“Thanks for coming out with me,” I said, throwing my arms around her.
Gemma laughed. “Anytime girl, I wish we could hang out more.”
Me too. But I didn’t want to think about the future, or why I shouldn’t be going out with her. I just wanted to dance, and hang out with my best friend.
A few songs later, my shimmy had turned into a stumble.
“What was in that drink?” I said, alarmed at how slurred my voice sounded. Mentally I counted back through the drinks we had. I’d grown up with alcohol, I should not be this drunk after so few drinks.
“What?” Gemma asked with a giggle, falling back into a random guy’s arms.
Before I could respond, a large hand circled around my waist. With a startling amount of effort, I swiveled my head towards the source. The blond guy who’d tried to hit on me earlier.
He smiled at me, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Good to see you again,” he said.
I tried to push his arm off, but it was like my body was moving in slow motion and I was shoving at concrete. Alarm bells echoed in my brain. Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
“Get off me,” I slurred, and tried to step out of his grasp.
He ignored me, and his arm tightened around me. When he ground his erection into my back, I thought I was going to throw up.
My eyes snapped to the person who’d given me my drink: Gemma. Was she working with the Italian mafia or our rivals at the Morozov Bratva? Had she slipped something in it?
I shook my head. No, I was being paranoid. And if her dance moves were an indicator, she’d been drugged too.
I closed my eyes, and focused on the symptoms quickly debilitating me. My stomach sank as I realized this was some new street drug that I hadn’t developed an immunity to.
And I couldn’t just pick one of the antidotes I’d packed in my purse just in case. The interactions to an unknown drug would be just as likely to set my heart into aFib as reduce the symptoms.
On the plus side, the man’s tank top revealed that he didn’t have a single tattoo. But even if he wasn’t part of the underworld, he’d either been behind my drugging or preyed on girls who were inebriated.
Either way, I needed to get out of here.
Gemma’s eyes were lolling back into her head, and the guy behind her kept dancing against her.
Fuck. I needed to save both of us, and it felt like a herculean task just to turn my head. The blond’s erection grew as I tried to take a step away from him.
Nausea bubbled up my stomach and hope along with it. After all, what guy wanted a girl who was puking?
“I’m going to throw up,” I said, clutching my stomach and turning my head back to the guy.
Instead of recoiling like I’d hoped, a smirk crossed his face.
“Get out of the way, my girlfriend’s going to puke,” he yelled, tugging me along with him. All I could do was stare at him as he practically dragged me across the dance floor.
“No,” I tried to enunciate, but no one could hear me over the pounding music.
I grabbed a random hand in the crowd. A bewildered girl turned towards me when I refused to let go.
“P-please,” I said.
“I’m sorry, my girlfriend’s really drunk.” The guy patted my head condescendingly. “Her best friend called me to come pick her up when she said she didn’t know what city she was in.”
“Get her some water,” the girl said, and turned back to the guy she was dancing with.
