Fall Into You

37

I’ve seen this before. Too many times to count.

When I look back at Dylan, a snarl of fury rumbling through my chest, he turns white.

“She asked me to take her home. She’s sick! Look at her!”

“Oh, I f*****g know she’s sick, my friend. But you’re not taking her anywhere.”

Fear plain on his face, his gaze darts between me and Shay. I see the wheels turning behind his eyes, excuses and lies tripping all over each other on their way out of his mouth.

“Sh-she really had a lot to drink. I was just trying to be a good friend. I just wanted to help.”

“One more f*****g word, and I’ll rip your tongue out of your mouth. Move.”

I shove him so hard, he falls on his ass. As I pull Shay gently from the car, he scrambles to his feet, then runs to the front of the car and crouches there, shaking.

Shay mumbles something incoherent as I gather her into my arms. “Come on, sweetheart. I’ve got you. Lean into me.”

I carry her quickly across the lot to the restaurant. Her head lolls back. Her eyes slide closed. She’s boneless in my arms, like a ragdoll.

Fuck.

Kicking the door open, I carry her inside and back to Emiliano’s office. He’s already on his feet, spreading a blanket over the battered leather sofa against the wall.

“What do we got?”

“Spiked.”

“Doc?”

“Yes. Tell him to hurry.”

He pulls his cell from his pocket and jabs his thick finger onto the screen, dialing a pre-programmed number with one touch. As I lower Shay to the sofa, he speaks a few quiet words into the phone in Spanish. Then he hangs up.

“Here in fifteen.”

My relief is instant. Considering it’s a Friday night, traffic is worse than usual. The ten-mile drive to the beach from here could take an hour. “That’s fast.”

“Got lucky. He was on his way to see the Lakers at Staples Center.”

“They don’t call it that anymore.”

“f**k if I’m callin’ it Crypto-dot-com center. That’s fuckin’ stupid. Need a bucket?”

“Yes. Then go get her friend.”

He turns, pulls a waste basket out from under his desk, and sets it on the floor next to the sofa. Then he leaves, closing the door behind him.

“Shay. Sweetheart, open your eyes. Can you hear me?’

She mumbles something about her head.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m going to help you with your head, okay? Let me roll you over a little bit.”

Careful to support her neck, I roll her to her side, adjusting her head on the cushion. Then I slide the bucket in range and gently grasp her jaw.

“You have to throw up now, baby. You understand? We have to get the bad stuff out of your system.”

“Bad stuff,” she whispers, her voice faint and scratchy. “’Kay.”

I’m encouraged that she’s responsive. Being as gentle as I can, I open her mouth and stick my finger all the way in.

She jerks and retches, grimacing.

“I know, baby. Do it for me. You can do it.”

Hating myself for hurting her but knowing it’s necessary, I shove my finger deeper.

This time, she heaves, makes a sound like she’s dying, and throws up. I pull my hand away and hold the basket in place as she vomits into it, coughing and spitting.

I focus on holding her steady as she continues to retch until there’s nothing left to come up. Then she collapses back against the sofa, groaning.

I pull off my suit jacket, use it to wipe off my hand, and toss it aside. Holding her wrist, I take her pulse. It’s fast and weak, but steady.

I go into the small bathroom attached to the office, wash my hands, and wet a hand towel. I use it to clean Shay’s face.

As I’m wiping off her chin, her lashes flutter. She opens her eyes and whispers my name.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

She mumbles something about riding a pony. I have no idea what she’s talking about, so I smooth my hand over her damp forehead and hope the doctor isn’t delayed.

Emiliano returns with the blonde in tow. The second she spots Shay on the sofa, she drops her handbag on the floor and rushes over, pushing me aside as she sinks to her knees.

“What happened?”

“Her drink was spiked.”

She lifts one of Shay’s eyelids and examines her pupil. She takes her pulse at the vein in her neck. She adjusts the collar of Shay’s blouse, then kisses her forehead. Then she stands and turns to me with a thousand suns exploding into supernovas of hatred in her eyes.

“If you did this to her, I’ll lock you inside your house, set it on fire, and watch you burn. And that’s not a threat, motherfucker. That’s a promise.”

Emiliano and I share a glance. I can tell he’s as impressed as I am.

“I’d never hurt her, Chelsea.”

If she’s surprised I know her name, she doesn’t show it. She just stands there staring at me like some bloodthirsty Viking queen about to launch a war.

“Emiliano, check out the security feed for the last hour at the bar. Keep your eye on guero.”

“Sure thing.” He sits at the desk and starts clicking around on his computer.

Chelsea is still staring bloody murder at me. She shows no signs of panic or fear, or any of the other stress reactions people usually exhibit in these kind of situations. I think if she had a sword in her hand, I’d already be decapitated.

I say gently, “It wasn’t me. I’m her boss—”

“I know who you are,” she cuts in. “I remember you.”

“I remember you too. Shay called you a dangerous creature.”