“She was like this?”
“She was on the floor and some guy was laughing as he tried to pick her up,” Nicole said, scowling.
Violet shuddered at her friend’s implication. “She was fine before?”
“A little drunk. We all are.”
True enough.
“Did she take anything?” Violet asked.
It wouldn’t be such a shock if that’s what Amelia had done. They weren’t entirely innocent. Sometimes, they experimented with different things, but they were always careful about it and stayed together.
Nicole shook her head. “She would have said something. Someone might have dropped something on her. Can we just get her out of here before something else happens?”
That sounded like a good idea.
Violet moved forward, grabbing Amelia’s arm and helping Nicole to move their friend away from the wall. It wasn’t easy, considering Amelia seemed to have the balance of a baby that couldn’t walk.
“You girls need some help?” came a voice from behind them.
Violet glanced back at the person who had asked the question. It was the same fool from earlier, who had tried kissing her neck after she’d told him not to. He had “bad” written all over him—and not in a good kind of way.
“No, we’re—”
Violet’s words cut off when someone slammed into Nicole from the other side of their three-person chain. She went sprawling to the floor, along with her friends. Above the music, people, and someone’s apologies, she heard what sounded like the crunch of glass.
“Shit,” Violet muttered, reaching for Amelia.
Nicole was doing the same, but a thick streak of red dripped down her arm, and she had tears in her eyes. “Someone dropped a glass,” her friend said in explanation.
It looked pretty bad—deep.
Chances were, Nicole needed to get that checked out.
Great.
Like Nicole could read her mind, she said, “Let’s just worry about getting Amelia out of here, okay?”
Violet nodded, and the two got Amelia back on her feet and moving toward the door again.
Unfortunately, a bull of a man stepped in front of them, stopping the girls entirely. His thick, tall build forced Violet to look up at gray eyes and a scowling face. He pointed at Amelia.
“What’s wrong with that one?” he asked.
Violet’s mouth clamped shut.
Nicole spoke instead. “Nothing, she’s drunk.”
“She would have been escorted out already,” the man said.
The hint of an accent colored up the man’s tone, making his words sharp and quick. She didn’t recognize it right away, not with his first question. But with his second, his r’s sort of rolled off his tongue, and that was when Violet knew exactly what accent the man sported.
She had only heard it a couple of times in her life, and never firsthand.
Russian.
“She’s on something, yes?” the man asked.
“No,” Violet argued. “And we’re leaving.”
“You’re not leaving yet. I won’t have the cops showing up here because some girl got mixed up and found herself in the hospital after being at my club.”
Violet straightened, panic swelling in her throat. “We’re taking her—”
He pointed at Nicole. “She is bleeding.”
Thank you, Captain Obvious.
Violet really just wanted to get the hell out of there.
“Can we just go?” Nicole asked, her voice betraying her panic, too.
“Yes,” the man said.
Violet let out the breath she’d been holding.
“Shortly,” he added with a cold smile.
Wonderful.
The man jerked his head to the side and said, “Take them to my office, and we’ll go from there.”
Violet didn’t get the chance to ask what he meant before someone was grabbing her arm from behind and separating her from her friends. She chose not to fight against the bull-like man wearing all black as he pulled her along through the curious crowd that had suddenly quieted and was watching the show.
At least they were getting their money’s worth for the entrance fee.
After a short walk through a back hallway, Violet and her friends were shuffled into an office that was far bigger than what she was expecting, considering how it looked from the outside. There was a couch along the back wall, two stuffed armchairs, and a large mahogany desk that dominated the space. Bookshelves were built into the walls with rows of books and tombs on various subjects lining them. Though the decor was understated, there was definitely a masculine feel to it.
The man who had stopped them earlier waved at his counterparts, and the three men who had escorted the girls into the space disappeared before the office door shut. Amelia had been placed on a couch, and Nicole moved to sit beside her.
Violet figured her friend had Amelia handled, so she faced the man who wouldn’t let them leave.
“I—”
“Quiet,” he uttered. “What did she take?”
Violet clenched her teeth. “I don’t know. That’s why we were leaving.”
“Does she need a hospital?”