me to take her, man? I’ll take care of it. I’ve known this chick for a while.” He opened the car door wide and stepped out of the way.
“No,” I barked. I didn’t trust anyone with an unconscious Donna, let alone a guy who went by Shady. But I forced my tone to lighten up as I lowered her gently into the passenger seat. “I got it. She goes to my school. We . . . I know her. I’ll make sure she’s safe.”
Shady remained silent as I fastened the seat belt over Donna’s limp body.
“You sure?” His eyes flicked between us as I straightened.
“I’m sure. Are you sure that’s what they gave her? Maybe I should take her to a hospital.”
He cringed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t, bro. It would look hella sus, you bringing in a chick you hardly know, roofied. Aren’t you supposed to be staying out of trouble?”
I didn’t give a shit what kind of trouble it landed me in. I wasn’t about to risk someone’s life—not again.
“Anyway”—he shrugged—“it’s definitely Rohypnol. We beat it out of ’em pretty quick.”
I sighed, said goodbye to Shady, and got into the driver’s side. Even though I didn’t care what kind of questions a hospital visit would raise, I knew Donna would. No one knew about her secret little walks on the wild side, but maybe it was time they did.
Chapter Sixteen
Donna
I wasn’t sure if the pounding in my head had woken me or if waking up had caused the pounding. All I knew was that I felt like shit.
I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut and mushing my face farther into the pillow. My stomach felt as if it were doing somersaults while twirling my intestines into a knot. I was so fucking hungover that—
My eyes flew open, immediately making me wince against the light, but I had bigger problems. There was no way I could be hungover, because I hadn’t been drinking last night. I never drank or did drugs when I went to Davey’s.
Panic clawed at my throat as I forced myself to look around. The sheets were gray, the desk under the window cluttered, a TV sat in the corner. This wasn’t my room.
Where the hell was I?
How did I get here?
What happened to me?
Fighting the bile rising up my throat, I lifted myself into a sitting position and couldn’t help groaning again. I’d never felt this crap before—not even when I had the flu last year. And that was so bad the doctors nearly put me on IV fluids.
The fact that I had no idea where I was or any memory of how I got there was beyond disturbing. I wasn’t an idiot—I knew what happened to girls in shady bars sometimes. It was why I went there—the danger of the maybe. I just never thought I’d actually end up . . . oh god. I sucked in several deep breaths, fighting for air through the panic and the nausea and the hot tears pricking my eyes.
Was I raped?
I swallowed a sob and, with shaky hands, pushed the comforter and tangled sheets off myself completely. I was still in my leopard-print dress, my thong still in place. The only things missing were my shoes, but I spied them on the floor at the foot of the bed.
I shifted my legs. I didn’t feel sore between them, but would I? If I was out and didn’t fight it . . .
The room spun, bringing on another wave of nausea, and I lowered myself back to the pillow with a pathetic half sob, half whimper.
I had to get the fuck out of there, but I couldn’t even get my body to stand.
Closing my eyes, I forced myself to take deep breaths through the churning in my stomach and the pounding in my head. I needed to get my shit together and get up.
My eyes flew open again at the sound of the door opening, but the only movement I could force my body into was rolling onto my back and turning my head to look.
“Hendrix?”
He was barefoot, in sweats and a T-shirt that was baggy even on his broad, muscular frame. One of his hands clutched a bright pink mug.
“Oh. Hey. You’re up.” I’d never seen the asshole look so uncertain. His eyes flicked about the room, not staying on me too long. “How . . . uh . . . you OK?”
“Am I . . .” My bruised brain was struggling to keep