Page 32 of De Luca: The Saint

“I don’t have anything, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Hanging my head down, I speak low. Every second she’s gone, I come further undone, “No, I’m not okay. I need to find her. Even if she wants nothing to do with me, I have to know she’s safe. I can’t fucking breathe.”

The sound of his heavy footsteps echoes over the phone. I already knew he’d be pacing, “Maybe you should stay here tonight.”

“Absolutely not, I’m staying here in case she comes back.”

He doesn’t say she won’t come back although we both know she probably won’t. My chest tightens further as I say out loud, “I’m never going to see her again.”

Domenic doesn’t tell me I’m wrong because he knows there’s a good chance I won’t. I appreciate that about my brother. He doesn’t sugarcoat shit. I don’t need some positivity bullshit about how it’ll all work out. The fact is, even though I did nothing wrong, her heart is broken. Katherina is on the run from me. That’s a hard pill to swallow.

“I’m gonna go try to find her. I’ll talk to you later.”

I don’t wait for a response before disconnecting the call. After letting my security team know that if she comes back, not to let her leave, I head out on foot.

I spend the first few hours checking stores but come up empty. She refused my credit card and I’m sure she’d be smart enough to not use it now anyway. The quickest way to find her would be by tracing purchases. All the tip money she had is gone after buying a non-refundable bus ticket that she never used. Kat is not the type to steal, so it makes no sense. Where would she go?

Benji called me about an hour ago, saying she wasn’t at the motel.

I called the hospitals, but there’s nobody there by that name. I’m not sure she would’ve been listed under her true identity. Wandering aimlessly for hours, I don’t find her. With every minute she’s gone the further from me she gets. That, of course, decreases my odds of ever finding her. The pain in my chest increases, not finding her isn’t a fucking option.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Damian

At just after three o’clock in the morning, Benji calls me.

“Yeah,” I answer in a near bark.

“Hey man, I’ve been watching street cameras. You’re not going to like this, but your girl got another job.”

I blow out a breath in relief. I’ll find her if she got a job.

“Where?”

He groans, “The Cat House.”

I stand frozen, not believing his words because Katherina would never do that. She’s not the type, and I tell him as much, “Impossible.”

Benji speaks like you might to an animal ready to attack, his words spoken in a soothing tone, “I know she’s not like that but when someone is desperate for cash, they’ll do whatever they need to.”

“Call Stefan, I may need backup. I’m going to get her.”

He chuckles, “On it, I thought that might be your reaction.”

My blood is fucking boiling. I know she’s hurt, and I get it. If someone told me she was pregnant by another man, I’d lose my mind. But this? Letting other men fucking touch her? No, this will not do. I sprint back to my house and get my car, speeding to the seediest strip club in the area.

KAT

After three tequila shots, I make my first appearance on stage. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Desperate times call for desperate measures, I guess. The fact is, I have four dollars and twelve cents in my bank account. That’s not going to take me far. When Vinny, the owner of Cat House, handed me his card at Devil a week ago, I laughed it off. I would never take my clothes off for money. No judgment against women who do, but it was something I knew I’d never do, until everything changed on a dime.

I have to get away from here. I can’t possibly work at Devil even though I know my job is being held for me. Can you imagine running into the man you love at work with his baby mama, future wife? Just thinking of seeing Damian and Angelica together makes me physically ill.

A bus ride to Las Vegas will cost me five-hundred-nineteen-dollars and forty-three cents plus tax, and it will take sixty hours to get there. If I could wait a few weeks, which I can’t, it’d be closer to two hundred fifty dollars. Either way, I don’t have enough money. I could ask Emily for a loan, but I’d rather degrade myself by getting naked for strangers than do that. Whenever money is exchanged between friends, things always seem to change. That’s not a risk I’m willing to take.

The man standing in front of me with a twenty-dollar bill snaps me from my thoughts, “Come here, Sweetheart,” he says, and when I squat down in front of him, I fight back the urge to vomit. He smells like a mixture of stale beer and body odor. He tucks the dirty bill in my bra between my breasts and smiles the kind of grin the bad guy in a horror movie wears, “I’d like to take you to a private room, baby.”

Shivers break out over my skin as the revulsion sets in. My entire being wants to scream no, but of course, that’s not an option. I need the money, and one hour in a private room will net me five hundred dollars.

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