by Willa Hart
She wasn’t wrong. Compared to Zoe, who was a knockout even on her worst night, the guys at the club must have been cross-eyed or something.
“Crap, here comes another one,” I warned as the latest drink sender jostled his way through the packed club. The two that had come before him had also tried getting up close and personal, but I’d shut them both down quickly, much to Zoe’s frustration.
“Hold up,” she said, her eyes finally sparking to life. “This one’s bringing backup!”
Sure enough, another dude followed the first one, smiling lasciviously at Zoe as they neared. They were handsome enough, tall, slightly shaggy dirty blond hair on both, with nice broad frames. They couldn’t hold a candle to Max’s nephews, but they were okay.
For humans.
Not that I was even remotely interested, but I had promised to be Zoe’s wing-woman. She was there to party, and the least I could do was hook up my bestie.
Zoe’s guy wedged in front of her with his back to me. I caught a glimpse of her seductive smile and relaxed. I’d talk to the drink-buyer for a minute, long enough for Zoe to sink her claws into his buddy, then take my leave for the night. The club scene had worn me out and I couldn’t wait to sink into a hot bath and wash this club off me.
My guy leaned in close enough for me to smell his over-application of cologne. “My buddy’s been checking out your friend all night,” he said over the music. “Just got over a breakup.”
I pretended to care. “Sorry to hear that.”
He glanced at the empty drink glasses. “Not a mixed drink fan, huh? I should have known. You look more like a beer girl.”
My eyebrow shot up. “And what exactly does a beer girl look like?”
He stammered for a few seconds, trying to keep his suave demeanor, but he ended up laughing at himself. I let myself laugh along.“I’m not drinking tonight,” I said finally, “but thanks.”
“We can do soda. You must be the designated driver. Respect. Way too many people drive drunk.”
“Uh huh,” I said absently, glancing over at Zoe.
She was happily chatting away with the other guy, her eyes wide and interested, one hand lightly resting on his arm. I’d already felt out of place, but now I felt like a sore thumb.
“What’ll it be?” my guy asked.
I had to give him points for persistence, but I didn’t want to give him any false hope. Besides, Zoe clearly had her guy on lockdown, so I slid out of my seat.
“Sorry, but I’m gonna run to the bathroom.”
I gave him a half-smile, half-grimace to make sure my meaning was absolutely crystal clear. His face fell a little, but he nodded gracefully before heading back to the bar. I gave Zoe a little wave to indicate where I was headed, and she tipped me a quick wink. I admired her lust for life. I didn’t really understand it, but I admired it.
Zoe deserved to get to know her latest target, so I took my time in the bathroom. Not hard to do with all the chatty drunk girls in there taking selfies and wanting to be my new best friend. One girl even blatantly hit on me. Not my first, of course, but still not a frequent occurrence. Nothing about the night was normal, though. I’d never attracted so much attention in my life, especially not when I looked like half-a-hobo, while Zoe looked like a petite movie star you can’t quite place.
By the time I made it back to our table, Zoe and her guy were walking onto the dance floor. It didn’t take long for them to start doing their impression of an X-rated version of Dirty Dancing. That didn’t surprise me, but something about the way she moved caught my attention. I couldn’t put my finger on it.
She was drunk, that much was obvious and unsurprising, considering the three drinks — no, four, I realized as I counted the mostly empty glasses on our table — she’d pounded in an hour. Maybe a skosh more than usual, but not beyond what she could handle. Yet anxiety still gnawed at me.
Watching her carefully, I realized it was all about her normally vibrant green eyes. Every time she’d walk onto a dance floor, they lit up like a Lady Gaga concert, no matter how much she’d had to drink. But as I watched her holding on tight to her guy for stability, I noticed a vacancy in her eyes I’d never seen before. Almost like one of those cartoons where the mouse hits the cat over the head with a sledgehammer and the cat falls down with Xs in his eyes.
Her dance partner didn’t seem the least bit bothered by this. In fact, his eyes watched every move Zoe made with heightened interest. I didn’t like that. It felt almost predatory. All the way to my bones, I felt that. Just like when I knew Ash and Hale had been walking up to the house.
My instinct was to rush out there and drag her away from the guy, but guilt still lingered that he was the first guy to show her some attention tonight. I’d keep an eye on her and, after this song was over and she’d had a little fun, I’d take her home.
Keeping my eyes trained on Zoe, I reached for my glass of water, but the moment my lips touched the rim, alarm bells went off in my head. Not my glass, though it was the same style. I never ordered lime in my water, but the latest addition to Zoe’s glass collection had one. It smelled of vodka and nothing more. So what had set off the alarms?
I took another sniff and couldn’t identify anything specific, but my instincts told me something wasn’t right. Those instincts had shifted into overdrive lately, and I was learning to trust them, but when I couldn’t identify the problem, how was I supposed to react? Tentatively, I tipped the glass just enough to allow my tongue to touch the remaining liquid inside.
The effect was immediate and severe. I managed to set the glass down without dropping it, but my stomach lurched hard enough I thought I might puke all over the place. Lord only knows how I kept the bile down, but there was no controlling the rage rising up inside me like an firestorm.
That asshole had roofied Zoe’s drink!
Storming onto the dance floor like a bull in a china shop, I muscled past the dancers, some spitting curses at me as I passed, but my sole focus was Zoe. When I finally reached her, the rat bastard who’d drugged her had his hands on her hips and was happily grinding against her ass. She barely seemed to notice. Damn, she was fading fast. He glanced my way as I rushed him, stiff-arming him off my best friend. His bulk helped him keep his footing, and allowed him to give me a quick, hard shove that landed me on my ass.
“Get off me, bitch,” he growled, as Zoe turned bleary eyes toward me, her expression completely slack.
I can’t explain what happened next with any kind of clarity, other than I finally understood the concept of “seeing red.” Only a few flashes of what happened next stuck with me afterward, but it was enough to piece it all together later.
As my vision narrowed to a pinpoint on the would-be rapist, the blood pulsing in my ears drowned out all the sound in the hopping club. I leaped at him, taking him off-guard and knocking him away from Zoe. Fists shot into my tiny circle of vision, pummeling his pretty-boy face until blood gushed from his nose. When he reached up to protect his face, those fists landed five quick blows on his stomach, doubling him over.
He staggered backward for a breath or two, then rushed me with his fist cocked. He never came close. Dude might as well have been a granny with a walker. I jerked back as his slow-moving arm swung past me, then delivered three more jabs to his left kidney. His knees nearly buckled that time, but somehow the asshole managed to stay upright.
Not for long.
The guy wasn’t smart enough to get a girl into bed without drugging her, so I wasn’t particularly surprised to learn he wasn’t smart enough to quit before I released my full wrath on him. So be it.
The next time his arm swung into that pinpoint of focus, I caught it like an errant willow branch, then drove my knee deep into his crotch. He crumpled like a sack of potatoes onto the dance floor, his groans barely registering over the thud-thud-thud of my heart. A foot clad in the same exact shoe I’d tugged on that morning delivered a hard kick to his right kidney, leaving him rolling and writhing in agony.
The thud-thud-thud of my heart matched the tempo of the music that hadn’t stopped. What the hell just happened? I wondered. I’d never taken as much as a self-defense class before, much less any kind of training to explain what I’d just done. Before I could pat myself on the back too much, Zoe moaned again, drawing my attention as she swayed from side to side, oblivious of the world around her.
I rushed over and caught her in my arms as her legs gave out. Her being a tiny little thing coupled with the adrenaline still rushing through my body, I managed to pick her up and carry her toward the door.
“Come on,” I said as her head lolled against my shoulder, “let’s get you to the hospital.”
Chapter Fifteen
I hate hospitals. Everything about them has always filled me with anxiety. The pale green walls, the speckled tile floors that just had to be spattered with a wide variety of gross bodily fluids. The constant chorus of machines beeping, wheels rolling, pens clicking, papers shuffling, alarms blaring, and people coughing, sneezing, and groaning in pain. The soft, clinical chatter of the nurses and the watchful yet jaded eyes of the doctors overseeing it all. The smell of disinfectants meant to neutralize and overpower the even more repugnant smell of biohazardous waste, disease, and even death itself. Hell, even the sickly fluorescent lighting gave me a deep feeling of unease.
That’s not to say the people who work in them don’t deserve truckloads of respect and admiration, but no way could I last a day in their Crocs. Even simply sitting in the curtained space where they’d wheeled Zoe after giving her activated charcoal to help her puke up the date-rape drug she’d been slipped was almost too much for me. Of course, no one could have torn me away from her side, not even a hypodermic-wielding maniac in a blood-stained hockey mask.
I sat perched on a wobbly and very uncomfortable metal chair next to her gurney, staring at the gray charcoal stains on her lips and trying to control my anger. Not in a million years would I forget how limp she’d felt in my arms as I carried her to my Caddy. Thank god I’d still been running off adrenaline, which had long since petered out, leaving me exhausted, achy, and overly emotional. Didn’t help that it was closing in on two in the morning.
The only thing that kept me sane as I waited for the test results that would tell us if she’d suffered any kidney damage from the Rohypnol was the steady, strong beep of her heart monitor. The doctor had been encouraging, explaining that immediate medical attention usually yielded happy outcomes, but my worry wouldn’t ease until those tests came back negative.
She’d been half-lucid just after the charcoal treatment, which was when the cops had decided to interview us. Poor Zoe had been so out of it she could barely string together the events of the evening. Good thing I’d stuck around to fill in the gaps. She’d passed out again before they even left.
I sat and waited, watching blue-clad nurses scurry this way and that through the slightly open curtain. A heavy-breathing patient occupied the bay on one side of us, but the other remained blissfully empty.
As if the universe had caught wind of my gratitude, the sound of a gurney being wheeled toward us sent me on edge. Not sure how I’d react to a gunshot victim. I peered out the curtain to get a better look and saw no obvious signs of massive blood loss and sighed in relief. Then I focused on the patient’s face and got pissed off all over again.
It was the douche who’d drugged Zoe.
And his face looked like hamburger.
I listened carefully as the nurse plied her trade in the previously empty bay, and the moment she closed his curtain and left, I seized the moment. Needless to say, he was rather surprised to open his two black eyes to find me looming over him, with what probably looked like a terrifying grin on my face. Those eyes grew wide and he sucked in a breath of air, as if to scream for help, but all that came out of his clenched teeth was a pathetic whimper.
I leaned in close enough I could smell his fear and said quietly, “Uh uh uh, you don’t want to piss me off again, do you?”
He shook his head frantically and pushed back into his pillow, as if that might save him from whatever I had planned. I’ve never been one to relish in someone else’s pain and discomfort, but I certainly did in that moment.
“Oh, relax, dipshit,” I said with a chuckle as I resumed my looming posture. “I’m not going to kick your ass again. Probably.”
He whimpered again, a sound mingled with fear and pain, as I inspected his mangled face. Black eyes, bandaged nose, a very pretty knuckle-shaped bruise on his jawline. And god only knew what his torso looked like. I was probably even more shocked than him at the damage I’d inflicted, not that I’d admit that to him. It wasn’t like he was going to die from a broken nose, but I was still proud of my bad-assery. I was usually the one preaching that violence is almost never the answer to a situation, but for a wannabe rapist? Yeah, I made my peace with kicking his ass.
“What’s your name, dickmunch?” I asked, keeping my voice low enough no one would catch me intimidating him.
He mumbled something I couldn’t understand through his clenched teeth. Then it hit me and I broke into a sadistic grin.
“Oh, shit! Did I break your jaw?”
His sad puppy eyes didn’t faze me in the slightest as he nodded pathetically. It was all I could do not to laugh.
“Good,” I said, leaning in again and capturing his full attention. “Now, I want you to hear this, every single syllable, so I’ll talk slow. If you ever, ever roofie a girl again…I’ll know. Doesn’t matter how I’ll know, just trust that I will. And I will find you. And you will not like what I do to you the next time. Got it?”
His head bobbed up and down quickly, even as he winced from the pain. I pulled to my full height, then patted the shoulder I distinctly remembered dislocating.
He grunted in pain.
I smiled.
“Good talk,” I said, moving to the foot of the gurney and pulling out his chart from the holder. “Chadwick Von Dystryl. Hmm, you’ve got a very unique name, Chaddy-boy. I’ll be sure to remember that.”
He started to hyperventilate, and the monitor hooked to him beeped loudly in response. The soft shushing of nurses’ shoes approaching quickly got me moving. I dropped the chart back in place just as she swept open the curtain and was startled by my presence.
“Okay, Chad,” I said, giving the guy a meaning-laden wink, “feel better. I’m sure I’ll see you soon!”
She smiled as I brushed past her, clearly oblivious to the fact I was the one who’d put the guy in that bed. Power flowed through me as I hurried back to Zoe’s side, but I didn’t have time to relish in it. The doctor walked in right behind me.
“Good news,” he said, opening her chart to review the notes. “Lab results came back, and Miss Walsman is going to be fine. No problems with her kidneys, her blood ox is normal, as is her breathing. You can take her home as soon as she wakes up.”
The rush of power was nothing compared to the relief that flooded me with his words. “Oh, thank god!”
“It’ll probably take a couple days for her to fully recover, so she should take it easy. Does she have any family in the area?”
“No. Her family’s in Oregon. But she can stay with me.”
He glanced around to see if anyone might be listening in, then said in a hushed tone, “Then she’s in excellent hands.”
A blush rose in my face for some funny reason. “Thanks?”
“Between you and me — and if you repeat what I’m about to tell you, I’ll deny it — I spoke with the police. They pulled the security tape from the club and found footage of that guy dropping a pill in her drink. Clear as day. He will definitely be charged, and I doubt he’ll h
ave much to say for himself with his jaw wired shut like that. You really did a number on him. You sure your hands are okay?”
I clenched and released my fists to show him I was fine. “Not even a bruise. I guess now I just have to wait to see if they charge me with assault.”
The justice system didn’t always live up to its name.
“No way,” the doctor said, shaking his head emphatically. “You absolutely did the right thing. I don’t even want to think about what could have happened if you hadn’t come to her aid.”
“I just hope the cops see it that way.”
He glanced around again. “They do. Clear-cut case of self-defense, they said.”
Another wave of relief almost buckled my knees. It would have been hard to find Enoch behind bars.
“There’s just one thing they wanted to know,” the doctor said, his brow crinkled in a frown. Good lord, would the ups and downs of this night never end?
“Yeah?”
“Where did you learn self-defense?”
It never really gets dark in L.A., not like it does even a few miles out of the city. It’s sometimes hard to catch the transition between night and the beginning of dawn, but as I drove Zoe home a few hours later, it hit me like a nuclear blast. By the time I helped her up the front walk and to my room, dark purples were shifting to lighter shades, and birds were welcoming the new day. We crept quietly down the hall and I helped her snuggled under the covers of my bed. She was snoring lightly before I even finished tucking her in.
Sitting next to her, I scanned her face, relieved to find the color had returned to her cheeks. The doctor had said she’d sleep for several more hours, but not to worry. Easier said than done, of course, but the load I’d been carrying all night had finally lifted, leaving me utterly and profoundly exhausted.
I barely managed to kick off my shoes before collapsing next to her on the bed. As sleep rushed in like a tidal wave, I wished more than anything Max would come home already. Maybe he could shed some light on what the hell was going on with me.
