Chapter Eleven
Asher called from downstairs forty minutes later and Tyson let him up. He was just putting away the vacuum cleaner when his friend walked through his door.
"I'm here man. You owe me big time."
Tyson met him in the living room. He'd patched up his knife wound and was pulling a fresh shirt over his head. When Asher's face came back into view, it bore a haunted look on it.
"Tyson, what's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Bull. Your aura... It's black and red, swirly, and... just not right man. Plus," he sniffed the air, "something was just burning in here."
"You're wrong." Tyson could barely look him in the eyes.
"Where's the girl?"
He choked only slightly on the word, "Gone."
Asher shook his head. "Man, come out with it."
"Drop it, Ash. And give me a ride to the damned airport, alright?"
His friend looked worried, but let it go. With a long sigh, he said, "Let me grab your bag, man."
Tyson handed it over and walked out behind Asher. He didn't dare look back towards the bedroom as he pulled the apartment door closed and locked it.
Murder, Mayhem, Monsters, and Mistletoe Page 15
