CHAPTER540
Please come for me.
He leads me through the bar, past the dancer and straggling men and through a dark door to the side. It opens into an office that’s crowded and cluttered. A huge desk in the middle of an overly packed room of furniture, cabinets and overflowing files and I’m forced down into a seat by the wall that faces into the room. He keeps walking to the desk and sits down awkwardly in the large leather seat, looking completely out of place and I get the distinct impression this is not his office at all. He looks too pulled together and groomed for this shithole.
Moments later the door is opened, and Camilla is dragged in and dumped on the couch opposite me by two men, her face white as milk, tears in her eyes as she muffles cries under her breath from pain and they leave her there to wallow. Nodding at the man who brought us in and depart quickly, pulling the door behind them. I glance at her, checking to see she’s okay and see she’s already closing her eyes to try and internalize it all. She’s panting, perspiring and I really start to feel sick with worry that she might not make it waiting for Alexi.
“I think she needs a medic. Tyler’s men really did her over.” I look to him imploringly, appealing to the gentler side, but he smirks at me and shrugs as though I’m insane.
“Better tell your boyfriend that when he comes for the hand off.” He leans back in the chair, creaking as it goes and sticks two expensive, polished shoes on the wooden surface uncaringly, pulling off leather gloves that I didn’t even noticed he was wearing and throws then casually on the table.
“When will that be? How long do we need to stay here?” I watch him nervously, trying to keep my cool, trying to not fall to pieces even though I really want to. None of this seems real, this can’t be happening, and I have never been more afraid.
“As long as it takes! Alexi is a busy man and he’s coming here from elsewhere. Last thing he needed to deal with today was problematic little girls getting themselves in all sorts of trouble.” He sneers again, and I get the distinct impression that he isn’t on Tyler’s pay roll at all; he seems to be a little cozy on the first name basis of the man they were all trembling over. I swallow hard, to try and rid my dry throat of the parched dryness and stare at him questioningly, sitting upright in the leather tub chair I’m on.
“You work for Alexi?” I’m shocked; not only that this is the kind of man he deals with, but his lack of care that I mean something is astonishing. Considering the fear Tyler and Camilla seem to have for him.
“No… Let’s just say we are on the same side of a very big club and we have been known to rub shoulders. I’m here as a favor. Keeping you cozy until he gets here. Safe from Tyler’s handy men.” He slides his feet back down and pulls himself upright, walks across to a dusty shelf of books and looks through the titles, pulling one aside and dragging out a hidden bottle of booze. He reads the label, turns, and throws it across to Camilla with precise aim and a grin.
“Here sweetheart, kill the pain and stop your little friend here from having some sort of caring epidemic.” The bottle hits her in the stomach and sends her into a yelping recoil, curling up and clutching her ribs before it slides to the floor with a dull thud and I glare at him in disgust. I have no idea who he is, but I hate him. He has no compassion and his treatment of a wounded woman has me thinking murderous thoughts. I hope Alexi beats him half to death with that stupid bottle when he gets here.
There’s a knock on the door, a head pops in and motions to him, completely expressionless and I get nothing from the look that passes between them. He says nothing, a nod and then he walks towards the door and leaves, closing it behind him without a second glance as though we are of no importance at all. I get the impression he isn’t happy about babysitting us and wonder why the hell they didn’t let us go, back in that alley.
We could have been in a cab to the hospital hours ago.
As soon as the door clicks I’m on my feet and speedily crossing to her in seconds, pulling the bottle from the floor and start trying to help her to sit, pushing cushions behind her head in a bid to get her comfier. Focusing on this is all I can think to do to stop myself going bat shit crazy.
“Don’t.” She croaks between breaths, and yet I still persevere.
“Sitting up a little will mean I can help you drink this, if it dulls something then it has to be worth it.” I maneuver her, so I can lift her head, unscrew the cap and help her drink the neat vodka a little at a time. She coughs and chokes and shakes her head at me trying to signal that she cannot drink it.
“I can’t…it hurts too much. I think they broke most of my ribs.” She’s breathing so shallowly, closing her eyes tight in pain and I want to cry for her. I once had two broken ribs and know how painful it can be. I hate that we’re stuck here like this, that I’m helpless to do anything for her.
“It will help. I promise you.” I know because at twelve it was how I dealt with the pain from self-treating those same broken bones, from my father’s drinks cabinet. Hospitals would have asked questions, so my mom never took me. The bruises, marks, and state of me would have alerted so much suspicion.
I shake it out of my head and try again with the liquor, holding her face as she tries to drink, taking smaller sips this time; she turns her head away when she can’t anymore, and I swallow down the urge to burst into hopeless tears. I have to keep telling myself that they are coming.
“Why are you helping me? After what I did?” she croaks, swollen eyes barely open enough to look at me and I regard her with so much in my head. Trembling, trying to stay positive.
“Because I am all you have right now, we’re in this together. I can’t watch you suffer, that’s not who I am.” I sit down on the floor, cradling the bottle in between my knees as the tears start to fall. Hopeless at where we are, in this dirty room, surrounded by strangers. I never imagined for a minute that I would ever be locked in a place that meant she and I only had each other to rely on. She is the last person in the world I would ever trust to help me, yet I can’t let her suffer.
I just want to go home.
“I’m sorry for what I did…. If it means anything then…I am.” Camilla croaks, grimaces with the effort and watches me with slotted eyes. The bruising and redness so bad now, the swelling seems to be getting worse over time. I catch the hint of emotion in her voice, realize my tears are making her upset too and try so hard to pull myself together. My problems of last night, what happened with Arry, they seem so insignificant compared to this and I want him here.
“I’m sorry I punched you in the face, even if you did and still do deserve it. I know that’s why we’re here…if I had just walked by and left you to it, then we wouldn’t be here.” I sniff back a fresh wave of guilty tears and wipe my face with my sleeve, seeing the smeared make up residue and can only imagine how bad I look.
“They would have caught me anyway, and there is still a really good chance that I won’t walk away from this. I still have a debt.” She sounds completely resigned to the fact that I’ll be allowed to go, and she knows fate has finally caught up with her, but I shake my head. If the reason we are still in their grasp is money, then I know the Carreros will deal with it.
“Arry won’t let anything happen to you… Alexi will take you as part of whatever deal he has to make, because he’ll assume you’re my friend. Alexi won’t let anything happen to either of us.” I assure her, so sure in my family, and knowing their hearts. I know they won’t let her be left behind in this, they will bring her out with me and get her help."
