Page 27 of Unspoken Lies

Elijah looks at me funny as I rejoin them, and I raise my brow.

“Did you see her this time?” he asks. “That guy over there was bothering her, and I felt really odd while watching them.”

“Elijah was going to go say something when she pulled away from the guy and walked down the back hallway,” Theo grunts. “It just felt weird, and she was so damn familiar.”

“Can we go home?” Elijah asks. “I don’t feel so hot.”

I have a feeling of dread that feels like anxiety, as if we’re standing on the cusp of something.

“Yeah, let’s get out of here and call it early,” I murmur. “Tomorrow’s a big day.”

Our trio strides through the bar, ducking around people as we leave. Voices raise as we walk, and I turn my head enough to see the guy I encouraged to come back into the bar get decked.

Karma, it has a way of coming for you. Somehow, we’ve managed to stay ahead of it, I’m just unsure how long our luck will last.

LILIANA

I almost got roofied last night! I’m still fuming as I walk through the parking lot to my destination. I’m so pissed I’m seeing red. After this, I’m planning to go to kill the fucker. Dad gave me the green light, and Maurice has graciously offered one of his rooms at the warehouse.

A tub of my special concoction will ensure this college kid is never found. His body will become gelatin and then be disposed of. If I’m honest with myself, while I’ve had a few kills while I’ve been here, it’s not nearly enough. A good old fashioned kidnapping, torture for interrogation, and then killing session will put me in a better mood.

It’s the equivalent to sex for me now.

I heard Jared’s voice as I was leaving the college bar, but I chose not to turn back last night. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with him, and I’m sure that encounter wouldn’t have ended happily.

I need to find out where these drugs are coming from. Maurice’s little shit of a son and I had words and it’s not him. He lost the edge of his pinky and squealed like a little pig for his trouble, and he agreed not to tell his father.

Mr. Emil wasn’t happy, but I reminded him that I’m here to get results, and this is taking too damn long.

A search through the hospital records last night showed that there have been three women and one man admitted in that have been raped. They claim they don’t remember anything, their blood tests showing the date rape drug in their bloodstream. I may not be Theo, but I can get by on my skills.

That’s too many damn people to be checked in with the above things, and every day I don’t find the supplier selling the drug, is another day someone could be hurt. I’m fucking angry with myself that this asshole is eluding me.

As I walk, I take in the quiet Montecito neighborhood, which is funnily enough where I almost ran someone over. There’s a pretty sign that saysCellie’s Mystics, and there are a variety of people who walk in.

The fact that this is a speakeasy’s front is adorable to me. I’ve never heard of a concept like this, and the umbrella corporation that developed it actually has a law office as its contact information.

It’s very curious.

Opening the door, I find one person with gorgeous black and purple streaked hair browsing through shelves that seem to overflow with treasures.

“Welcome,” a woman calls out without glancing over as she rings someone up, and I decide that I’m already in love.

The speakeasy could fucking suck, but this little shop would have made my outing today worth it. Tonight is my night off from stupid college kids and punk criminals.

I’m going to let loose and then go about my planned kidnapping. I deserve to let off some steam. I need a break from the cheap beer at the college bars, and my fake ID will get me in here without an issue.

“Thank you,” I say softly out of habit as I walk around.

There’s jewelry, crystals, interesting candles and books on the shelves. My phone buzzes as I explore, and I have a very strong feeling that it’s my father. I’m wearing my tracker bracelet, which means that he knows I’ve arrived.

Pulling it from my leather pants, I glance at the message.

Dad:

Do not accept a drink from anyone. I know you’re an adult, but they’re mixing the GHB with rohypnol now. You’re flying solo, and that shit will knock you out.

Me: