Lead Me Not

chapter two

aubrey

normally organizing, categorizing, and putting things in their place was all I needed to go to my warm, happy place. Forget mood stabilizers. If I was depressed, just give me a dustrag and sixty minutes to declutter. Sure, my room looked like something out of OCD-R-Us, but it was that small semblance of control that helped me get through the day.

Renee, back when we could talk about more than whether it was T-shirt or sweater weather, would tease me about having my shoes lined up in perfect rows. She used to fuck with my almost obsessive need to have my desk laid out in completely symmetrical piles. My pens and highlighters, an exact number of each, were sitting just so in my green Longwood University mug. My laptop was placed at an exact midpoint between my Texas Instruments graphic calculator and my leather-bound daily planner.

Okay, so maybe I took the whole neat and tidy thing a bit too far. But I liked knowing where things were. I liked knowing what to expect when I walked into my room. Surprises sucked. Being blindsided, whether in a good or a bad way, put me on edge, and it didn’t take a PhD to figure out why.

Too much of my past had been dictated by things beyond my control. One tiny twist of fate, and I had been catapulted into a scary oblivion that I was still trying to claw my way out of.

But if there was one thing Aubrey Duncan did well, it was surviving. Whatever it cost me, I put one foot in front of the other and kept on walking. There wasn’t any other option for me.

“You really need to get in the habit of locking your front door. What if I was a robber here to swipe all of your 90210 DVDs,” a voice called, startling me out of my mission to get the dust bunnies out from underneath my bed.

I slithered out from under the mattress on my stomach and peered up at the good-looking guy with the dark brown hair who was dominating the doorway.

“I keep those under lock and key, Brooks, you know better than that,” I answered, blowing my hair out of my face and wiping a grubby hand across my forehead. I was pretty sure I looked like something pulled out of a ditch. Fortunately for me, Brooks Hamlin wasn’t someone I felt the need to impress.

“Shit, you’re cleaning your room again? Aubrey, this is bordering on clinical, you know.” Brooks shook his head, his green eyes sparkling in amusement.

I smirked as I got to my feet. “Is that your professional diagnosis?” I asked, wiping my hands down the front of his perfectly pressed shirt. Brooks made a face and playfully pushed me away.

Brooks and I were both in the counseling program, though Brooks was a year older and set to graduate in just a few months. Back at the beginning of our acquaintance, I had made the mistake of sleeping with him. More than once.

Brooks was cute and smart and everything I should have looked for in a guy. He checked each and every box. We started dating a couple years ago after we’d shared an Abnormal Psychology class. I was the wide-eyed, freaked-out freshman; he had been the more confident and suave sophomore. But mostly, our relationship was the result of my pathetic need to connect. And I had been convinced that opening my legs was the perfect solution for my emotional isolation. I had been lonely.

A date here and there had eventually progressed to frequent fucking. But then feelings got involved. More specifically, Brooks’s feelings, and the whole thing had gotten entirely too messy. I liked Brooks, truly I did, but my heart hadn’t been in it the way his had been. The truth of it was that it wasn’t just Brooks. Because my heart was never in it . . . with anybody. It was as though the organ was permanently disengaged from the rest of my body.

So I had ended it as gently as I was able to. Brooks had taken it well; kudos to the healthy male ego. And we had, surprisingly, become close friends in the aftermath. I still caught him looking at my boobs more often than I would have liked, but I chose to ignore it.

Brooks handed me a slim paper bag. I peered inside and grinned. “Why, Brooks, are you planning to get me drunk?” I teased, heading out into the hallway, closing my bedroom door behind me.

Brooks chuckled. “Nah, just figured you’d want to break up your wild and crazy evening of alphabetizing the soup cans in the pantry.”

I pulled two glasses out of the cabinet and unscrewed the bottle of vodka. Brooks found a carton of orange juice in the refrigerator and set it on the counter. I mixed our drinks while he found a bag of potato chips and dumped them into a bowl.

“I hadn’t gotten that far yet,” I admitted, following my friend out into the tiny living room. The space was cramped, yet homey. It held a worn-to-the-point-of-ugliness love seat and armchair and a circular coffee table. There was just enough room to walk between the furniture on your way into the kitchen without smacking your knees.

Sure, the couch smelled like feet and the table had mismatched legs, but I held each and every piece in an affectionate regard. Renee had called our interior design “Goodwill chic.” I liked it because it was mine. Just mine.

“Is Renee out?” Brooks asked, making himself comfortable in the armchair before reaching for his drink. I curled my legs beneath me on the couch and sipped at my cocktail.

“Well, she’s not hiding in the closet,” I joked, making a face as the alcohol hit my tongue. Way too much vodka, not enough orange juice. Shit, if I wasn’t careful I’d be falling on the floor after three sips.

“Is she with Captain Douche?” Brooks asked, making me snort.

“Where else would she be?” I responded, knowing I sounded annoyed.

“What’s with that guy? He seems like the sort to tear the wings off butterflies for fun. What does she see in him?” Brooks asked around a mouthful of sour-cream-and-onion chips.

That, really, was the question of the hour, though if I thought back far enough, I could sort of understand how it had happened. When Renee had first started dating Devon, even I had been taken in by his boy-next-door good looks and good ol’ southern appeal, though I thought he had laid it on a little thick. His Texas drawl was like melted butter in his mouth. He had the “aww shucks” charm down to a science. It had seemed kind of sexy at the time, and his unruly red hair and brown eyes could be construed as attractive.

As the saying goes, looks can be deceiving. And I had most certainly been deceived.

“Maybe it’s love,” I said, with a hefty dose of sarcasm. I took another drink of my screwdriver and made a face. “Gah, this is gross,” I said and put it down on the coffee table.

Brooks shook his head and dumped the contents of my glass into his. “Love, my ass, more like he’s got her cock-whipped,” he remarked, making me cringe.

“Dude, I don’t need to think about Devon or his cock. Yuck.” I shuddered.

Brooks picked up the remote and started flipping through the channels until he found a NASCAR race. “You come to my apartment with shitty alcohol, and now you’re expecting me to sit through hours of cars driving in circles? I don’t think so,” I announced, lunging for the remote.

Brooks tossed it in my direction. “Fine, but I’m vetoing the rerun of Deuce Bigalow that I know is playing right now,” he warned, and I pouted good-naturedly.

“You have no appreciation for Rob Schneider,” I protested.

“I just find it extremely disturbing that you can recite all of the dialogue,” Brooks countered.

Grumbling under my breath, I finally settled on a cooking show featuring an overly angry Brit. Brooks decided that we weren’t allowed to speak unless it was with horrible English accents, which led me to show him my really bad imitation of Judi Dench.

I was just starting to enjoy my evening when my phone rang. I grabbed it and looked at the number, not recognizing it.

“Hello?” I said after answering. The noise on the other end was deafening.

“Hello?” I said again.

“Aubrey!” someone yelled into the phone. I looked over at Brooks, who was watching me questioningly.

“Yeah, who is this? I can’t hear you.”

“It’s Renee. I need you to come and get me.” Renee’s voice wobbled, and I could barely hear her over the commotion.

“Where are you? What’s going on?” I demanded.

“I need you to come and get me now! Please!” she begged, and I could tell she was wigging out.

“Where’s Devon?” I asked, trying to make sense of what was going on.

“Just please, Aubrey. Devon fucking left me here, and I don’t know anyone.” Renee’s voice rose into near hysterics.

“Okay, okay. Tell me where you are,” I commanded her with my patented Aubrey Duncan composed calm.

“I’m at Compulsion. You know, the club?” she yelled, and I wanted to groan in exasperation.

“Yeah, I know what Compulsion is,” I replied, not adding that my knowledge was only a few hours old.

“It’s in a warehouse down near the river. I don’t know the exact address, and it was dark when we got here. Just please come and get me,” Renee pleaded, and I knew she was crying.

“Okay, I’m on my way. Can I call you on this number if I need to? Where’s your phone?” I asked, already on my feet and grabbing my keys.

“No, some guy gave me this phone to use. I don’t know him or anything. I’ll wait for you inside. Just hurry.” And then the line went dead.

“Fucking Renee,” I growled in frustration. Brooks followed me to the door.

“I’m coming with you,” he said, grabbing hold of my arm.

I shook him off. “No, you stay here,” I started, but Brooks cut me off.

“No way, Aubrey. Compulsion is hard-core. You wouldn’t survive ten minutes! I might as well stick a sign on your ass with the words fresh meat. Hell if I’m letting you go by yourself. Why is Renee there?” he asked.

I shrugged my shoulders angrily. “I doubt it was her idea. This has Devon I’m-a-cocksucker Keeton written all over it. God, he left her there, Brooks! What a jackass!” I seethed. It was a lot easier to feel angry than to admit how freaked out I was, how one phone call could trigger a memory I had buried under a mountain of repression.

My mind threatened to relive that night. The frantic late-night call. The gut-wrenching fear. The moment when my entire life changed.

Only I had learned my lesson, and this time I wouldn’t ignore the person who needed me.

It wasn’t until Brooks and I were headed down the road that he made an obvious observation. “Do we even know where this place is?” he asked, and I could have laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.

And finally I did laugh, almost maniacally. Just because it was all so damned absurd. Here I was, rushing off to play save Renee from her shitty choices, and I didn’t even know where the heck I was going.

“Not really,” I admitted once I had settled down.

“Okay,” Brooks let out slowly, giving me his you-are-a-crazy-person look. I sure hoped his future patients were never on the receiving end of that particular expression. It could make anyone question their mental health.

“She said she was by the river at a warehouse. Considering I didn’t know a thing about Compulsion until a few hours ago, I’m completely useless right now,” I said, not bothering to hide my irritation.

“Huh, sounds like it’s down on Third Street,” Brooks offered, earning him a surprised look from me.

“Didn’t know you were so familiar with the stab-’em-and-leave-’em side of town. Makes me wonder what you get up to in your spare time,” I remarked dryly.

Brooks rolled his eyes. “I’m not allergic to social situations like you are, Aubrey,” was his only explanation. Huh. It made me wonder how much there was to my good buddy Brooks that I wasn’t aware of.

The farther we drove into the city, the more obvious it became that we weren’t in Kansas anymore. This was a rough side of town. The stay-inside-or-you’re-going-to-get-shanked part of the city. Longwood University was only ten blocks away, but it might as well be on another planet.

The streets were lined with run-down houses. Cars were up on cinder blocks, and there were more than a few burned-out streetlights. Teenagers hung out on the street corners, and the shadows seemed to hold all sorts of unsavory things that I didn’t want to examine too closely. I was experiencing a full-on case of the “icks.”

I pulled into a parking lot and turned off the car. Brooks opened the door and got out, but I sat there, staring out the window, not sure I wanted to leave the nice, warm safety of my car. Shit, we were going to get shot. I just knew it! Why hadn’t I thought to bring the bottle of pepper spray that sat, unused, on my dresser? Idiot!

When I got my hands on Renee I was pretty sure I’d wrap them around her scrawny neck and squeeze. Really, really hard.

Brooks leaned down and braced himself in the open doorway. “You coming or not?” he asked, looking amused. I gave him the middle finger, but finally, ever so slowly, I joined him. I pulled my knitted, woolen cap down over my hair and shoved my hands into my pockets to ward off the cold.

“Someone is going to steal my car, I just know it. I’m seriously gonna kill Renee and her ass of a boyfriend,” I said in a harsh whisper, stealing a look at the abandoned warehouses and dilapidated buildings around us. A group of thugged-out guys walked down the sidewalk, and I seriously contemplated jumping back in my car and heading home, leaving Renee and her bad decision making on her own.

But damned if my loyalty and annoying sense of friendship didn’t get in the way of my survival instincts.

“So, any clue as to where this place is?” I asked Brooks, hunching my shoulders as I shivered.

Brooks shrugged and pointed down the street toward the river. “I’d say we head that way. Renee said it was by the river, right?” he asked, and I could only nod. No need to point out the obvious fact that wandering aimlessly around Murderville didn’t seem like the smartest plan of action.

We walked quickly, heading toward the water. I wrinkled my nose at the stench of fish and sewage. Trash and unimaginably gross stuff littered the ground, and I tried to suppress the vomit rising in the back of my throat.

“Hear that?” Brooks asked, breaking the eerie silence.

“Hear what?” I muttered around the clattering of my teeth. Jeesh, I was freezing.

Brooks cupped his hand around his ear and then grabbed my hand, pulling me down the street. “I can hear music. It’s this way,” he said, clearly more excited by this twisted game of hide-and-seek than I was.

“There it is,” Brooks called out, yanking on my arm. Bass so loud it shook my insides served as our guide. Following the music, we crossed the street to join a line that curled around the side of an old warehouse. Compulsion was obviously the place to be on a weekend.

“You know, this club is a total legend. It’s been around since the nineties and changes locations every week. I’ve talked to a few people who have been here, but never had the balls to come myself. But I’ve always wanted to,” Brooks said low enough not to be overheard by the people around us.

Everything I knew about the underground club scene came from watching the news and the occasional crappy reality TV show. And it had all seemed so sensationalized, from drug deals, to users ODing in the bathrooms, to people getting beaten up outside. As out-there as the stories sounded, I knew this stuff really happened. I wasn’t stupid or ignorant, by any means. I was more than aware of life’s dark and scary underbelly. But I was not the type of person to search for it. I didn’t get some sick sort of adrenaline jolt from living life on the edge.

Give me a cup of chai tea and some new episodes of The Vampire Diaries and I was a happy gal.

But as we waited, I strangely found myself understanding the appeal of it. It was hard to deny the intoxicating feel of anticipation in the air as Brooks and I waited in line to be admitted inside. Everyone was hopped up on some bizarre energy as though we were waiting to be led into paradise. Or purgatory.

I scoped out the people ahead of us in the line: a group of girls who couldn’t be any older than sixteen. Even I knew you had to be eighteen to get in, but this group looked way too young to be here. They were giggling and bouncing on their feet. One girl helped her friend apply a thick coat of black lipstick while the other girls adjusted their gothed-out clothes.

Something about them reminded me of Jayme. My little sister had always been the first to jump headfirst into a situation she shouldn’t be in. These girls weren’t much older than Jayme had been.

Shaking my head, I snapped myself out of that particular train of thought and looked over at Brooks standing beside me. He seemed to be feeding on the high of the crowd. I squeezed his arm. “You know we’re just here to grab Renee and get out, right? I’m not trying to hang out or anything,” I told him, making sure we were on the same page.

Brooks nodded. “Yeah, no, that’s cool. It’s just I’ve always wanted to check this place out. It’s kind of awesome, right?” he enthused, grinning.

Uh, awesome wasn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe it . . . at all.

I didn’t bother to respond and instead waited impatiently as we slowly made our way to the front door. When we were finally standing at the entrance, I knew instantly that our chances of being let inside were slim to none. I had noticed people getting turned away and others being allowed admittance. I had been trying to figure out how the scary biker-looking guys at the door were determining who would be granted access and who would be denied. But once we were in front of the doormen and given a disdainful once-over I figured it out pretty quickly.

Brooks and I stood out like virgins at an orgy. It didn’t take a genius to see that the two of us were so far out of our comfort zone that we’d have to hitchhike back.

“Get out of here,” the bouncer said, with barely a look in our direction. He had a close-shaved head covered in some sort of elaborate tattoo as well as inch-round gauges in his ears. He also sported a rather fierce-looking spike pierced through the bridge of his nose. His goatee was styled into a point and dyed a bright red. Another spike poked out from below his lip. This dude was seriously edgy, and my jeans, cotton long-sleeved grungy jacket ensemble, and Brooks’s blazer and plaid button-down made it more than obvious that we most definitely didn’t belong.

“Wait a second, please. We’re just here to pick up our friend. She’s inside,” I said, stupidly trying to push past him in my agitation. Damn it! What was I going to do?

Scary biker dude pushed me back and scowled. “I said”—he leaned down until he was an inch from my face—“get the fuck out of here.” He literally growled when he said it, and it took everything I had not to be cowed under the weight of his glare.

“Come on, man, we’ll pay the cover. Double, if you want. We’re only gonna be a minute. We just need to find our friend. She called us and she needs a ride,” Brooks tried to reason with the guy.

But the bouncer clearly couldn’t give a shit whether we were there to get the Queen of England. We weren’t getting inside.

The people behind us were becoming antsy and more than a little tired of the holdup. “You heard him, get the hell out of here,” a scrawny man said. He was decked out in black leather, looking like an escapee from an S&M club gone bad.

My lips thinned, and my temper started to rise. I was gearing myself up to do battle, if necessary, because there was no way I was leaving without Renee.

Brooks must have recognized the ferocity in my eyes, because he put a hand on my shoulder, squeezing hard, trying to get my attention. I shook him off and leveled scary bouncer dude with my hardest stare.

“Look, buddy, I’m walking inside this door, and you’re not going to stop me,” I bristled, sounding way more confident than I was actually feeling. In actuality, I was shaking in my Converse sneakers. Bouncer guy didn’t seem to mind if I was a girl or not; he was going to physically remove me.

“Let her in, Randy,” a voice said from the shadows just inside the door. Randy’s face turned a flustered shade of red as he looked over his shoulder at the speaker.

I squinted into the darkness, trying to see who my savior was. All I could make out was the dim outline of a man.

I gripped Brooks’s hand and waited to see whether this anonymous man had enough sway to get us in. After a few seconds, the doorman, Randy, turned back to me and took my money. He stamped my hand and waved me inside without another word.

I turned around to wait for Brooks. The bouncer put his beefy arm across Brooks’s chest. “Uh-uh. She can come in. You wait out here,” he said firmly.

“She’s not going in there by herself,” Brooks argued, pushing against the bouncer’s arm, but it might as well have been made of stone. Randy, bouncer made of steel, didn’t move an inch.

“If you don’t get the fuck out of the line, I’m gonna make you move. You hear me?” Randy asked, his voice dipping low, his words dripping with a barely restrained violence.

“I’ll be okay, Brooks. Just wait out here for me, all right?” I urged, hoping he wouldn’t push the issue. I sort of liked the look of Brooks’s teeth in his mouth.

Brooks frowned. He wasn’t happy. In fact, he was as upset as I had ever seen him. I looked over my shoulder at the dark entrance to the club. The pulsating bass of the music hummed in my head.

I didn’t particularly like the thought of going in there by myself, but it wasn’t worth Brooks losing a limb to come with me.

“I’ll be fine. Renee said she’d be waiting inside,” I reasoned.

Brooks started to shake his head when Randy the bouncer, who had clearly had enough, shoved him roughly to the side. Obviously, the decision had been made for me.

“I’ll be over there. I’m giving you fifteen minutes, Aubrey, and then I’m coming in after you,” Brooks threatened, shooting me a less-than-pleased look.

I pulled the sleeves of my jacket down over my hands nervously and slowly made my way inside. I looked around for the guy who had gotten me inside, but my eyes were barely able to focus in the horrible lighting.

Whoever it was who had saved me from being booted on my ass was nowhere in sight.

I pulled off my hat and shoved it in my pocket, hesitant to move forward. And then, as though I was being pulled forward by an invisible cord, my feet started to move, one in front of the other, until I was standing in the middle of hell.

At least that seemed to be the theme they were going for. Red lights shone through the room, casting everything in an eerie shadow. Barbed wire covered the windows and gave me the feeling of being trapped.

But it was the energy that took hold and threatened to swallow me whole. The music pumped from gigantic speakers suspended from the ceiling, and the floor was a mass of writhing bodies swept away by the beat. The mood in the room was more than just frenetic; it was something I couldn’t describe.

It was hot, and the air smelled of something sweet I couldn’t place. My heart started to thud in my chest, and my hands started to twitch. I had never seen such total abandon before. The music seemed to hold everyone and everything in its snare; the dancers were helpless against it.

As much as I tried to resist it, I was entranced by the scene in front of me. Compulsion terrified me. It was overwhelming and borderline psychotic. But it also transfixed me in a way that had me questioning my own sanity.

Because suddenly I wanted it.

I craved it.

I ached to lose myself in the oblivion.

That is what this place promised. Sweet and total anarchy. And how easy it would be to hand over my careful control to the frightening and intoxicating world laid out before me.

The thump, thump, thump of the music rattled around in my chest. I could feel the vibration from the speakers buzzing in my ears. The darkness was both smothering and strangely comforting.

I closed my eyes and started to sway on my feet.

And then the moment was over. I was jostled from behind as people pushed past me, pulling me out of my momentary loss of reality.

What was wrong with me? I was here to get Renee, not play irresponsible club kid for the night.

The large, open room was full of people, and it was proving impossible to get through the crowd. I looked around, straining on my tiptoes, trying to find Renee. I elbowed and shoved my way to the outer wall.

I stumbled over something. My hands came out as I fell face-first onto the ground. My knees collided painfully with the concrete floor. And I lay there, sort of dumbfounded by everyone’s total disregard for the pathetic girl sprawled out at their feet.

No one offered to help me up. They simply walked around or, in some cases, over me. I tried to get to my feet, but my ankle twisted in protest. I came back down on my knees and suddenly felt like I could cry.

Someone spilled beer down my back at the same time I was knocked sideways. Shit, I was going to be trampled to death. I felt hysteria bubble up in my stomach and overshadow the anger I had felt toward my wayward roommate.

Suddenly a pair of hands gripped me underneath my arms and hoisted me up. I groaned at the pain in my ankle as I steadied myself. A hand pressed into my back, right between my shoulder blades, and pushed me forward.

“Are you okay?” a soft male voice whispered in my ear. I tried to turn to see who was navigating me through the throng, but it was so dark I couldn’t make him out.

I nodded, even though it was a lie. I was so not okay.

I could feel the heat of the guy’s hand through my shirt, imprinting my skin. He was pressed close to me as we moved forward, his front brushing against my back. It was uncomfortably intimate, and if I could have, I would have run far, far away.

“Take a deep breath. You’ll be fine,” the voice soothed, somehow saying the words I needed to hear.

I found myself complying automatically. The voice floating in my ears through the dark held some sort of strange sway that was hard to resist.

The hand at my back began to move in comforting circles, and I found myself start to relax in spite of my trepidation. It was like the dude pumped Valium through his fingertips. He was Club Man, able to calm freaked-out girls with the power of his voice and hands alone! I tried to twist and squint at him again, but I still couldn’t make out more than a silhouette.

“I see thee better—in the dark—I do not need a light,” the man murmured, his breath stirring the hair at my temple.

Mystery dude was quoting Emily Dickinson? What in the hell? Had I unknowingly dropped down the rabbit hole and not realized it?

And just like that, my calm popped like a soap bubble, and the reality of where I was set in like a hundred-ton weight on my chest.

I was in an underground nightclub trying to find my friend. That was what I needed to focus on.

I didn’t know this guy and shouldn’t be dropping my guard in a place like this—what the hell was wrong with me?

I tried to push ahead—anything to get some distance from the potential serial killer behind me. But the wall of people made it difficult to move very fast. The hand at my back slipped up to the nape of my neck, fingers curling up into my hair.

My heart was hammering in my chest, and I was scared. I could almost read the headlines now: Girl killed while trying to locate her selfish jerk of a roommate.

But then the hand disappeared from my skin, and I was steered toward the bar. I could barely breathe. I was on the cusp of a full-blown panic attack.

“Your friend is over there,” came the soft whisper again.

Huh?

I craned my neck and almost passed out with relief at the sight of Renee, perched on a stool, looking shaky and uncomfortable, her eyes darting around nervously.

“Thank you,” I said loudly, finally finding enough light to take in the person who’d helped me. He was tall, with broad shoulders; a baseball cap was perched low over his brow, obscuring his face. In the red-tinged light of the club, I couldn’t make out a single detail, nothing to identify him. And that was more unsettling than anything else had been up until now.

The inexplicable control this man exerted made itself known again. I was like a fish on a hook, flopping around in vain, hoping to be set free, but at the same time stupidly enjoying the trap.

I wanted to see him. I needed to.

The guy leaned in, his lips brushing against my cheek as he spoke. I caught the faint smell of peppermint and smoke.

“You and your friend need to get out of here. This isn’t a place for you to be.” He brushed my ponytail off my shoulder.

“What?” I asked dumbly. I was having a hard time wrapping my head around the strange turn my night had taken. Why was he helping me? Did I have easy mark stamped on my forehead? Or was he a rare breed of Good Samaritan?

I patted the front of my jeans just to make sure I hadn’t been pickpocketed. Phone and cash seemed to still be there. That was a relief, I guess. But when I looked up, he was gone.

He had disappeared like he had never been there, a figment of my overactive and overly stressed mind.

I stood rooted to the spot, my ankle throbbing, my head dizzy, my ears ringing. I was shaken.

That man had shaken me. And I wasn’t sure if it was fear or excitement that thrummed through my veins.

He was right. I needed to get out of there. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and saw that ten minutes had already passed. If I didn’t get Renee outside soon, Brooks was going to go all suicide mission on the bouncer.

“Renee!” I yelled over the music. My roommate and questionable best friend turned in my direction, and her face went slack with relief. She jumped down from the stool and threw her arms around my neck.

“Aubrey, thank you so much for coming to get me,” she sobbed into my neck. I hugged the smaller girl and then pulled away.

Renee’s eyes were bloodshot; her mascara ran in dark ribbons down her cheeks. Her hair hung in a tangled mess on her back. She wrung her hands together in agitation, and my protective instincts kicked in.

She looked frightened and sad. I wanted to take Devon Keeton by the balls and give them a really painful squeeze. He didn’t deserve Renee. Why couldn’t she see that?

“Let’s go home,” I said, wrapping an arm around her trembling shoulders.

Keeping her close, and with a hand out in front of me, I started body-checking people as we made our way to the entrance.

The music had picked up a notch, and the air buzzed with a frenetic energy. It pulled me in and didn’t want to let go. A part of me wanted to stay and get lost in it. My feet stopped moving, and I felt inexplicably torn. I needed to leave, but I wanted to stay.

Renee tugged on my arm, and I gave myself a shake. My momentary loss of rational thinking gave way to the more pressing desire to ensure Brooks wasn’t making nice with bouncer Randy’s meaty fist.

Just as we made it to the door, I felt a tingling along the back of my neck—a sensual awareness that made my hair stand on edge. My mystery man, with his face shadowed, stood just to the side of the exit. I felt his eyes follow my movements, and I couldn’t suppress a shiver of apprehension that was oddly enticing.

I tried to meet his eyes, almost desperate to see them. But he turned away, denying me what I sought. I watched with a strange displeasure as he faded into the gloom.

“Aubrey!” I heard a yell coming from outside. Brooks looked anxious, and I knew he was only seconds from bulldozing his way inside.

Holding tight to Renee’s hand, I half dragged, half carried her out of the club. We passed Randy, whose scowl could have made a lesser person piss themselves. I was half tackled by a perilously-close-to-losing-it Brooks.

“You gave me gray hair, Aubrey! Gray hair!” Brooks yelled, grabbing me by the shoulders and giving me a little shake.

“Sorry. It took me a while to find Renee,” I explained, trying to communicate with my eyes for him to chill out.

Brooks rounded on Renee and gave her his best stern-older-brother expression. “What were you thinking, spending your evening at Hepatitis Central? You need a swift kick in the ass, girl,” he lectured, though I knew his harshness had more to do with being worried than anything else.

Renee hung her head sheepishly, and even though I wanted to give her my own lecture, I knew it wouldn’t do any good. She was obviously tired and in a state of emotional shutdown.

She didn’t need judging. She needed a good night’s sleep, and then maybe I could give her the “I told you your boyfriend was a total dickhead” speech.

“Sorry, Brooks,” Renee said quietly, and I glared at Brooks, who held his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Okay, it’s cool. Let’s just get the hell out of here. I sure hope your car still has tires,” he muttered as we started to walk away from Compulsion.

As we headed down the street, I couldn’t help looking one last time back over my shoulder.

I couldn’t decide whether I felt disappointment or relief that the person I was searching for was nowhere in sight.