Slave to the Rhythm (The Rhythm #1)

  My hands started to shake and I swallowed several times, trying not to throw up.

  “It’s going to be alright,” Laney said, as she pulled into the parking lot.

  I stared at her, wanting to believe it badly.

  “Ash,” she said softly, stroking my cheek. “It’s going to be alright.”

  I blinked, then took a trembling breath and leaned into her hand.

  We stayed there, touching, eyes closed. And when we walked into the building, she gently took hold of my other hand.

  Laney’s father came as soon as the desk sergeant informed him that we’d arrived.

  “Hey, pumpkin!”

  When he noticed that we were holding hands, he frowned, and his voice immediately became all business.

  “We’re ready for you now. Laney, you’re in with Mark and Luis; Mr. Novak, you’ll be with Detectives Petronelli and Ramos. And this is Angela Pinto—she’s your legal counsel.”

  A tall, curvy blonde woman smiled at Laney and they hugged quickly.

  “Angie! Thank you so much for doing this.”

  “No problem, Laney. I’m happy to.”

  “This is my friend, Ash.”

  Angela glanced at Laney quizzically, then introduced herself to me as we shook hands. I muttered something unintelligible, and was led away. It felt like I was going to my execution. Laney gave me an encouraging smile.

  I couldn’t return it.

  “Do you need an interpreter, Mr. Novak?”

  “Ash?” Laney asked when I didn’t answer.

  “What? Uh, no. Thank you.”

  “Well, if you’re sure . . .”

  I nodded curtly. I couldn’t imagine delaying this any longer, even though I wanted to puke. Or run.

  The interview room was brightly lit and quite large, but there were no windows, and I felt an unexpected wave of panic start to choke me. My brain imagined that I was trapped in here with Oleg, and I gasped for air, feeling like I was drowning. I closed my eyes and fought to control my breathing.

  I couldn’t seem to stop my body reacting to a threat that probably wasn’t even there. But bad things happened in police stations, didn’t they? My body started to shake.

  “Could we get Mr. Novak some water, please?”

  I heard Angela’s voice but it was several minutes before I got a grip, and then one of the police officers returned with a paper cup of water. I stared at it, wondering if I’d be able to pick it up without dropping it. I managed to take a sip before water slopped over the sides of the cup.

  “We can do this another time,” Angela said, earning an annoyed look from one of the detectives.

  “No,” I said hoarsely. “No, I need to get this done.”

  “Interview with Aljaž Novak. Detectives Derek Petronelli and Oscar Ramos and Mr. Novak’s attorney Angela Pinto are present. So, Mr. Novak, for the record, could you give us your full name, date of birth and address.”

  “Aljaž Novak. March 15th 1992.”

  “And what is your address—for the record?”

  “I was staying with my friend Luka Kokot back home. You want that address?”

  Not that it would do them any good as he was on tour.

  “Could you tell us where you met Miss Hennessey?”

  “In Las Vegas. She was in a club at the hotel with her friends. We talked for two or three minutes.”

  “And?”

  “She went back to her room,” and I went to look for a quick fuck. “I didn’t see her again until . . . when everything happened.”

  There was a short silence, and I looked up to see them exchanging glances heavy with meaning.

  “Could you describe the circumstances leading up to your arrival in Las Vegas?”

  I took a deep, calming breath.

  “I was looking for a new partner on a website I use, and . . .”

  “A sexual partner?” Detective Ramos interrupted quickly.

  What? I looked up, confused. Then realized what he was suggesting.

  “No, no, a dance partner. I’m a ballroom dancer. I split up with my last partner and I’d been looking for someone of competition standard—it’s not so easy to be compatible. But then I clicked a link for dance opportunities, and it took me to a website about working in Las Vegas.”

  “And were you employed as a dancer in Slovenia at the time?”

  “No, it’s hard to make a living that way.”

  “So what did you do?”

  I sighed and stared up at the ceiling. “I worked in construction.” And hated every fucking minute of it.

  “Okay, so what happened next?”

  “I emailed them my résumé and they replied the next day. They said I was just what they were looking for and that they’d arrange a work visa. I just had to buy my airplane ticket. It all happened really quickly.”

  “Did that surprise you?”

  I shrugged. “Not really. I’d gotten their name from the Dansesport site, so I thought it was okay.”

  “Go on.”

  “When I arrived, that’s when I thought there was a problem.”

  “Why was that?”

  “This guy, Oleg, picked me up at the airport and there was a minivan waiting. There were four girls there—they looked like dancers.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Slim, good muscle tone and posture, hot, you know?”

  Derek Petronelli was a huge guy who looked like he’d never met a donut he didn’t like. But if the look on his face was anything to go by, he’d really like to know a bunch of hot women who were dancers.

  “And what happened then?”

  I rubbed my eyes. It seemed impossible now. I was so fucking naïve, but I’d been full of hope that evening.

  “There was Yveta and her friend Galina—they were Russian. Marta was from the Ukraine—that’s what Yveta said. I never knew the other girl’s name. We didn’t think she spoke English . . . or Russian. She was young. I don’t know, maybe 16? Oleg took our passports. I wasn’t happy, but I didn’t want to make trouble the first night with my new boss.

  “When we got to the hotel, they told us to tell our families that we were fine, then they took our phones. I had a bad feeling, but I didn’t know what to do. Then the next day I met Sergei.”

  “What’s his last name?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. He was just Sergei. The only last name was the big boss, Volkov.”

  Petronelli looked at his partner, then back at me. “Would you be able to identify these people if we showed you some photographs?”

  I grit my teeth and nodded. “I’ll never forget their faces.”

  “Okay, we’ll get to that. What happened after your phone was taken?”

  I continued the story, describing the Korean and my belief that he was beaten to death.

  “But you don’t know for sure?”

  The policemen shared another look and I started to sweat. They didn’t believe me—I had no evidence. And I was getting to the part where I had to tell them about the girl . . . and what had been done to me. When I described the end of the shopping trip, my pulse started to race.

  “Sergei got in the limo and he said, ‘Daddy wants to play’. I knew what he meant. I told him to . . .”

  I glanced at Angela and she nodded at me to continue, her expression serious.

  “I told him to fuck off. He just laughed and said that was the general idea. Then Oleg punched me from behind and I fell into the car. That’s when Sergei pulled a gun. He held it to the back of my head. I could feel the metal pressing into my neck. I remember thinking, ‘If he kills me now, the stupid bastard will shoot off his own dick’.”

  I took a sip of water, trying to ignore my shaking hands.

  “He kept telling me to blow him, but I wouldn’t. I’m not gay!” I stared up at the detectives, but their faces gave nothing away. “I’m not,” I said again, banging my fist down on the table.

  “It’s okay. Take a moment,” Angela said calmly.

  I gri
pped the edge of the table and forced myself to go on. If I stopped now, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to say it again.

  “He forced my hand against the door and slammed the gun into it. He broke this finger. I still wouldn’t do it, so he broke another finger the same way. I was afraid I’d pass out, but I didn’t. I was so angry, almost more angry than scared. He asked me how many bones there were in my foot, because he’d break them all. I said, ‘I’ll bite off your fucking dick and spit it at you’.”

  The humiliation was fresh all over again, and I couldn’t look at anyone in the room.

  “Then he pressed a button, and the panel between the front seat and back seat slid down. Oleg . . . he had the girl . . . the young one. She was crying and she’d been beaten. Oleg started to squeeze her neck. I’ve never seen anyone’s eyes bulge before. They went red—all the white parts went red—and I thought, Oh my God, all the veins in her eyes are breaking! She was looking at me the whole time. She just kept looking at me. Her lips were blue and she was scratching at Oleg’s hands, but he just laughed. And Sergei . . . he was laughing, too. He said, ‘She won’t last much longer’. And . . . and . . . I didn’t want her to die. Then she wasn’t moving anymore. And I knew he wanted to kill her. He was enjoying it. They both were! Those sick bastards . . .”

  I covered my face with my hands.

  “So I did it. I did what he said. Oleg kept laughing and Sergei . . .”

  I heaved, but managed not puke, swallowing back the vomit that threatened to humiliate me again.

  “It made me sick. When he . . . finished, I threw up all over him. He was so angry, screaming at me. He slammed the gun against my head, here, and I thought he’d shoot me, but he opened the car door and pushed me out. He held the gun and pointed it at me. I thought he’d kill me. I didn’t even care anymore.” I glanced up, but it wasn’t the police station I was seeing. “The girl . . . I think he killed her in front of me and I did nothing!”

  I shouted out the last word and Angela rested her hand on my arm lightly. Her sudden touch made me lash out, overturning the chair as I leapt backwards.

  There was an appalled silence while Angela stared at me fearfully.

  “I think we should take a break now,” said Petronelli.

  Angela nodded and closed her notebook.

  “Interview suspended at 15:24.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  But I wasn’t sure who I was saying it to.

  Three hours later, I sat alone in the interview room. I was wrung out, utterly devoid of any feeling other than the dull ache of shame, too exhausted to care any longer.

  The questions had gone on and on: who had I seen, what had been said, who was the biker, had I seen drugs, had I been given drugs, what had Volkov said, where was Marta when I saw her, what had she said, where was the brothel where she was being kept, where was I going to get the money to pay Sergei, how many times had I sold myself to women, why hadn’t I gone to the police when I had the chance? And then reliving the horror of the night they’d caught me and the evil bastard Oleg had flogged me with his own belt while Sergei jerked off.

  Then the policemen had photographed my back and ass, commenting quietly to themselves on the marks.

  Somehow it was worse that all of this was in front of Laney’s friend. It was a mistake having her there. She’d been professional, kind even, but now she knew things about me. She knew and she judged me, whether she meant to or not.

  But I guess Laney would find out one way or another. If not from Angela, then from her father.

  Angela walked back into the room, pushing a cup of black coffee in front of me as she sat opposite. I couldn’t drink it without cream and sugar, but I enjoyed holding the warm cup.

  “How are you doing?”

  I almost laughed and Angela gave me a rueful smile.

  “That’s understandable, but you did well. They’ve got a lot of information to work with and pass on to the Las Vegas police.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “I know what you were told, but there are good officers there who will investigate. This won’t be swept under the carpet.”

  I was silent. I’d wanted justice for the girl, for Marta and the others. But the justice Sergei and Oleg deserved was at the end of a gun or a rope, not through Courtrooms and police and polite pieces of paper.

  “Your Embassy has been contacted and they’re going to expedite a new passport, but it could take a while, bearing in mind that the current one has been used illegally. They’re prepared to issue temporary ID so you can access your bank account in Slovenia and have your credit cards re-issued. But don’t be surprised if it takes a couple of weeks. I’ll do my best to hurry them along . . . unfortunately this means that they won’t be able to arrange a flight home for you just yet, and with the ongoing police investigation, well, they’d like you to be around for the time being. However, your Embassy has authorized me to issue you $200 hardship money and arrange a hotel for you.” She smiled at me. “But Laney says you’re welcome to stay with her.”

  I looked up, stunned.

  “She’ll let me stay?”

  “Yes.”

  I met Angela’s eyes, reading the unspoken message.

  Then I shook my head. “Her father won’t let that happen.”

  Angela laughed lightly. “If you think her father could stop Laney when she’s made up her mind, you don’t know her very well.”

  “What about the pri—what about her boyfriend?”

  “Same answer,” Angela smiled at me, not missing my near slip, as she pulled out some dollar bills and handed them to me. “She’s outside now.”

  I stood up slowly. Laney was waiting for me. Until that moment, I’d had no clue how much I needed to hear those words—just knowing that someone was here for me, that I wasn’t alone.

  I pulled the door open and she saw me immediately, throwing herself into my arms.

  The surprise attack made me stagger, my back thudding painfully against the wall as Laney hugged the ever-living crap out of me.

  As the surprise seeped out of me, I allowed myself to enjoy the warmth and softness of her small body pressed against mine. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her carefully as my head sank forwards, burying my face in her hair as if I’d been doing it my whole life.

  Laney’s face was pink when she pulled away. I thought she’d start asking questions, but she didn’t. Thank God, she didn’t.

  “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  I nodded my agreement as Laney tugged on my arm.

  “I know the perfect place to celebrate.”

  I frowned at her.

  “What are we celebrating?”

  Laney threw her hands in the air.

  “Life. We’re celebrating life.”

  Laney

  ANGELA JOINED US for drinks at a bar I knew, half a block from the police station.

  Ash insisted on paying since he had money, although neither of us wanted him to, but arguing about it would only have made things more awkward.

  It was a muted celebration with a silent Ash, speaking only when I asked him a direct question.

  I knew it must have been traumatic reliving everything that happened to him, but I’d meant it when I said we should be celebrating life. And he had so much to live for.

  It didn’t help that Angela seemed on edge, too, throwing worried glances at Ash while he was engrossed by his beer, staring unseeingly as he shred the label.

  “Well,” said Angela, “I really need to get going. Laney, walk me out, hon?”

  Ash stood politely as we left the table, nodding once at Angela and muttering a curt ‘thank you’. He couldn’t meet her eyes, and I wondered if they’d had some sort of fight.

  “Laney,” said Angela when we were outside in the chilly air, “I love you like a sister so I’m going to be totally unprofessional and tell you that guy worries me.”

  “Ash? Why?”

  “Look, you know I can’t tell
you, I’m just saying . . . stay away from him. I mean it. The packaging is gorgeous, I admit, but he’s damaged. You get any more involved with a guy like that, and he’ll drag you down with him. I’ve seen it happen. I know you have this thing about ‘saving’ people, but you have to let this one go.”

  “What do you mean, I have a thing about ‘saving’ people?” I bristled.

  “Come on, Laney! You know you do. You’ve been trying to save Collin from being a boring asshole for ten years, and look how well that’s gone.”

  “You don’t understand!” I said, frustration sharpening my voice.

  “Then explain it to me. Make me understand! Because what you’re doing is way beyond what anyone else would do.”

  I wanted to be angry, but I saw only concern in Angie’s face.

  “I . . . it’s hard to explain. But if you’d been there . . . when you walk into that kind of scene, it’s just something you can’t help. He was so broken—there was no other choice.”

  I could tell that I hadn’t convinced her. Maybe because she was a lawyer and dealt in facts and what could be proved. Or maybe because we’d been friends for ten years and she’d never seen me like this before.

  She sighed then swept me into a hug.

  “Just think about it, okay?”

  And she vanished into the night before I could reply.

  I was irritated on so many levels. Her assumption that there was something going on with Ash was way off. And Collin had apologized for his behavior before I went to Vegas.

  I think that knowing how close I’d come to getting hurt or even killed had been a wake-up call for both of us. We weren’t going to throw away ten years on a single argument.

  He wasn’t happy that Ash would be sleeping on my couch for the foreseeable future, but that wasn’t negotiable. I wasn’t trying to save Ash, whatever Angela thought. He was a man who’d been through something traumatic, but I’d already seen flashes of the sweet, funny, sexy guy he’d been before.

  In a couple of weeks, he’d get his passport and he could go home. I wasn’t going to make him stay in some anonymous hotel where he didn’t know anyone.