Part 8 (1/2)
”Please let me go,” Margaret says, her words slurred like she's already under the influence of another drug. ”I won't tell anyone.”
Lucien c.o.c.ks his head and smiles. ”They always say that. I wonder if it's ever worked.”
He taps the syringe, then eases the needle into Margaret's neck. ”Our time has unfortunately been cut short. Thank you for your a.s.sistance. I will remember you as the most helpful one so far.”
Val opened her eyes and the scene evaporated. Sten came into focus, lying on his back next to her, head hung halfway off the side of the bed. He smoked a cigarette and stared at the ceiling.
Finally, she'd seen something useful. What in the world had Sten done to knock that piece of information loose? It's not like she'd never had great s.e.x before-Max still held the top spot-but she'd never been able to focus a vision that well.
”Jesus, Sten,” she said, still short of breath. She felt weak and wet all over, like she'd just stepped out of a hot shower after a brutal workout.
He exhaled a long column of smoke. ”You're welcome.”
”How the h.e.l.l did you do that-”
Val's cell phone rang from inside her tote bag on Sten's sad kitchenette table. A phone call at one thirty in the morning usually wasn't the kind she wanted to ignore. With muscles like jelly, she pushed herself off the bed and retrieved her cell. Her eyes widened when Max's face popped up on her caller ID.
He was calling her? After how their last meeting ended? And why would he call at this time of night? Did he know where she was? He'd never forgive her if he found out, though he already hated her so it really didn't matter. Nor was it any of his business, even if he did know.
She glanced at Sten, still lying on his back as he enjoyed his cigarette. He'd closed his eyes, crossed his legs, and appeared uninterested in Val's phone call-which probably meant he would listen to every word. f.u.c.king Sten.
Val turned away from him. Keeping her voice low, she answered the call. ”Max?”
”Val?” Max said. Club music thumped in the background.
”Yeah.”
”Is this Val?” His voice trembled as if he were on the verge of tears.
”What's wrong?” She'd only heard him this upset once before, when he'd confessed to killing his father in a fit of rage after years of abuse.
For a few seconds she only heard his labored breathing. Then he spoke again, ”Help me.”
She immediately began gathering up her clothes, which she'd tossed at the foot of Sten's bed. ”Where are you?”
”I don't know. I was at a party, and then I was underwater, and then there was a house fire, and now there's flas.h.i.+ng lights, and...uh...I dunno...” His words slurred and he trailed off.
She heard a thump, then rustling, as if his phone had dropped to the floor and been picked up again.
A gruff voice replaced Max's. ”Your boyfriend's f.u.c.ked up, honey. He's at the Green Door Nightclub. Come get his a.s.s outta here.” He hung up.
”s.h.i.+t,” Val muttered. She rushed to throw on her clothes.
”Leaving already?” Sten asked. ”The night's still young. So many possible futures to see.”
”Lucien Christophe's torturing Margaret in a lab somewhere,” Val said as she pulled her jeans on. ”Find a reason to go to his house or business or wherever he's keeping her and stop him.”
”Is this Lucien guy rich and white, like his name suggests?”
”Yes.”
”Then no.”
Val scowled at him. ”You're disgusting.”
”Your f.u.c.k visions aren't quite enough for a warrant, especially against a guy who can afford a fleet of lawyers, sorry.”
Val slipped on her sneakers and threw her hair, still moist with sweat, into a ponytail. She felt incredibly dirty-in more ways than one-but there was no time for a shower. ”Fine. Just lie there and be incompetent. Why stop now, right?” She grabbed her tote and walked toward the door.
”Hey,” Sten said with a sharpness that made her pause. He rolled onto his side toward her and nodded at his cell phone on the nightstand. ”Give me your phone number. Your real number, not the burner you called me with.”
Val stared him down. She hadn't agreed to any deal with him, though she sort of had agreed. If she needed to have s.e.x with someone for the purpose of saving people's lives, and wallow in some dirty pleasure to escape her s.h.i.+tty existence, it might as well be him. He did have a...special touch. She had no idea what he planned to ask of her later, but she knew she'd come to regret it. Too late now. She programmed her name and number into his phone, then let it drop next to his ashtray.
”I am not your on-call wh.o.r.e.”
He belly-laughed. ”Last time I checked, you were the one using me for s.e.x.”
Val scowled at him, but couldn't argue. What's he using me for, then? She hurried out the door before he could proffer any more embarra.s.sing truths.
Chapter Thirteen.
The Green Door Nightclub thumped with life. Black silhouettes gyrated around Val while wild rainbows lit up the ceiling and bathed half-naked dancers in suspended cages. Though Val wasn't exactly dressed for the occasion, the bouncer let her through after she explained she was there to fetch her ”f.u.c.ked-up boyfriend.” Val pushed through the crowd until she reached a bar in the opposite corner. She flagged down the bartender.
”My friend's pa.s.sed out somewhere,” she yelled over the music. ”Is there something like a drunk tank in here?”
”A what?” the bartender said, distracted by trio of intoxicated women screaming drink orders at him.
”f.u.c.ked. Up. Boyfriend.”
He pointed to a spot on the second floor, underneath a neon collage of foul words. Val nodded her thanks, then weaved through clubbers to where he'd motioned. A couple of bouncers blocked her path, standing guard over a set of VIP tables overlooking the dance floor.
”f.u.c.ked-up boyfriend?” she said. They nodded to each other. Apparently ”f.u.c.ked-up boyfriend” was the code phrase for exclusive access in this place.
One of the bodyguards led her to a sectioned-off area with a half-moon couch, sandwiched on both ends by cages holding a topless man and woman, respectively, covered in body paint and writhing to the music. Max slouched in the middle of the couch, eyes closed and arms and legs splayed like he'd pa.s.sed out there. She rushed to him and knelt at his side.
”Max?”
He didn't respond.
”Max.” When he still didn't move, she looked at the bodyguard. ”How long has he been like this?”
The bodyguard shrugged.
”How did he get here?”
He shrugged again, then walked away. Val couldn't tell if he didn't know or wouldn't say; probably the latter.