Page 149 of Dissolving Prejudice

Jordan’s brows pinched together into one idiotic expression. “Oh shit!” He gasped. “D-Dylan, he… he hit me—ugh.” He winced, and I assumed it was due to the hit he took to the head.

“His name’s Oro, and he’s not at all who you thought he was.”

“What does that mean?”

Ignoring his question, I sighed. “Please tell me you called someone on your way here.”

He stayed silent, so I went on. “You know, like the police? Those people in blue that are often the ones you call when someone’s in danger?”

“I-I didn’t think it was needed.”

I tossed my head back with a grunt. “Let me get it straight… you saw someone kidnapping me, and you didn’t think calling the fucking cops was needed?”

“Sorry for not thinking it through.” He grunted. “I was confused, okay?”

“It’s not okay, you fucking idiot!” I tried nudging my chair closer to him, but the rope wrapped around my torso tightened with the slightest move, and I quickly gave up.

“I’m sorry, okay?”

“Your sorry ain’t worth shit when we’re about to be shot by a damn hooker!”

“A h-hooker?”

God help me. From all that I’d just said, this was what he was hung up on?

“Yes, Jordan, your sweet friend Dylan is a prostitute working in the Venetian.”

A crease formed between his eyebrows before he spoke. “The Venetian? Isn’t that the—”

“The club run by that gangster you owed money to back in high school and which Camilo used to work for? Yeah, that’s the place.”

Confusion crossed his face. To be fair, it was a lot to take in.

“Camilo? You mean Diesel is connected to this?”

For a moment, I focused on the trail of dry blood that ran down his face. Poor guy. I guess he truly was clueless. “Oro, or Dylan, whatever you want to call that filth… he’s obsessed with Camilo. Hence why I’m here, tied to this fucking chair!” I raised my voice at that last word, hoping it would catch Oro’s attention, who, for the past few minutes, had disappeared. I didn’t miss the guy, but I’d rather keep an eye on the fucker than have him wander around, plotting who knew what.

“This doesn’t make sense. Dylan is just this nice guy I met at my boxing gym. He isn’t a hooker. He works at… “

Jordan’s words died, so I glared at him. “He worked at?” I asked, waiting for him to go on when his whole face fell.

“I don’t know. When I think about it, he never spoke about himself and mostly asked about me and…” Closing his eyes, he sighed. “You.”

“That piece of human shit.” I ground my teeth while thinking back on all those times Jordan met up with his friend “Dylan.” For God’s sake, he even brought that creature to our fucking home.

“I’m sorry, Shay-Lee. I had no clue.”

“That’s your life problem, Jordan. Being a clueless moron.”

“Hey—” he began protesting when we heard footsteps. We immediately shut up and waited with bated breath until Oro showed up in the living room with a duffle bag hung on his shoulder.

Dropping it to the floor, he bent down and rummaged inside it until he pulled out a notebook and a pencil. Jordan and I exchanged glares until Oro straightened up and cleared his throat.

“Okay, now’s the time to write your little goodbye note.” He smiled, his eyes focused on me.

Cold sweat ran down my nape and slid underneath my shirt. I struggled to breathe, both because of the rope tightened around my chest and because of the stress, when an idea came to my mind.

“You’re not actually going through with that plan, right?” I huffed, causing them both to frown at me.