It didn’t look like any “private facility” she’d ever seen. Also, they weren’t in a very good part of town. She’d been expecting to be taken to another hospital or an urgent care center—though honestly it was hard to concentrate on wondering where Brad was when Jimmy Moreno kept talking at her.
The big man had kept up a steady stream of conversation as the long black limo drove them through the streets of Vegas. He’d talked about how The Palms had “gone to the dogs” since she had left and how Vegas was getting too crowded and The Strip wasn’t what it used to be and all manner of small talk that was neither here nor there, though it kept Jillian nodding politely and replying in all the right places. In fact, he hadn’t stopped talking for a minute until they’d pulled up in front of this weird, darkened warehouse.
Almost as though he was trying to distract me from where we were going, Jillian thought now. All through the trip, she’d been consumed with making polite answers to Moreno’s small talk. A holdover, she supposed, from the past when she had been the Executive Chef talking to a VIP. But now she was alone with a man she barely knew in a dark, deserted location. It was about ten pm Earth time and there were no other cars in sight and only a single, lonely streetlamp lighting the road.
“Where are we?” she asked, looking around herself warily. “Where’s Brad?”
“Oh, he’s in here.” Moving faster than should be possible for such a big man, Jimmy suddenly grabbed her by the arm. Hooking his arm through hers in an unbreakable grip, he began escorting her towards the warehouse.
“Hey, stop! I don’t like this, I want to go home!” Jillian tried to put on the brakes, but her earlier assessment of Jimmy as a gorilla in a suit was proving to be correct. He dragged her along easily, as though it was no trouble at all.
“Come on now, honeybee, don’t be like that,” he said coaxingly, though Jillian could hear iron underneath his light tone. “Come and see Brad—he’s been missing you, you know.”
And before she could protest further, Jillian found herself being dragged through the doorway of the dark warehouse.
“Help! Stop!” she shouted. Her voice echoed in the deserted building, but nobody came to her aid. No surprise, since no matter how loud she got, there was apparently nobody around to hear her, she thought dismally.
“That’s enough of that now, honeybee,” Jimmy Moreno crooned in her ear. “No need to shout—I’m just taking you to see Brad.”
“I don’t want—” Jillian began, but just then, Moreno steered her through another doorway in a darkened corner of the warehouse. The doorway led into a small room within the larger structure which was revealed when he flipped a switch.
The single bulb hanging from a ceiling cord made a puddle of brilliance around a figure slumped in a folding chair. After a moment, Jillian realized, with horror, that the figure was her ex.
“Brad?” she whispered, taking a step towards him. “Oh my God, what happened to you?”
For a fact, her ex was looking a lot worse for the wear. His hands were tied behind his back and his brown eyes were red and puffy and nearly swollen shut. There was a huge lump growing on his jaw where someone had apparently punched him and his bottom lip was split and blood had dribbled down his chin onto his rumpled white dress shirt. In short, he looked like someone had really worked him over.
“Jilly-baby? ‘zat you?” he muttered, peering up at her through his puffy, swollen eyes.
“Yup, she came down just like you said she would.” Jimmy Moreno beamed down at Jillian. “Guess she still loves you after all, Braddy-boy.”
“Wait—you tricked me to get me down here?” Jillian stared at him. “What’s going on here? Why would you do that? I haven’t even seen Brad for over two years, since I found him in bed with a Cirque de Soleil performer.”
“Jilly-baby, don’t lie like that,” Brad whispered, giving her a pitiful look from his slitted, swollen eyes. “I know I hurt you real bad, but I swear that girl didn’t mean anything to me—I was just drunk, is all. Please just tell Jimmy where you hid the money so we can both get out of here.”
“Hid the money?” Jillian stared at him blankly. “What money? What are you talking about?”
“He’s talking about the fifty thousand dollars he was holding for us that you ran off with, honeybee.” Jimmy Moreno’s voice was considerably less friendly now, despite the charming little nickname. “You have to understand that my associates and I can’t have that kind of thing going on, no matter how mad you are at your man for cheating.”