  “Adriano,” I calmly say. “Come to my office. I want details from Damian. Now.”

  While walking to the other side of the second floor, Adriano calls Damian and then informs me when he hangs up, “He’s coming. He was in the basement.”

  Damian was making that noise.

  “You didn’t talk to him yet?” I’m annoyed that Adriano didn’t debrief his own soldier, but I don’t show it.

  “No. He didn’t call in,” he confirms.

  We enter my mahogany furnished office that contains a desk, which is situated in front of the window and holds my computer and two laptops, three padded chairs, and a beverage table in the corner next to the door.

  I strip my charcoal suit jacket and hang it over the back of my desk chair before sitting down.

  “What’s wrong?” Adriano asks as he falls into the seat across from me.

  My friend obviously senses my mood. “We’ll talk later.” I open my laptop, type in my password, and immediately access the live feed of the entire house. What’s going on in that basement?

  Damian appears in the doorway, visibly distraught. He’s been sweating, which isn’t a good sign.

  I lean back in my chair and signal for him to sit. “What happened?”