Her smooth arms rested across my chest, levitating with the rhythm of my breathing. Although we were perfectly still, soaking in the afterglow of another perfect night together, I could feel her staring up at me, her warm, honey-colored eyes reaching for me in the darkness. I rolled over slightly, angling her body against mine so she was cradled into me.
I felt something wet against my skin. And then, muffled softly, was her voice stifling back a cry. I ran my hand through her long hair, tracing it all the way down to her back and hips. She stirred a bit, taking notice of herself. Kylie removed her hand from my chest and dotted away the tears with the inside of her palm. She hated when I saw her like this.
She whispered up towards me, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to cry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. Just tell me if I’m doing something wrong.” I continued to stroke her hair and neck, using my finger to curl the little ringlets of her hair in small circles.
She backed away a bit and caught my eyes. She touched my face, covered in stubble from not shaving, as she reassured me, “It’s not you. The last six days here have been perfect, absolutely perfect.”
Kylie was right. From the moment we made love on the balcony, we had spent almost a week recreating that session over and over again in various places around the condo and in my SUV after a trip to the grocery store. Each time got better, deeper, as I felt her opening up to me not just physically but emotionally.
But, still, she cried every night as I held her. I could tell behind her cool reassurances and promises that she feels all right, nothing is straight in her head. She couldn’t stop thinking about the man she most likely murdered and the home she left behind. And now that finals were over, she couldn’t even go back to school. Her dorm room had long been packed up, and the university was still refusing to hear from her despite the pleas she made over the phone and via email.
So we stayed here together in our cocoon, each pretending that everything was okay and that nothing in the outside world would ever find us. At least, we made believe until we lay down, each tired from talking, each wrestling with the possibilities in our head.
I suddenly sat up, removing her from my body. I was tired of this. I was tired of running. I looked back down at her and firmly spoke my mind, “Kylie, this is it. We need to go back. We have to face it.”
“I can’t. I can’t. You know that. They’ll just take me away to jail or, worse, the gang will catch me, and who knows what they’ll do to the both of us. I still haven’t heard from Lana in days.”
She was right. Lana’s silence had worried both of us, though I had tried to play it cool by reasoning that she was just spending time with her family. “Lana is all right. She can take care of herself; you know that. But if we want to get these guys, we need to let the professionals handle it.”
“How, Will? How? We don’t know who they are. We just know they're rich and powerful and they finance the porn shoots in town.”
“Wait! What did you say? How do you know they back the porn shoots?” I missed this detail, but it could be big, a way to crack the case.
“It’s just something one of the guys said. I don’t know if it’s true. They recognized me because they saw me in the shoot with Julie. They called her by name and talked about how they were the money and I was the tits and ass.” She curled her knees to her chest, covering herself up with her own body.
“That’s it! That’s the clue!” I was practically leaping off the bed as I grabbed a pair of jeans from my duffle bag. She looked at me completely baffled by my sudden change. I grabbed my cell from the dresser and began dialing. As it rang, I explained my plan, “If those guys are who they say they are, there is only one guy who can help us, the guy who knows everything about the Vegas porn scene!”
An excited man answered the other line, “Oh look who’s calling me!” I could barely make Daniel’s voice out over the sound of club music in the background. He must have been at his second job managing the nightclub Kylie used to work at.
“Listen, Daniel! I need your help. I know you don’t want to help me, but Kylie and I are in trouble. Do you know who has been funneling the money to the porn shoots in town?”
“Yeah, I do. And I know they’re looking for you and Kylie. They came here two days ago. Trashed the place screaming about how she killed some guy. You two are in some deep shit.” He laughed manically as if it were one big joke.
“Daniel, who were they? Where do they work?” My teeth were clenched tight as I tried my best not to scream at him. If I could, I’d reach through the phone and ring his neck myself.
He paused, weighing his options. “I’ll tell you, but not because I like you but because I hate these guys as much as you two apparently do. They’ve been jacking up my interest rates like mad and threatening to kill me when I don’t pay in time. They’re a gang working out of Potter’s Casino. They work for the boss, Tommy DeLanco.”
I repeated him so Kylie could hear. If she recognized the name, she could help confirm it. I watched as she cringed visibly, looking away nervously.
Daniel continued, giving me a warning, “Look, I don’t want to help you two. Hell, I wouldn’t mind if both of you end up dead after this, but you should know they’re looking for you, too. They know you two aren’t just business partners. And by something they mentioned, I think they’re on their way towards your place in California.”
My stomach turned. They found us before I could find them. Slowly, I replied, “Thanks, Daniel. I’ll repay you back soon.” I make promises I can keep. I’d see he gets his dues for giving us the information.
But he brushed it off, hanging up as he cackled, “That’s if you live!”
The phone went quiet as I ran to pack up the discarded clothes off the floor and tossed them back to the duffel bag. I emptied Kylie’s drawers as she watched me, more confused than ever. I grabbed her hand, lifting her off of the bed and throwing a low-cut tank top and a pair of new jeans she had yet to wear from our shopping trip.
Her hand grabbed my arm, causing me to stop. I struggled to catch my breath as she stared me down, “What are we doing, Wilder?”
I took her hands in mine, kissing her balled up fists. “Kylie, we’re going back to Vegas. The guys found us and they’re on their way here. We can’t stay here anymore. But, I know who they are, and I can protect you. But we have to do this tonight.”
As soon as I told her we were in danger, she began to panic, her body shaking, her weight sinking to the floor. I propped her back up, leaning her naked body against me. “Get dressed. I’ll get the car running. We just have to make one stop back at the studio and then we’ll be safe at the police station. Okay?”
She nodded, but I could see the fear practically dripping off of her. She couldn’t even buckle the jeans from her trembling hands. I reached out to steady them as I whispered into her ear, “I need you to trust me.”
Her eyes swelled as she peered into mine. Her voice was firm, despite her shaking, as she said, “I trust you.”
The ride back to Vegas went quickly. The night grew darker as we got closer to home. It was nearly two when I pulled into the studio. Kylie was fast asleep, so I didn’t bother moving her. Instead, I left the car running as I headed inside in search of the bloody lingerie I cut from her the night she stumbled half conscious into my studio.
Once I retrieved the ziplock bag from the locked desk, I walked back outside into the cool night air. But I instantly felt a shift. My SUV wasn’t running anymore and Kylie wasn’t sitting in the front seat with her head slumped against her shoulder. No one was in the car.
I ran around to the side, hoping to find her at the trunk. As I circled the back, I felt something sharp as my ear began to ring a piercing, buzzing sound. I dropped to my knees, clutching the spot where my head wouldn’t stop pounding. When I looked at my hands they were covered with red.
Before me, a pair of two large, leather boots appeared. A man reached down and grabbed me by the collar and propped me up against the side of my car. He swung with his free hand, landing a crushing blow to my face. I could feel my jaw crack and teeth rattle as my head sprung to the side and smacked into the car’s glass window.
He screamed at me, “You think you two can hide from us? You think I’m going to let that skank whore get away with killing my brother? You must be out of your fucking mind. Thank your pal Daniel for giving you away. We didn’t have to do a thing but wait for you to get back.”
The man hit me again, this time with the metal handle of a black gun. It landed on my eye, causing everything to go dark. I heard a scream, Kylie’s scream in the distance. I dropped, falling next to the wheel of my car. The boot I saw approach me kicked me in the chest, crushing a few of my ribs and knocking all of the air out of my lungs in one blow. He repeated himself again and again, each time robbing me more and more of my life.
I heard a second man scream to Kylie, “You must like this, you dirty bitch! That last porn you made with him torturing you was all about this shit. Now you get to see how we cause pain. I bet you’re turned on right now.” She cried out again, this time a long howl, as he added, “I bet you’re already wet at the thought of all the things we’re going to do to you.”
I spat out the blood forming in my mouth, just enough to scream a curdled cry at him, “Don’t you fucking touch her!” I tried to pull myself to my hands and knees but another boot landed into my gut. I fell onto my back.
Someone leaned close to me as he softly said, “Don’t worry, Wilder. We’ll take good care of her. But if you come after her, if you chase us, I’ll kill her. You got me?”
I, again, tried to roll over, but it was too late. There was a flash of light, my head rocked back and then fell to the cement pavement. Everything was black and wet. And then there wasn’t anything but the ringing in my ear and the memories of her scream replaying in my head.
….
Minutes passed. Then hours. I felt a drip splash on my face. Another. And then another. Suddenly, my entire body was wet, soaked through by the early morning rain. It stung against my battered and bruised skin. But, still, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even manage to lift my head off the ground. Every part of me felt broken. Still, I had to try. I had to try for Kylie.
Bits of gravel stuck to my coat as I used my body weight to rock gently until I landed lightly on my stomach. A searing pain rose from around my chest. My hand, swollen and purple held against my rib, as if it were holding the beaten bones together. I fished inside the jacket, feeling the bag with Kylie’s blood-stained lingerie still protected. Luckily, the guy who beat me to a pulp never spotted this or I would have lost the only evidence I had against them.
I used the other launch off, finally finding my feet. I could only see out of one eye, but I managed to make it around the car, holding myself up against the cold, wet SUV. The keys were still inside, lucky for me. I managed to get my hips into the driver’s seat and turn the car on. Even the rev of the engine was painful as my body rattled from the slight vibrations. My shoulder pounded as I put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway.
It was only minutes to the police station off of the Vegas strip, but it felt like an eternity. Every stoplight took days. Every turn passed the hours. I knew I was speeding, just trying to make it to help before it was too late. Kylie needed me to be unbreakable. This was not my time to fall apart.
When I finally pulled into the police station’s lot, I opened the door and fell out of the car, my hands catching me at the ground. I heard a commotion around me as an officer getting out of his own car spotted me.
“Woah, buddy! Are you all right?” He lifted me by the chest, thinking I’m some dumb drunk who managed to drive himself right to the police station. But he stopped when he saw my face. It was twice the size it should have been and the blood was still streaming down my cheek from the cut near my eye. He put me back down gently as he said, “Jesus! What the fuck happened to you?”
I heard him call for help with his police talkie and, in seconds, there were other officers surrounding me, all asking me questions I could barely answer.
The first cop cleared them, asking me slowly, “Who did this to you?”
I squeaked out the only thing I knew to be true, “Potters. The casino. Potters’ gang.”
A glimmer of recognition crossed his face as he looked up at a partner. “He said Potters’ gang. They’re at it again. Call Detective Alistar. He’ll want to know.” He turned his attention back to me. “Don’t worry. We called an ambulance. It’ll be here in seconds.”
I grabbed his arm, pulling him closer as I commanded him, “No! You don’t understand. They have Kylie. My girl. They took her and they’re going to kill her.”
He was getting impatient with me. His voice hovered around annoyed, “Detective Alistar will take care of it. He’s been trying to catch this gang for years. He knows where their warehouses are. If someone was taken, he’ll find her.”
I couldn’t even hear him and his fake reassurances. I called out her name into the gray and hazy skies, “Kylie! Fuck! I have to save her! I have to save her!”
An older man, balding and overweight ran out of the station doors. He was dressed in plain clothes, a gray suit with a red tie to match his red skin. He spotted the crowd and ran toward me. His gruff voice skipped the pleasantries as he asked, “Potters’ gang got you bad. What did they want from you? Drugs? Money?”
“My girl. They took her.” I held on to his tie, gripping him closer. “I’m not going anywhere until we find her.”
Alistar snapped his fingers and commanded the officers to bring me inside. One tried to protest, saying they should wait to get me checked out at the hospital, but he understood that I wouldn’t give him any more information until I had a chance to tell my story. Four men lifted me and brought me into a small holding room. They propped me up on the metal chair as the detective sat next to me.
I pulled out the ziplock bag and watched as he eyed it. He knew it was evidence and he was practically drooling over it. I began explaining, fighting through the pain that was dragging me down, “My girl Kylie was at a party last week at a mansion outside Vegas. A group of four or five guys tied her up, drugged her, and assaulted her. But before it could go further, she managed to hit a guy over the head with a statue. She thinks she killed him so we ran to California. But they caught up to us, took her, and beat me. They’re going to kill her if we can’t find her.”
The detective handed his assistant the bag, instructing him to run it to the lab. He got some more details from me before asking another officer to send in the paramedics. They had enough info. As he stood, so did I, nearly falling backwards onto the hard ground. I shouted at him, “Where are you going?”
“To go check out this mansion, make sure your story is straight.”
I walked over to him, each step more painful than the next. “I don’t think you heard me, then – they’re going to kill her! We have to go NOW!” When he didn’t budge, I did something bold, grabbing his collar and pushing him into the wall. My mouth filled with blood, again, as I screamed, “You’re going to take your team and me to this warehouse you know of, and you’re going to save her. Do you hear me?”
The paramedic crew walked in, large medical bags in their hands. Another man carried a portable stretcher. They stood back as they saw me holding the detective in my grip. The detective eyed them as they attempted to retreat. His voice showed no fear as he ordered them. “Go back to the van, boys. This one isn’t ready for the morgue yet.”