Page 18 of The Senator: Raphael

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It’s almost five in the morning before I can finally go home. I’m the last of the bartenders to walk out the back door, and when I step onto the alley’s dirty concrete, my stomach drops. There’s no one in sight, not many cars even on the main road. The usual cacophony of Los Angeles traffic is silent, and that’s what is most unsettling. I usually have my earphones on when I walk out of here, but today I want to be alert. I want to hear every sound in case someone follows me.

It’s the same feeling I had eight years ago, when I first moved away from my home. I was always checking my back and watching for anything that seemed off. Gradually, I became less paranoid and started to relax a bit more. But now it feels like I’m back to eight years ago, with fear gripping my gut every time I step outside.

I walk toward the main road, almost running from this dark alley. We’ve asked time and time again to have the lights fixed, at least the one over the employees’ entrance, but Ice seems deaf to our requests. I let out the breath I was holding when I finally reach the end of the narrow passageway.

I take a couple of long strides before noticing the black SUV with tinted windows parked near the alleyway. The front door opens and a big guy with buzzed dark hair steps out, blocking my escape. I turn around, fear gripping my stomach in a vise that makes me almost throw up.

“Miss Argent, can you please come with me?” His deep thunderous voice is menacing enough to make me whimper.

I scurry away without looking back, but he reaches me effortlessly, gripping my elbow and making me turn around. I’m so terrified I can’t even speak. This is it. This is how I’ll die. He promised he would have me found and he did. After ten years, he succeeded.

“Please, Miss Argent, follow us,” he repeats, guiding me toward the back door.

He opens it, gently helps me get into the empty back seat, and then closes the door. He makes his way to the driver seat and starts the car. I reach out and try to open the door next to me, but it’s obviously locked. He glances at me to the rearview mirror and frowns.

“It won’t take long,” he tells me in a calm tone.

He seems almost wanting to reassure me, but why? My death will be fast? They’re not going to torture me before ending my life?

I start to sob, and my stomach hurts as I watch the empty streets beyond the tinted glass. A few days. I just needed a few days to disappear again. And instead I walked straight into my own death. A kiss. It was just a fucking kiss on the cheek.

The black SUV enters the empty warehouse and a painful grip tightens my stomach.

“Are you nervous?” Matthew asks.

I glance at my friend and frown. He has an unreadable expression, but he seems more amused than pissed, like he was a few hours ago. When I told him I approached Silver at the nightclub, he almost punched me in the face and pointed out that someone could have filmed us and shared it online. I was there to get the name of the woman who turned my day upside down with a kiss, since he couldn’t get it by talking with the girl who answered the phone. I know Ice, the piece of shit who runs that place, and it took me five minutes to know not only her name but also her phone number and address. I hate that guy.

“Why should I be?”

“I don’t know, maybe because she almost clawed your eyes out when you tried to talk to her?” Now he’s holding back a laugh.

I turn to Dave who shakes his head innocently. He’s the one who told my best friend that. I certainly didn’t share this information with him. I glare at him, but you can’t intimidate the guy even if you point a gun at his face.

“I’m not nervous.” I totally am. She freaked out when I approached her, and her reaction threw me off balance. I get being a private person who doesn’t want to end up on the gossip sites, but she seemed to be overreacting a bit to a situation that can easily be solved by my staff.

When Jordan, one of my father’s men, opens the back door of the SUV, nobody comes out. I glance at Matthew and his frown tells me he’s puzzled too. Jordan reaches into the car and drags out Silver from the back seat. When my eyes meet her face, my heart sinks.

She’s a mess. Puffy eyes, makeup running down her face, red nose.

“What the hell happened?” I march toward her terrified face.

“You? You’re the fucking prick who kidnapped me?” she hisses angrily in my face.

“What? I didn’t kidnap you, I just wanted to talk to you in a more private place, as you pointed out not even four hours ago. I offered you a ride,” I answer, annoyed. I’m not used to this kind of dramatics.

She scoffs and crosses her arms over her chest, no longer fearful now. Considering the fury blazing in her eyes, I’m concerned for my safety.

“A ride? A fucking ride?” she shouts. “Your felon here approached me without any explanation, forced me into a car and drove for half an hour in total silence into a shitty neighborhood, ending the joyride in this decrepit warehouse. And you’re telling me you were giving me a fucking ride? I thought I was going to die, you dumbass!”

I’m speechless. Utterly speechless. What she’s describing sounds right out of a nightmare. I chose this place because a friend of my father owns it and I knew nobody would bother us here.

I turn to Jordan. “You didn’t tell her anything? I asked you to pick her up because I had other things to do, not to terrorize her like we’re mafia mobsters!”

The guy doesn’t even look concerned. He just stares at me blankly without saying a word. I swear I will never again use one of my father’s men for a delicate job. He thinks he’s living in a gangster movie.

“I promise this was not my intention. Jesus, I would have been scared too,” I say more calmly.

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