by Soraya Naomi
“Ah, he was a losing fighter anyway. And I’m pretty pleased with how your hacker handled deleting any trace of Camilla Guillermo’s connection to my establishment.”
Adriano flinches at the mention of Cam’s name.
Sal’s obviously fishing to see if he can contact my hacker when he has issues within his organization. “Fine, you call one of us”—I point my thumb to Adriano and then to myself—“when you need Henry, and we’ll make sure our resources are available.”
The corner of Sal’s lip tilts up. “I like the way you work: direct and to the point. Deal.”
Oh no, I also want something from you, Fat Sal.
“But,” I add. “I need to find Ashton. Soon. You’re my best chance of capturing him quickly.”
“Done.”
“Have all your men looking for him.”
“Done,” he confirms.
“Okay, I need to leave now because, as you can see, that asshole cut me.”
Santino opens the door for us.
“Keep in touch, Sal.” I end the conversation on a light note, and Adriano and I race outside to his car.
Once I’m inside the vehicle, I lift my shirt and gently press my fingers into my side. “Shit, this is going to hurt tomorrow.”
Adriano grabs my arm, and I look up to see him staring, so I follow his gaze to the front entrance of the club where James is walking out.
“Isn’t that James?” he asks unbelievingly.
“What the fuck? Yes!”
Our gazes snap to each other and then back to James, who’s moving to his car across the street.
“What’s he doing here?” Adriano blurts, completely stunned.
“No idea. This is strange. We were reprimanded for coming here, but he goes in there alone?” What’s James up to? “Let’s not confront him yet. I want to see if James mentions his visit himself,” I instruct.
Adriano nods and pushes the key into the ignition. “You should text Doc to meet us at your penthouse for your injuries.”
CHAPTER 22
Fallon
Wade stays with me the entire week after that horrific night at the police station and handles the endless questions from my parents, Teagan, and Jason. They don’t understand where my good friend, Richard Wade, suddenly came from since they never heard of him, but I couldn’t care less about that.
After a few days, he practically drags me out of bed, and we watch Charmed together as he tries to lift my spirits. I’ve come to rely heavily on Wade and don’t know what I would’ve done without him. He even convinces me to talk to a therapist to help me cope.
We discuss whether or not I should press charges and promptly discard that idea because in a precinct as corrupt as this one, it would only make me a bigger target. And Wade’s positive that Ashton is still a danger to me.
During this time, I go through a myriad of emotions. Fear makes me change my locks. For a while, there’s self-blame when I go over that night in my head repeatedly and wonder how I could’ve prevented it. Then more isolation and anger follow. Anger at everyone: the perpetrator, law enforcement, society. And through all of that, I still miss Luca every day. Nothing weakens my love for him. I long to be held by the man I fell in love with at the beginning of this year, and I call him so many times to apologize but chicken out every single time and press end before it connects.
By Friday, a week after my attack, I’m home alone because Wade has a life too. And although he doesn’t mention it to me, I’m sure he has issues at work. I’m crying while watching a tear-jerking Charmed episode when the loud ring of the buzzer jars me off the couch. Wade isn’t supposed to stop by until tonight, and we agreed that in order to reduce my nervousness, he would always call me before showing up. Staring at the buzzer, I shiver when it rings again and cautiously push the button but don’t speak.
“Fallon?” a female voice asks. “Fallon, it’s Cam. I mean Camilla. Open up, please.”
Unlocking my door, I rush downstairs to make sure that she’s alone, and we both smile sadly when we spot one another. It’s been almost five months since we met, and the last time we saw each other was that night we tried to escape the Syndicate’s headquarters. Her auburn bob has grown out a bit, and she looks tired but still beautiful.
As soon as I open the front entrance, she jumps into my arms. “How are you?”
“How did you find me?” I return her genuine embrace, and we break to give each other a once-over.
She frowns at my disheveled state. My eyes are red and swollen from crying, not only from the show I was watching, but from random times throughout the day when memories plague me.
“It wasn’t easy,” she replies as we head up to my apartment.
“Sit.” I motion to the sofa and slide onto the coffee table opposite her. “I’ve thought about you often, and I didn’t have a clue how I could find you.”
Cam twists her hands together in unease. “They’re looking for me.”
“Syndicate?” I question with a gasp.
“Yes, and I don’t know why.”
“What happened with Adriano after you two left Luca’s room that night we tried to escape?” Luca never divulged anything about Cam. “It’s surreal to have you here in my apartment.”
I feel connected to this woman because she’s the only person who knows what I went through in that house, except for Luca.
“Are you still with Luca?” she asks.
I shake my head and stand up to get some tea. “No. You want some tea?”
“Yes, please.”
She relays her story while I switch on the electric kettle and grab mugs and Earl Grey tea.
“Adriano was furious that night, and I don’t think he really knew what to do because he was pacing and ranting, but he did stay with me. The next day, he dropped me off at my house and told me to disappear. I didn’t know if it was a threat or a warning, so I did as he advised and got the hell out of Chicago. My neighbor, who’s my friend, contacted me a week later and told me that an Italian man – Adriano – came looking for me, and he was fuming that no one could give him information. I disconnected my phone, and I have some contacts in Chicago who are helping me stay under the radar.”
“Where did you stay?”
“Iowa.”
“How did you end up there?” Taking the steaming mugs, I lead us back to the couch and sit down Indian style.
Cam takes the drink and warms her hands. “A friend of mine has a secluded place there, and she said I could use it.”
“Why did you come back to the Loop?”
“Because about three months ago, I discovered that James Calderone has been searching for me.”
“Oh crap,” is all I say.
“Yes, the Capo crimine, also known as the Godfather, is looking for me. I’m scared shitless, and I don’t know what he wants from me. I’m sick of hiding, so my friend found you for me. I was wondering if you also disappeared, and then I was told you’re continuing on with your life as always. I thought they were looking for me because of what we did at the house.”
I snort, knowing that my life has changed just as much as hers has. “Uhm...I’m not continuing on with my life as before. You have no idea what happened.”
“So tell me,” she urges in a soft voice.
I bite my lip and release a deep breath. “Where do I start? Luca brought me home a day after we tried to escape, and I ended it with him because I was so confused and angry and scared also. Then my boss died, and I was framed for his death.” I still can’t believe what’s happened to my life. “Well, not exactly framed, but I was linked to the case.”
She’s about to take a sip of her tea but places the mug on the table and stares at me in amazement.
“Yeah, my life has changed completely too, Cam. Our affiliation with these guys is dangerous, yet we’re still drawn to them. The detective on my boss’s case has been helping me, and Luca also helped me when I was attacked by a cop who wanted to frame me last week – it’s all Syndicate
related. Long story short, I did see Luca a couple of times, but our encounters never ended well. There’s too much animosity between us. Before last week, I hadn’t talked to him for almost two months. I was even arrested last week, but almost the entire precinct is corrupt, and thankfully, the one good cop has come to my aid.” I can’t talk about the rape to her yet; those wounds are still too fresh.
“Jesus Christ!”
Abruptly, an unsettling thought crosses my mind. “Shit, Cam, Luca has been having me trailed for a long time. I don’t know if I’m still being watched. If I am, they’ll know you’re back in the Loop.”
“Fuck!” She jumps up. “I need to leave then.”
“How do we contact each other? I still want to finish our talk,” I say.
She gives me her phone from her purse. “Put your number in, I’ll call you.”
While entering my contact information, I state, “Maybe Wade – he’s my cop friend – can help you? Call me the first chance you get. No, wait! Don’t call me because I’m sure my phone records are being checked too. The Syndicate is everywhere and extremely powerful; I realize that now.” I clutch her phone while wondering how we can contact one another. “Okay, meet me in Lake Forest next week at my parents’ house.” I type in my parents’ address. “What day can you be there?”
“Uhm...Tuesday,” she retorts with fearful eyes, and we wrap our arms around each other tightly.
“Okay, Tuesday at noon,” I confirm before she runs out.
I can’t believe how both our lives have been turned upside down.
***
On Monday, Wade drops me off at the office of a therapist that’s situated in an upscale, old brownstone building on the east end of town. I climb the stairs to the second floor, and she welcomes me as I push open the glass doors to enter the deserted waiting room.
She stands in the doorway of her office and motions for me to enter.
“Miss Michaels, I’m Sylvia Lenter. You’re right on time,” she greets with a strong handshake and a friendly smile.
The first thing I notice is how her hairstyle is the same perfect pixie cut as my mother’s. Her office is impressive with high ceilings and a huge window overlooking the busy street and is decorated in aged wood with a soft beige seating area set up as a living room.
“Please sit.” She gestures to the sofa and the recliner, giving me a choice. “Anything to drink, Miss Michaels?”
“Yes, a tea.” I choose the beige recliner because the upholstery looks much softer. “And please, call me Fallon.”
Her lips curl up as she pours hot water into an elegantly tiny teacup and slides onto her chair opposite me with her notepad and pen in hand. “Let’s get to know each other.”
After relaying my life story in ten minutes, she picks up the hint that I want to talk about the abuse when I reach that point quickly. I avoid mentioning the Syndicate and leave out those six days I was held at their headquarters.
“Let’s discuss why you’re here.”
“I want to feel normal again.”
“In what way do you feel abnormal?”
“I’m afraid and on edge all the time. I tend be a loner. Without my friends pushing me to stop closing myself off, I would sit at home alone all day long.”
“Those are all normal human reactions, Fallon. There’s nothing not normal about any of the things you just mentioned. Have you told your family and friends what you’ve been through?”
“No. Only one friend knows.”
She scribbles something down. “Why?”
“I’m afraid of their reaction.”
“Stop worrying about what others will think, about what your family will think. Don’t concern yourself with their thoughts and reactions but with your own healing process. That’s what we’re going to focus on in these sessions. I want you to know that you’re not to blame at all, do you understand that?”
I nod slowly. “I do. But how I could’ve prevented it does cross my mind.”
“Again, a normal reaction that will fade with time. Are you apprehensive to have sex?”
I shrug while gazing at a children’s boutique across the street. “I don’t think so, but I haven’t been in a situation where I’ve had the opportunity to have sex after...it. I do have a....uhm...this need to feel that I’m still desirable.”
“That’s not uncommon. It affects everyone in a different way. There’s no right or wrong here. Remember that.”
“What bothers me most is that sense of dirtiness, of filthiness that I can’t shed.”
Her tender eyes hold mine sympathetically. “You’re not dirty, and deep down, you realize that.”
The tears that have been pooling flow over, and she hands me the softest tissues that smell like flowers, allowing me time to let it out. Sniffing and wiping my nose, I look at her to convey that I’m ready to continue.
“Can you explain in what way you feel dirty?”
“Dirty might not be the right word...No, it is. The violation of my body makes me feel dirty.”
“All the time?” she probes.
“No, and honestly, the feeling has weakened slightly. The day after was when I was at my worst, when I couldn’t believe it happened. And that entire day, I lived under a dark, black cloud. At random moments, I feel like I’m under that black cloud again.”
“Look at how much you’ve relayed to me. You’ve confided in me and talk quite eloquently about your feelings. You’re much stronger than you think. You’re not weak because you cry. Crying is a necessary step in the healing process. The human psyche is much stronger than we give ourselves credit for, Fallon. I see how you fight to not have this define your life, which is admirable. You’re very self-aware already, and I can offer you methods and tools to break the dark cloud cycle you mentioned.”
Tucking my legs under my behind, I seek a more comfortable position. “But I think it’s easy to tell my story here because I’m not afraid of your reaction.”
“Whose reaction are you specifically afraid of?”
“My parents. It’ll hurt them.”
“It might hurt them more if you keep it from them. Parents always want to nurture their children, no matter what age. Give them a chance to help you.”
Silence stretches around us.
“And who else’s?” she questions.
“Luca’s.”
“Tell me about Luca.” She turns back one page of her notebook. “You’ve mentioned him several times.”
I twist my teacup and expel a loaded breath. “What do you want to know?”
“Who is he?”
Sucking in my lower lip, I wonder how to answer that. “He’s...It’s complicated, but he’s my ex-boyfriend. He’s the love of my life. The one that got away.”
I fought my feelings and pushed so hard that I allowed him to get away. In reality, I still don’t know if I could ever accept his line of work, but I’ve definitely entered grey territory, and I’m beginning to understand that he’s certainly not the bad guy in all of this. Law enforcement has let me down, and I let Luca down, and now he’s shut the door on us for good.
“But you still talk to him?”
“No, not really. I pushed him away after the rape.” This is the first time I actually mention the word rape.
“Why are you surprised?”
“What?” I ask with a frown.
“You had a surprised look after you said that you pushed him away.”
“Oh, I was shocked that I said the word rape; that’s the first time I’ve stated the word out loud.”
“How do you feel now that you’ve said it?”
“The same. I don’t feel any different.”
“Exactly. The word itself won’t hurt you. Neither will confiding in people.”
“I know.”
“Do you feel anxious lately?”
“Definitely,” I reply.
“Okay, I want you to start writing down your feelings daily. We don’t have to discuss everything you write down if yo
u don’t want to, but it could help you to organize your thoughts. Do you exercise?”
“I run, that’s it.”
“Ever thought about attending yoga classes? Yoga calms people and releases stress and anxiety.”
“I have, actually, and I will. There are classes at the gym near my apartment.”
She closes her notebook and places it gently on the table next to her chair. “Great. I would like to see you once a week, unless you want to increase the frequency?”
“No, once a week is fine.”
She hands me her business card. “If you ever feel like you need to talk to me and can’t wait until our session, I want you to call me. Do you have any other questions?”
That’s nice. I would’ve thought she wouldn’t want to be bothered outside of office hours. “Thank you. No questions at the moment.”
“Same time next week then, Fallon?”
“Sure.” Getting my coat from the couch, I head toward the door and we part.
To be honest, Wade was right – I do feel slightly better after confiding in her. I can’t hide from my demons. I need to deal with them or else they’ll become a shadow I can never outrun. Although a yoga class is a great idea, it won’t reduce my anxiety as long as Ashton is still a free man. And that’s why I’m leaving the Loop.
Wade’s waiting for me after my session, ready to drive me to Lake Forest.
***
Wade drops me off in the driveway of my parents’ quaint, white two-story house, and I smile as I pass the well-trimmed hedges along the porch.
My mother blocks the doorway. Her entire face lights up when she sees me, and she opens her arms.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Sweetheart, I’m so happy you came.” She holds me by the shoulder and tenderly cups my cheek. “You look good. No bruising or swelling anymore around your nose.”
The physical scars of Collopy’s attack might be gone, but my invisible, raw emotional scars caused by Ashton run deep.
My mom tugs me in to escape the cold winter air of December. “Come inside.”
