Page 11 of Celebrity Dirt

“What was that?” Vincent catches our whispered exchange and takes a menacing step toward us. “I don’t like secrets, you know that.” Brushing his suitcoat to the side, he reveals a gun. I jerk backwards, my eyes fixated on it, and accidentally knock the back of my head into Logan’s chin.

“Shit,” Logan grunts.

Vincent pulls it out and waves it in the air. So much for returning this dress. I may have just peed myself.

Logan throws up his hands in surrender. “Hey, now…just telling my girl we’re almost done, so she gets that dance I promised her. Relax, Boss. No harm done.”

Vincent doesn’t believe him. His cold stare holds him captive. I’ve stopped breathing. We’re all in a standoff, waiting for Vincent to make a move. What feels like an eternity later, he lowers his gun. “Finish the job. I want no sign we were here.”

I push my heart that’s now lodged in my throat back down where it belongs. Having your life flash before your eyes is an intense thing. Your mind works in strange ways, like having strange thoughts of pee stains and blood splatter ruining my chances of returning this dress. I breathe a sigh of relief, ready to get the hell off this boat and go home, where I can write down everything that happened while it’s still fresh in my head. Vincent—last name to be determined. Drug mob. Odyssey Cruise coverup. Super attractive employee whose kissing skills should be as illegal as his profession.

“You’re mumbling, stop.”

I look up at Logan. “I’m not. Just trying to keep my facts in order.”

He tugs me forward, walking us toward the stairwell where we came in. “Don’t even think about it. This isn’t a game.”

“No, it’s my job, and there’s no way I’m not writing—”

“Lookie what we found!” The menacing voice of one of Vincent’s men has us turning toward the voice. At his barbaric scowl, I reach for Logan’s hand. I catch movement by Emilio’s feet, and my eyes protrude out of their sockets. By the grip of his fist, he’s holding a girl by her hair. “She’s a runner. A biter, too. Boss, what do you want me to do with her?”

We all stare at the girl, wild with fright. Her glittery dress is ripped, her eyes smeared black from crying. “Who the fuck is that?” Vincent barks.

Emilio throws her forward. She tries to get her feet under her, but trips, scraping her knees on the floor. “Francesca Vaughn. She had the invitation in her purse.” I gasp. Even Logan makes an unsettling sound. “Want me to take her out back, shoot her in the head, and dump her overboard?”

“Wait, that’s not Francesca!” I blurt out.

Logan clutches me too tight to him. His warm breath fans over my ear as he whispers threateningly, “Shut the fuck up.” He steps forward, not easing his grip. “No, you dumb motherfucker. That sure ain’t her.”

“Help! Please!” the girl cries. “I found the invitation at the door. I just wanted to get into the party and meet a celebrity. I heard Lady Gaga was here. Please, I’m sorry!” She breaks into sobs. The goon kicks her, and she howls in pain.

Vincent walks up to her, bending down and grabbing her by the hair. “Do you know what happens to little whores who try to steal from me?”

She sobs again, shaking her head. “I didn’t steal. I found it! Please don’t hurt me.”

Vincent continues, ignoring her plea. “It’s a shame I’m not in the mood to be forgiving.” He stands, addressing his guy. “Take her out back and shoot her.” I jump forward to come to her defense, but Logan stops me. “Or maybe…” He spins around, his eyes landing on Logan. “You should do the honors.” He brings his hand back to his gun, giving Logan a silent message. Do it or else.

Time stands still. I stare at the sobbing, terrified, and confused girl. Her panic-stricken eyes find mine, and like a coward, I look away. She continues to scream for help, and I move closer to Logan for comfort. Don’t freak out. No one’s actually going to shoot an innocent girl. I bring my eyes back to her, silently telling her everything’s going to be okay.

Logan suddenly releases me.

“Wait, where are you going?” I rush out, panicked. He doesn’t answer me, which doesn’t sit well. He isn’t really going to shoot this girl, is he? He may be a bit arrogant, but he hasn’t given off killer vibes. Oh god…

He leaves me standing alone and wraps his hand around her neck, lifting her to stand. My stomach takes a nosedive. He’s going to do it. “Logan…you promised me that dance,” I say, my voice coming out high and unsteady. When his eyes connect with mine, a shiver of reality chills me to my bones. His eyes are devoid of emotion, a cold stare shooting ice-daggers at me.

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