by Soraya Naomi
“Fine. Mr. Montesi is coming too,” I inform and signal to Adriano, who was already watching her approach me, to join us.
Adriano falls into step next to me as we follow her back out and turn into another long hallway. This place is a maze.
Adriano whispers, “What’s wrong?”
“Sal wants to talk.”
We’re shown into the office belonging to Sal, who swings around in his black leather desk chair when we enter. Fat Sal does his name justice. He’s fat with a huge, round stomach and is dressed in a crisp, too-tight dress shirt, but he’s clean shaven, extremely tanned, and flashes us his white teeth.
“DeMiliano, to what do I owe the honor of Chicago Syndicate royalty visiting my humble establishment?”
His guard closes the door behind us.
“Sal, this is Adriano.” I don’t elaborate on his rank or mine because I still believe Sal presumes that I’m the boss.
Sal has a reputation of ruling his sex and fight club with an iron fist; he’s ruthless. But we’ve never had any altercations with him.
Also, he seems mellow and at ease since we’re in his territory, so I pry for information. “I’m actually looking for someone, hoping you could help me.”
He signals to the chairs in front of his desk. “Sit.”
“No, thanks. I can keep it short. I’m looking for Camilla Guillermo.”
“Why?”
“She used to work for me and disappeared suddenly after we had some issues at my house,” I reveal the truth, partly.
Fat Sal trades glances with his bodyguard. “The name does sound familiar.”
He’s fishing to find out how much I’m willing to pay for the information. “Her classified records led me here. By the way, I can have every trace to your club removed by my hacker. He’s the best.”
“Deal. Come, we go to the fight club.”
That was unexpectedly easy. Adriano and I glance at each other briefly before we trail Sal out and into the elevator to head one level lower.
When the elevator doors open, Sal’s lips spread into a proud grin. “This is my Batcave.”
Applause and shouts from hundreds of people invade my ears in the underground arena. The place is maybe ten times the size of the sex club above but with similar rounded walls. The brightest part in the room is the caged podium in the center where the fight is going on.
As Sal leads the way, people part. The smell of blood and sweat infuses the air. Three men dressed as gladiators are fighting with medieval equipment. Red covers the podium, and I’m stunned at the crazed excitement blazing in the crowd’s eyes. People are groping, kissing, cheering, and fucking like a bunch of lunatics.
While I’ve heard rumors of captives in this club, it’s obvious from seeing multiple women strung up on the wall with tears streaming down their terrified faces that they’re not here of their own free will. The entire atmosphere is contradictory to the sophisticated club one floor up. I look over my shoulder to Adriano, who’s also taking everything in and covertly scoping the place out.
A dark-haired man in a suit crosses our path, and I notice a silver cross pendant that glistens in the light hanging out of his pants pocket. Apart from Adriano and me, no one is dressed in a suit down here.
Abruptly, Sal stops moving and reads a text message before retreating to the elevator. “The guy we need to talk to is upstairs,” he explains when we step through the doors and ascend.
What the fuck was that about? Showing off his depraved fight club?
We dutifully return to his office where another man is waiting in, yet again, a black suit.
Sal introduces the other man, who has his hair tied up in a man bun. “Santino, DeMiliano and Montesi. Camilla Guillermo? Ring a bell?”
“She used to work here,” Santino answers.
Adriano’s annoyance is vibrating off him, and I’m not sure if he can handle hearing that she’s part of the fight club.
“She was one of our ladies.” Santino puts it nicely.
Adriano speaks before I can, “Sex club or fight club?”
“Fight club,” Santino replies.
Adriano’s hand balls into a fist.
We need to get out of here before Adriano loses it.
“Sal, Santino, thanks for the information. I’ll take care of our end of the deal.” I look to Sal, and he dips his chin in farewell.
The redhead is waiting outside the door and escorts us back up to retrieve our weapons. We hurry out of there and don’t speak until we’re inside Adriano’s car.
“That’s a fucking creepy place.” Adriano braces his neck with one hand.
“Why the hell did Sal take us down there?” I’m still slightly nauseated by what we witnessed.
“It’s weird that this place exists in the middle of the city.” He starts the car and waits for another vehicle to pass before driving down the street. “And Cam worked there? I can’t believe it. It makes me sick thinking about what they might’ve done to her. She’s so much more damaged than I ever thought.”
My phone vibrates, and I check the screen: James.
“You went to Fat Sal’s?” he spits angrily as I answer.
Thrown off by his tone, I reply, “Yeah. Why?”
“Meet me within thirty minutes at your place. Adriano too. Come down to get me from the garage entrance because I’m not entering through the front.”
“Si.” Yes. “James wants to talk to us,” I say to Adriano.
***
“Next time, you call me before you do something like this, Capito?” Understood? James paces behind Adriano and me into the kitchen.
I strip my jacket and toss it over the bar stool. “No, what exactly is the problem here?” I glance at Adriano, who mirrors my amazed reaction.
James has one hand in his pocket and the other pressed flat against the kitchen counter. “I look the other way often with the two of you. But don’t forget that I am your Capo crimine. I decide what business is most important, and I don’t want two of my best men going into that club unarmed.”
I undo the top button of my dress shirt. “Okay. But we did learn something. Cam used to work at the fight club.”
James’s eyes narrow. “Why are you two so interested in Camilla?”
“Because it’s possible she planted the bomb,” I confess.
He hurriedly circles his hand, signaling for me to continue.
“She and Fallon tried to escape the house once, right by that hedge near where the bomb went off.”
James’s discontent is turned on me, then on Adriano while he rubs his fingers over his lips. “I do know everything that goes on in that house. Usually.”
“Usually, we speak to you more often, James,” I point out. “I’ve barely seen you in the last few weeks. Business is good because I’m making huge amounts of profits disappear into Security Simplicity, but we need to meet more often.”
He ignores my comment completely. “This is what’s going to happen. You two need to be reminded of your place. I decide our course of action, and right now”—he indicates to me—“you need to follow instructions. I’ll look into Camilla. The house has been repaired and is safe. Adriano, tell the other Capi the house is open again.” Then he addresses me, “You and Adriano focus on Alex’s investigation. I want that case closed. Every loose end involving Miss Michaels must be covered. That is your priority. And then stay away from her.” James strides to the elevator. “And Luca, I’m glad you’re not drunk. Adriano, make sure he stays sober.” He disappears through the doors.
“What crawled up his ass?” Adriano states, making me grin.
“I have no idea. But it’s best for us to follow orders. Let’s make sure Alex’s case is closed without pointing back to us, and I’m going to stay away from Fallon.”
CHAPTER 11
Fallon
For two months, I’ve been unemployed and about to go stir crazy. My life sucks. Well, most of the time. It doesn’t suck when I’m watching my new favorite TV series. I�
��m addicted to watching back-to-back episodes of Charmed. The only thing that gives me pleasure is watching that show. I’m already at season two. I’ve kind of given up on reading because I haven’t picked up a book since I came home from my kidnapping.
After pulling on my socks over my cold, bare feet while sitting on the floor, I settle back against my couch as I consume my burrito al pastor and actually smile when the opening music starts. Nowadays, I prefer TV over people.
I’ve told my parents I’m working temp jobs, which isn’t true. I’m not doing anything except sitting at home with TNT on. Now I get how people get addicted to watching TV.
I’m also alienating myself from everyone. Teagan and I rarely talk anymore; we communicate mostly through texting. Jason’s called, but I always hold him off. Why? I don’t even know.
Fortunately, Alex’s investigation is at a standstill. Detective Wade informed me that at this point, there isn’t enough evidence to look further into the case, but he never confirmed that the case was closed.
However, one thing that remains the same is the depth of my feelings for Luca. Every day, I miss Luca more instead of less. As the anger fades, the love is still tangible. Absence does make the heart grow fonder. Time has only managed to worsen my depression. And the fact that I have too much time on my hands isn’t helping at all.
I didn’t return Luca’s money, because after our confrontation about it, I realized that I’ll probably need it if I don’t find a job. Therefore, the smartest thing is to keep the money. But I’m worried about the conditions that might come with that money – even though Luca didn’t mention any conditions – so I haven’t spent a dime.
Nonetheless, my nights are restless and filled with an unnerving recurring dream. I wake up drenched in sweat and remember my dream vividly. I’m stuck somewhere, surrounded by blackness, and I’m crying. There’s a need building in me to get out, but something hinders me from standing up. I used to have this dream where I’m partly awake, and I want to wake up fully, but I can’t open my eyes because they feel too heavy. In that weird dream state, I’d fight to open my eyes, but it was impossible. And then when I finally did wake, I remembered every second of the dream. This dream is similar. Only instead of trying to open my eyes, I want to get out of the dark, but I can’t. My limbs won’t work with me. The anxiety it gives me sparks an eerily realistic sensation, even after I’ve woken up.
All of a sudden, my phone catches my attention on the coffee table when it rings.
I stare at the screen before deciding not to ignore him. “You’re very persistent.”
“You’re unreachable,” Jason retorts. “What are you doing? Wait, let me guess. You’re already in sweats, sitting on the couch?”
“No,” I deny unconvincingly with a smile. “Not on the couch, on the floor.”
“You’re coming with me tonight. My no-good friend who always cancels ditched me again, and I need a wingman. You need to get out of that apartment. Don’t sit at home on Saturday night.”
I groan because I’m not in the mood to dress myself. “No, I really—”
“I’m picking you up at nine. You have over an hour to get ready.” And he hangs up.
I turn off the TV and wander to my bedroom, falling back onto the bed. I should stop whining and just go meet Jason. With a heavy sigh, I get up and head to the bathroom to start fixing myself up.
***
“I really thought I’d have to drag you out of that apartment kicking and screaming.” Jason kisses my cheek after I slide into the cab, and we drive away from my building.
“For the first ten minutes after you called, I was trying to come up with any excuse to get out of this, but I drew a blank. I actually do feel somewhat better after my shower and shaving my legs again after three weeks,” I whisper, and he winces while peeking at my legs. “I did shave.”
I tie the belt of the blue cardigan I’m wearing over my sleeveless, ivory-tiered dress as a shiver runs up my spine from the cold. It’s not even that chilly, just the mildly cool temperature of fall, but I’m cold because I barely get out.
“Thank god, or else we’d be heading right back to your place.”
“Where are we going?” I’m determined to try to have a pleasant Saturday evening. That constant emptiness still lingers, but tonight I’ll make an effort to enjoy myself with my friend.
“Cocktails & Heels.”
“I’m not wearing heels.” I look down to my extremely comfortable nude flats.
His lips thin in a straight line. “Not a good enough excuse. Even without heels, you’ll get in. Besides, we’re almost there. Only ten more minutes.”
The place is swamped with people when we arrive, and Jason and I careen toward the bar to order some drinks as I untie and remove my cardigan. It only takes five minutes for me to swoop in on an empty bar stool, and Jason brings our drinks.
“Long Island Iced Tea.” He grins as he hands me the tall, cold glass.
“You do realize this is my first drink in weeks, and you give me this?” I arch a brow but pull my lips over the straw.
Jason laughs and stands right in front of me so that no one bumps into me and makes me fall off the seat. “You look good. Not what I was expecting,” he blurts bluntly.
“Well, thanks.” I roll my eyes.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.” I sigh and lean forward so he can hear my words in this jam-packed place. “I’m having a difficult time getting over him, but I really want to. It’s confusing and draining.”
He caresses my hair affectionately. “Give it a little more time.”
“That’s all I can do. I need a job to establish a routine again because now I have too much time on my hands. How’s your job?” I change the topic to a more fun subject and take another sip of my drink as I notice Jason’s gaze straying to the blonde on the stool next to me.
“So far, so good. It’s a lot more administrative work than they said it would be, and I’m not enjoying that aspect, but I can’t complain. At least I found one quickly. I’m keeping my eyes open in case any position becomes available for you.”
“Thanks.”
We exchange a hasty grin when the blonde flirts back with him. He inconspicuously points his thumb to her, so I nod, relaying that he can flirt away and doesn’t need to stay with me.
Swiveling around in my chair, I face the bar. The wall is lined with liquor bottles, and two bartenders put on an entertaining show while mixing the cocktails.
Jason almost bumps me off the stool when he helps the blonde from her chair and turns to me with a sorrowful look. “Sorry. Come dance with us?”
I shake my head. “No, no. You can go.” I’m not going to be the third wheel on the dance floor.
With my attention back on the bartenders, I taste my drink again and realize how lonely I feel surrounded by all these unknown faces. A few men smile kindly, but I just ignore them.
I’m startled when I’m suddenly engulfed by two big arms but instantly relax when Jason’s cheek is pressed to mine. “So...my wingman did such a good job, I can call it a night already, but I don’t want to leave you.”
He releases his hold, and I pivot around to face him. “You suck! You drag me here, and after half an hour, you leave?”
“Come on; we’ll leave together.”
I point my thumb over my shoulder to my half-empty drink on the bar. “I’m finishing my drink, and then I’ll take a cab home. Go have fun.”
“You sure?”
I know he would stay if I asked him to. “Yes. Just call me tomorrow.”
“Definitely,” he replies and walks backward two steps before bumping into someone.
I watch him disappear through the door with his latest conquest, then I spin back to the bartenders and my drink. The alcohol is starting to make me feel warm and relaxed. One of the bartenders throws me a wink.
I’m feeling less lonely with every passing minute while the music is improving.
CHAPTER 12
Luca
Two months have passed excruciatingly slowly. During that time, I’ve done everything I could to tamper with Alex’s investigation, and the case will be closed soon. However, I haven’t found Detective Collopy – she’s been avoiding the Syndicate and working under the radar – which definitely concerns me. Adriano and I obeyed James and have focused solely on Alex, but James still hasn’t discovered anything leading us to Cam or any other suspects for the bombing at headquarters.
I’m in my car, on my way to my penthouse and frown when, for the first time in weeks, David calls me. David’s primary assignment has been to track Fallon’s every move since that weekend I took her home. I’ve resisted stalking her myself but couldn’t let her out of my care completely. She’s not talking to the police, so I was pleased to cross Fallon off our list of suspects. Yet I still feel responsible for her. I still feel for her. And my need to protect her will always be there, even when I’m enraged at her dishonesty in not confiding in me about Alex’s note.
I hurriedly answer, “Yes.”
“Someone, other than me, just followed Fallon and companion to West Madison Street. She went into a bar named Cocktails & Heels.” A door is being slammed on his end. “I’m walking in too.”
Unease instantly pours in. “Don’t reveal yourself unless absolutely necessary. Protect Fallon without scaring her.” I yank on my steering wheel and hit the gas to go to West Madison Street. “I’m coming now. Don’t let her out of your sight!” I end the conversation to instantly touch base with Adriano.
“Ciao.” Hello.
“Where are you?”
“Loop,” he replies.
“Are you close to West Madison?” I ask.
“I think so; let me check.”