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“Thank you for, uh, going along with it,” I say, slowly trying to inch off his lap. I can’t move much, because of the fact he’s still holding onto me. Maybe it’s in my head, but it feels like this man doesn’t want to let me go. “Um—” I swallow, and the action makes me exceedingly aware of his fingers curled around my neck.
“Trying to run away from your boyfriend so soon?” He chuckles.
“I need to get back to work,” I whisper.
“I suppose I should let you, then.” The man is unhurried in letting me go, and when he does, he sits back and wears a smug, self-satisfied expression that tells me he enjoyed it far too much. The way his black eyes are so focused on me as I crawl off his lap and get to my own two feet, it’s as if the rest of the club ceased to exist and all he sees is me.
My cheeks flare, and I have to turn away and hurry back to the bar, otherwise I might say something stupid if I stick around longer. It takes every ounce of self-restraint in me to not outright run to the bar.
I guess I should be thankful he went along with it, but at the same time… fuck. Whoever he is, he’s got to be somebody in this city. People know his name, I bet, whereas I’m a no-name, no-face girl who grew up learning to take care of herself.
Someone like me could never really get someone like him.
The evening wears on. Live music starts at seven, filling the air with soft piano playing. No singer tonight. Twenty minutes later, I feel my phone buzz in my back pocket, and I slip into the backroom to check it.
Max sent me a message and a picture. This is the target. The picture is grainy, not the best quality by any means. It was clearly taken from a distance, the zoom feature not good enough to pick up all the details of the guy’s face.
But the moment I see the man in the picture, I know exactly who he is.
Our kidnapping target?
He just so happens to be my new boyfriend.
Chapter Two – Thea
Shit. Fuck. Goddamn it.
Of course, out of everyone in the club, it has to be him. Couldn’t be literally any other guy. Nope. Has to be the one who helped get me out a sticky situation with an asshole who wouldn’t take no for an answer.
I lock my phone screen, slide it back into my pocket, and muster up the courage I need to do what I have to do before leaving the backroom. I’m going to roofie the man who helped me out. What a nice way to thank him.
Discreetly slipping something into a drink is something I practiced dozens of times at home with Max’s supervision. I’m not an expert by any means, but I do know how to do it without staring at the drink, while slowly looking around and making sure no one else is watching what I’m doing.
I wait until our target needs another refill, and then I make him a drink he won’t forget.
Or maybe he will and the drugs will make all of this fuzzy in his head. I don’t know. I don’t know how this’ll work, but Max says after the drink is passed off to our target, he’ll take it from there.
Don’t ask me how. Max said it’s better if I don’t know all the details, just in case something goes wrong.
I get one of the waiters to take it over to the target, and then it’s a waiting game. Not going to lie, my nerves are shot. It takes everything in me to not shake as I mix drinks for other members of the club. I hope my face doesn’t scream I’m guilty, but who can be sure?
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch the man down his drugged drink. He probably thinks I sent him another to thank him for helping me out. Target has officially ingested the drugs. I don’t know exactly how long it’ll take for them to kick in, but he’s a big guy, so it might be a while.
And then what? Max said not to worry. He said he’ll leave the club once he starts feeling a little woozy, and he’ll handle it from there.
But what if the guy doesn’t leave the club? What if he just passes out in the booth? There’ll be no kidnapping and ransoming then.
Oh, yeah. Whoever this guy is, he’s important. His family’s got money or something. I knew that already with him being a member of this club, but for him to be our target, he must be something special. Max refused to tell me who, in case I got cold feet. Probably a good idea on his part.
After the target ingests the drugged drink, time crawls by. I try not to keep looking over at him, but it’s difficult for me. I want to throw up. I’m not the world’s biggest criminal; tonight is a night of firsts for me, but drugging and kidnapping a guy for money is a whole different level most criminals in this city will never reach.
This isn’t petty theft. This guy, whoever he is, is a bigwig. Important. And we’re going to kidnap him.
The moment the guy stands and feels his head, the world stops. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as he tries to shake it off, but he can’t. He pulls out his phone and his fingers work overdrive as he, I’m assuming, contacts his driver to pick him up. I slip into the back so he doesn’t see me before he walks by, shuffling his feet a little too much.
Don’t want him to see me and get suspicious.
The door to the backroom has a small square window, and it’s through that window I peek out and watch the guy push past the bouncers and leave the club. His shoulders were looking mighty slumped; I’d say the drugs are definitely kicking in.
