by Tia Louise
He did stop what was happening last night…
The noise of footsteps jogging up the passage interrupts us, and when I look up, Mark stands in the doorway. My fears diminish, and my eyes heat. The mere presence of him in this room gives me the strength I need.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Gavin shouts at him. “I’m out of Narcan. I need you to get more fast.” He holds out a brass clip of cash.
My eyes are still on Mark’s, and he pushes past Gavin’s hand.
“Are you okay?” Mark’s voice is warm, and he puts both hands on my waist. “Have you found her?”
“I think she’s still with Evie,” my voice is soft. “I need to find my phone.”
He pulls it out of his pocket and hands it to me. I step forward and wrap my arm around his waist, my head against his chest.
“Well?” Gavin’s voice is insistent. “What’s it going to be?”
Roland’s back in the room. “Where’s the—”
“Mark’s just leaving to get more.” He extends his hand again, the brass clip tucked inside.
“You’ll have to take my car.” He gives Mark the keys.
“Lara?” Mark is waiting, and I nod.
“Go. Help her if you can. I’ll do this one last time.”
“I’ll be back before the climb.” With one last hand squeeze, he’s gone.
“I don’t know any of her dances.” My eyes go to Roland’s.
“We can do the new songs,” he says. “You can do it like a concert. Wear her costumes.”
“She lost so much weight, I don’t know if they’ll fit me.”
“Work out the details,” Gavin snaps. “I’ll take care of the front.”
21
“I broke my own heart loving you.”
Mark
Anxiety twists in my gut as I race through the wet streets.
Tanya was on the floor of her dressing room when I left. Rosa had given her one dose, but it wasn’t working. She told me to get two more. My chest is heavy with the idea Tanya’s life is in my hands, but truthfully, my main focus is Lara’s safety.
Roland says Guy is sedated, and Lara will be onstage performing. She should be safe while I make this short trip, but fuck it. I don’t like her there alone.
Every muscle in my body is tense, and pain radiates through my fists when I tighten them on the wheel of Roland’s Fiat. I should probably have my wrists wrapped as well as my hands. I beat on that metal door a good fifteen minutes last night before breaking the glass.
The light turns, and I punch the accelerator. The rain has stopped, but the streets are still wet, and the tires skid on the slippery asphalt. A quick glance at the clock tells me eight minutes have passed.
I throw it in park when I reach the store and push my way to the pharmacy counter. A man with gray streaks in his dark hair sees me and moves quickly, bagging the syringes and handing them over as I pass him three hundred dollars. We don’t even bother with receipts. He knows the look in my eyes.
I’m in the car racing back to the theater in less than two minutes. Skidding into the parking lot, I throw the door shut and sprint up the back steps and down the narrow hallway to the dressing rooms.
“Give it to me,” Rosa says, and I pass her the bag.
She pulls out the first box and assembles the syringe. Her hands tremble, but she moves slowly, calmly inserting the glass tube into the plastic syringe.
“Stay with me,” she murmurs as she works, and I see red handprints on Tanya’s face from where it appears Rosa slapped her, trying to keep her conscious.
Tanya’s red hair is frizzled around her face, and her skin is sallow. Her cheeks are sunken, and she looks like she weighs ninety pounds. She’s so small, she’s like an abandoned doll, left out in the rain.
It appears Rosa has what she needs, and I leave them in the dressing room hustling to the backstage area so I can be ready for the finale. I’ve missed most of the show, but from the sounds of the audience, Lara’s killing. In my heart, I hope she can enjoy it, but in my head I know she’s as anxious as I am about being here.
Making my way through the bodies, I accidentally bump into a woman standing in the wings. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, catching her by the waist.
She’s fully clothed, which means she isn’t performing, and when she turns, I recognize her face. “You’re Mark?” Her eyes are bright and she smiles. “I’m Evie. We met in the square a while back.”
“Evie,” I repeat. “You have Molly.”
That makes her laugh. “I had Molly. I left her in their room.”
As she speaks, I scan the backstage area frantically. Molly usually waits in the wings with the dancers, watching as Lara performs. I don’t see her, and I jog back toward the dressing room. I’m just at the door when the music changes. It’s time for the finale. I promised Lara, but I hesitate. She’d want to know Molly is safe.
I see one of the new guys leaning against a set piece watching the show. He’s smaller than I am, and his eyes are fixed on the topless dancers.
I grab him by the throat and push him up against the wall. “What’s your name?”
“Hey!” His eyes bug out, and he grabs at my fist while his feet dangle around my shins. “J-Jeffrey. My name’s Jeff.”
My fists throb, and I release him. He falls back, gasping and holding his neck. “Look at me,” His eyes snap up. They’re filled with fear, which is a good thing. “I need you to get to the top of that ladder, to the catwalk. You hold the safety rope as she descends.”
His eyes follow where I’m pointing and down, and he nods quickly. “I’ve seen her do it.”
My hand is on his throat again, and I back him against the wall. “If she falls, you die. If you look at her body, you die. If you touch her body, you die. Understand?”
Sounds like my new motto. His hands are on my wrist.
“I’ll be back. Now get up there.” I shove him toward the ladder and head through the door to the backstage area.
Running up the passage, I reach Lara’s dressing room. Sliding to a stop, I go inside, looking all around. I see the dressing gown, the pen, a small bag, Lara’s phone with a text on the face…
We’re here, the text from Evie reads.
No signs of Molly.
My pulse ticks higher, and I’m out the door again, headed for the stage with a bad feeling in my stomach. Pushing through the door, I make the entire run through the wings on both sides, catching dancers and asking if they’ve seen Molly.
Nothing.
All the members of that sick sex club are back, and Lara’s bargain is in my head. She offered herself in exchange for what? Gavin sent me to buy Narcan, so who does he have guarding the basement?
Slamming into the passage, I sprint to the basement stairs. Taking the steps two at a time, I reach the bottom and race across the large empty trap room with only my phone for a light. Skidding to a stop at the door leading to the hidden rooms, I grab the handle only to find it locked.
I press my ear to it, but my thudding pulse and rapid breathing are louder than what’s happening inside. When I was here the last time, I could hear music. I could hear the occasional fake orgasm. Now all I hear is silence.
Nobody’s here.
Rolling my back to the door, I look up at the stage floor above. The show is over. I have to get to Lara.
Lara
My dream is coming true, and I’m terrified.
Gavin renamed the show “Bright Angel,” and Roland decided my performance should be me walking around the stage singing all the new songs while my wardrobe changes leave me wearing less and less.
I start with my former innocent angel outfit of pink feathers covering my breasts and large wings on my shoulders. From there it progresses until the finale, where I sashay around the stage, breasts fully exposed and wearing only a thong. A triangle of silk keeps me from being totally nude.
It’s a mixture of my dream come true combined with terror of being in the spotlight and not being abl
e to find Molly. The curtain falls, and I don’t even care about the applause. The fear is back full force, and I hurry to my dressing room.
Pushing through the door, a little cry escapes my lips. Tears blur my vision, but I slam the door, pulling my robe over my body before going to the bed where she lies, curled in a ball and shaking.
“Molly?” My voice wavers. Her lips are cracked and bleeding. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
Her eyes are glazed, but looking down, I see blood on her dress. She’s wearing a white sweater dress with leggings, but the leggings are ripped. Large holes are in the front of her thighs and around the back.
The hem of the sweater is dirty with what looks like rust stains, but the closer I look, I realize it’s blood on her skin. Flaky, dry white patches are on her thighs.
“Oh, God, no!” I shriek, covering her with my body.
She shakes harder, but she doesn’t speak to me. I’m not sure if it’s because she’s been drugged or if she has mentally retreated.
Please let her have been drugged. I don’t want her to remember this.
Suddenly she starts to cough. She coughs so much, her face turns red, and she begins to gag. I’m off her at once, running for the small trash bin for her to puke in. She vomits, but only bile comes up. I hold her hair, rubbing circles on her back.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “I’m going to fix this.”
Tears are on my cheeks, but rage twists in my belly.
I jump to my feet, throwing my robe on a chair and grabbing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. I take a blanket and wrap Molly in a tight cocoon on the bed. Snatching up my phone, I send Evie a text.
Come to my dressing room now.
“Stay here. I’ll be back,” I whisper, smoothing her russet hair.
Fury drives me down the hallway to that basement room I remember from last night. At the top of the stairs is a narrow red box I’ve never given much thought. Grabbing the metal rod, I break the glass and yank out the small axe inside.
I charge down the steps and cross the trap room, determination driving me. Roland said they’d been sedating that bastard all day. I plan to find him and cut his dick off.
What I don’t expect is to be met at the door by an enormous bouncer. “The girls come in from the other side,” he growls, crossing his massive arms.
“Who are you?” I ask, holding my weapon behind my leg.
“Who are you?” he growls back.
This guy is huge. He’s at least six-four, and his arms are like concrete pillars.
“I’m here to see Guy,” I say, forcing authority into my voice.
“Nobody gets in this way without a card.”
My grip tightens on the handle of the axe, and I realize I haven’t thought this through. Taking a step back, I slam into another body, and just as I spin around, my wrist is caught in an iron-like grip.
“Let go!” I scream when I recognize Guy smiling down at me.
“This is a pleasant surprise. Come to finish what we started?”
“I came to finish you,” I shout, jerking my arm, trying to get it out of his grip.
“Devin, take this.”
The massive bouncer easily rips the axe out of my hand and tosses it into the darkness where it clatters against the concrete floor far away from us.
“We’re not to be disturbed,” he tells the man as he holds up a gold business card.
Devin steps to the side, opening the door for us to pass through.
“No!” I shout, falling back. “This is a mistake!”
We’re through the door, and I see the larger room has been set up for a party. Finger foods sit on small plates with several champagne glasses scattered about. Guy doesn’t stop, he continues down the shorter passage to the room we were in last night.
Throwing me ahead of him, he closes the door behind him and locks it.
“Let me go,” I shout. “I said I’d do this to protect her, and you violated that agreement. You hurt her, and you’re—”
He crosses the room to speak directly in my face. “I told you everything is mine. I took what was mine, and now I’ll take you.”
My voice gurgles as his hand clamps around my throat. Heat floods my face, and my eyes burn.
“That’s right,” he says in a soothing tone.
I gag and claw at his hand, but his grip doesn’t loosen. I twist and beat his forearm, but he’s too strong. I’m losing consciousness. My hands fall weakly at my sides.
“That’s better,” he continues, loosening his grip just as I’m about to pass out.
I gasp and roll to my side on the small sofa, coughing and covering my neck. I can’t speak. My eyes are blurry and my knees weak. It takes several minutes for me to gather my strength, and he stands over me watching the entire time.
“Poor thing. Now look what you made me do,” he says, holding what looks like a glass of water. “Have some water.”
My eyes are on his, but I take it with trembling hands. He watches as I sniff it, but I don’t smell anything.
“Are you afraid to drink it? You think I don’t want you to fight me?”
I take a tiny sip, holding it in my mouth. It tastes like water, so I drink a little more. It’s salty, and it helps my throat.
He walks to the mantle and looks at his phone. “Take a few minutes to catch your breath.”
The longer I sit, the heavier my eyes grow. My jaw feels slack, and my muscles are like jelly. “Liar.” My words are slurred like I’m drunk. “Fucking liar. What was in that?”
My head is spinning, and I hold the arm of the couch to keep me steady.
“Take off your clothes,” Guy orders, then he tosses a black sleep mask at me. “Put that on and get on your knees. I expect you to be ready when I get back.”
“No.” My head falls forward.
He grabs the top of my hair and jerks my head up, snarling. “Do what I say.” He shoves my head back and roughly ties the mask over my eyes. Then he’s gone.
I’m too weak to remove it, and slipping off the couch to my knees is actually a relief. My hands are on the tops of my thighs, and I feel buzzy. Did Guy want me on my knees? I can’t remember.
A long time seems to pass before the door opens again. This time, the voice I hear is one I absolutely love.
“Lara?”
“Mark?” I turn my head in the direction of his voice, and he’s on his knees beside me.
He pulls the mask off my face, and it takes me several blinks before his face comes into focus. When it does, I lean forward, holding his neck. “You’re here.”
His face contorts, and I don’t understand why he’s not happy to see me. “Why are you doing this?” he asks. “What’s happening?”
Noises break out on the other side of the door. I hear men shouting and what sounds like muffled banging. Mark stands up quick as the door opens.
“Who the fuck are you?” A voice that makes me think of a wild animal snarls from the doorway.
“I’m taking her out of here.” Mark’s hands grip my arms, pulling me to my feet, but all at once, he’s gone.
I look around and see he’s on his hands and knees on the floor.
“Mark?” I drop down beside him, the good feelings dissolving, but still just within reach.
“He’s going to be a problem.” Another man is in the room, and I look up just as the first voice answers.
“No, he’s not. I’ll take care of this fucker.”
His leg flies back, and I scream as he kicks Mark in the chest. A sick Oof! comes from his throat, and he falls on his side.
“No!” I scream, terror cracking my drug-induced haze.
Mark staggers, trying to get to his feet, but the man kicks him again in the stomach. I can’t stop screaming. The men keep kicking him. Blood is on his mouth.
“You want to be a hero?” the man shouts, kicking him again. “Heroes don’t last long around here.”
Blood drools from his mouth, and his head flops to the side.
&n
bsp; “No…” My voice breaks, and I cover my eyes as the thuds of the men beating my love continue. “Stop, please!” I cry.
Mark’s swollen eyes meet mine, and I feel the hot tears slick on my face. He tries to reach for me. I reach for him.
“Lara?” His voice breaks.
The big man kicks him in the head, and his body goes limp.
“Oh, God, no!” Snot covers my upper lip, and my cheeks are hot and wet.
With swollen eyes I watch them drag Mark out of the room. His face is black with bruises already forming and blood flows from his mouth, but he’s not fighting. Sick fills my stomach as fear creeps in. He’s dead.
“What is this?” Guy is back.
“Got ourselves a hero,” Wolf-man taunts.
“Take that body away. You know what to do.”
The men leave, dragging Mark away, and Guy comes to me. “My little angel, did that frighten you?”
His voice is strange, but the haze floods my brain again. The calm feelings are back. “Why did they do that?”
He wipes my face with something soft and pulls my sweater over my head. “Let’s do this.”
The mask is back, and I’m in darkness. He takes a handful of hair from my shoulder and jerks my head to the side as his lips press against my neck, hands fumbling with my jeans.
A startled cry flies from my throat, but my feelings are flat. He clutches my breast, squeezing it repeatedly. He’s sucking my neck, and as he presses himself against me, I feel his erection hard on my leg.
I don’t want this…
The thought passes through my mind completely detached from my body. It’s like a strange beast is at my side groaning, pulling, and licking my skin. I try to slide away from him, but he grabs my waist, pushing me forward onto my hands and knees.
“Yes,” he hisses, and he’s at my backside again.
I feel him ripping the thong, pulling it away until I’m completely bare except for the mask. I want to curl into a ball, but his hand fists my hair, holding me up. I try to pull against his hold, and he only laughs, shoving me face-first into the carpet and gripping my arms behind me.
