Page 121 of Faded Gray Lines
The waitress who’d tried to handle Leighton when she was piss-ass drunk met me in the hallway. She wasn’t smiling.
“Where’s Emilio?” I demanded.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, wringing her hands. “I don’t know where anyone is. Sarah never showed up for work. She didn’t call or anything. Emilio was already pissed, but he got a phone call then ran out of here earlier mad as hell. No one has seen him since.”
I walked away during the second wave of her rant. I’d heard enough. Grabbing my phone, I dialed while climbing into the Tahoe. Once he picked up, there wasn’t time for a greeting.
“Emilio has Leighton,” I said, slamming my foot on the gas.
Forty-One
Leighton
I triedto open my eyes, but they felt too heavy—stuck even. In a moment of confusion, I wondered if they’d been glued shut. It would make sense.
No. It wouldn’t make sense. That was stupid. No sane person did something like that.
Concentrating harder, I tried again, this time forcing them open just enough for a sharp ray of light to pierce through my retina and set it on fire.
Oh, God, why does my head hurt so bad?
I blinked, which caused the fire to dig into my brain and explode a pain inside my head that nearly made me vomit.
Maybe Ididget hit by bus?
Forcing myself to focus, I lifted my head, staring at the white wall in front of me. It was bare except for a clock, which seemed weird. No pictures. No paintings. Just a clock ticking away the seconds as I wrinkled my forehead and tried to figure out where I was and how I got there.
Ouch.
The skin on my forehead stung, pulling tight every time I moved it.
Hell, did someone glue that too?
Irritated, I lifted my arm to run my fingers across it but stilled when it tugged against something tight and restrictive. Panic swelled in my throat, but I continued to jerk, only succeeding in pulling the muscle in shoulder.
Because they werebehindme. My wrists were taped behind me. I was bound to a chair.
“What happened?” I swallowed, my mouth feeling like sandpaper.
“Welcome to the party, little lamb.”
I knew that voice. I’d heard it before. I frantically scanned the room, but seeing no one, I forced my mind to think back. The answer was somewhere in my memory.
I was in a car. Someone was yelling at me. No, I was the one yelling. I was crying. I remembered spinning and then a Good Samaritan saved me.
“You’re welcome, little lamb.”
They were the same voice. He’d picked me up and dumped me into the floor of another car. I squeezed my eyes closed, focusing on seeing his face before I’d passed out. Everything was so hazy.
Then the haze cleared, and I saw his face.
I drew in a sharp breath. Opening my eyes, I widened them as he stepped in front of me, smoothing a finger over his mustache.
“Emilio,” I breathed.
He just grinned. “Hola,señorita. Or should I sayseñora. So, what is this thing you have I’ve been looking for?”
I jerked on my restraints again, searching the room for anything I could use to protect myself if he attacked me. Unfortunately, the room was as bare as the walls. Besides a clock, I saw a table, another chair, a body...
