“Fine.” I hoped my relief didn’t show.
“I heard you took a bullet for me,” Dana said, her voice rough from having a tube down her throat for the past six days. She was propped up in bed, in a private room, looking awful, but alive.
“I wouldn’t say that,” I protested.
Her light brown hair fell loose around her shoulders, and I realized I’d never seen it down. It softened the angles of her heart-shaped face. She looked like Kate.
Her hazel eyes glinted with humor. “Good. Because I’d hate to think I’d trained you so badly you thought bullets were part of the job.”
I smiled. “No, ma’am. You were an excellent teacher.”
“Don’t call me ma’am. I’m younger than you are.”
“Yes, Ms. Williamson.” I clapped a hand over my mouth. “I meant, Ms. Williams, sorry.”
She fluttered a pale hand at me, causing the tube stuck into it to jump and sway. “It’s fine. Everyone knows now. I might as well put it on Facebook.” She gave me a small smile.
“I can do it for you if you like,” I offered.
“You always were a suck-up.” We were silent a moment. “In all seriousness, this whole ordeal has been a wake-up call. I don’t want to end up like Josh, pushing everyone away. I don’t even want to push him away. I think, one day, when we’re both feeling better, I might be able to forgive him.” She looked at me, her eyes searching.
I nodded. “I think that would be good.”
Her relief was obvious.
I wished I had the feather with me. “I don’t know if Connor told you, but we visited your mum during the investigation. She asked me to tell you she misses you.”
A flurry of emotions crossed Dana’s face, and she looked down to hide them. “I’ve been thinking of her too,” she said at last. “She didn’t deserve me leaving like that, without a word.”
I rolled my wheelchair forward and clasped her hand. “I’m pretty sure she’ll be able to forgive you too.”
She mulled this over, then tightened her hand around mine. “Thank you.”
I squeezed back. “Anytime. I’ll see you around?”
“Well, only if the all-powerful Taste Society allows it.”
We shared a smile, and I wheeled myself to the door.
“Oh, Izzy, one more thing.”
With difficulty, I turned the wheelchair to face her again.
“If you ever make a turkey joke, I’ll shoot you myself.”
I gave her a salute. “Must run in the family.”
26
Connor wheeled me to his car, picking up my crutches on the way. My leg was throbbing from my earlier exertions, and I was trying hard not to think about the two flights of stairs between me and my apartment.
“So, what am I supposed to tell Oliver? And Etta? And anyone else who hears I got shot?”
“Stick with Josh’s story that you were hit in a random shooting. As far as anyone needs to know, you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
I couldn’t help but think that if I hadn’t had pepper spray, or hadn’t doubled over from the first bullet, everyone would’ve believed that. Even Connor.
“What do I tell them I was doing in Death Alley?”
“Being a dumb tourist.”
I wanted to argue, but the simplest explanation was probably the best one. Neither Oliver nor Etta would have a hard time believing I’d do something that stupid.
“Speaking of, tell me how you really got shot. From the beginning.”
I told him. He didn’t interrupt and didn’t say anything when I’d finished. The vein in his neck had reappeared, though.
“Is there any news on Albert?” I dared to ask.
“Not yet.”
“Um. I might need you to get me some more pepper spray, then.”
Connor popped the center console, pulled out a new canister, and handed it to me without saying a word.
“Thanks.” I rolled the cylinder between my fingers. “And thank you for, well, saving me too.”
Connor met my eyes for a beat. “You saved yourself, Avery. You did well.”
I thought about that for a minute.
“But if—”
“If you hadn’t gone to do my job without me, you wouldn’t have needed saving?”
I’d planned to point out that if he hadn’t come along and shot Josh, I would’ve died. After his last comment, I decided he didn’t need the ego boost.
“I bet you were one of those bossy kids, weren’t you?” I asked instead. “The one that always got to be Batman and made the other kid be Robin.”
“Maybe. But I bet you were the kid that didn’t get to be Batman or Robin because you were in the hospital. With a broken leg. Because you didn’t listen when your momma said don’t jump off the roof.”
“It was the trampoline actually.”
Connor looked smug.
We pulled up to my apartment. “I should warn you, there might be a few people waiting to welcome you home,” Connor said. “Don’t forget you’re supposed to be my girlfriend.”
“Gee, Connor, if you want me to kiss you, just say so.”
“I want you to kiss me.”
I looked at him. He looked at me.
“Very funny.” I opened my own car door for once. I wasn’t falling for that again. Unfortunately, getting out of the car proved difficult. How the hell would I get up the stairs?
“Stop flailing those crutches around. I’ll carry you up.”
Thank goodness. “That’s real sweet of you, schnookums.”
“Remember, you haven’t passed your assessment yet.”
I groaned. How could I forget? On the bright side, as long as Mr. Black stuck to our agreement, I had a few days left before it was his turn to try to kill me.
Connor bore me up the two flights of stairs and sideways past Etta’s sofa. At the top, he wasn’t panting. In fact, even with my head pressed against his chest, I couldn’t pick up any elevation in his heart rate. It wasn’t fair. He made it seem easier to lug me up the stairs than it was to walk up myself. I didn’t know whether to nestle my head farther into his chest or hit him.
The door swung open before I could do either, and Etta was there beaming at me, Oliver a step behind her. “I’m so disappointed in you,” she said. “I’d just finished telling you how bored I was, and then you went off and had an adventure without me.”
“I’ll get you a drink,” Oliver said, with a meaningful look at the back of Etta’s head. “Actually, I might get me a drink too.”
Connor carried me inside and deposited me on the couch next to Meow. “I’ll grab the rest of your things.”
I pulled Meow onto my lap and started petting her. I’d missed the comfort of her soft, sleek fur and rumbling purrs.
Etta sat down next to us, her eyes tracking Connor as he made his exit. “My, my, he’s even better up close.”
“It’s nice to see you too. Did you leave me any cookies?”
Her cheeks went pink. “Ah, I’ll have to check.”
“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you blush.”
She threw me a dirty look. “I don’t blush. Your pain medication must be affecting your vision.”
Oliver handed me a cup of tea and sat down on the other side of me. “Would I be able to get some of that pain medication? I’ve had to put up with Etta all morning.”
Etta switched her dirty look over to Oliver while I smiled, sipped my tea, and stroked Meow some more.
They were still glaring at each other when Connor returned with my crutches. He leaned them next to me on the couch, then stood in front of us all with his arms folded, looking uncomfortable. Meow was very comfortable and kept rubbing her cheek against my tea cup in a demand for further attention.
“I think we need ice cream,” I said.
Etta rose to her feet. “Well, wouldn’t you know it, I happen to have a whole freezer full of ice cream. I’ll be right back. Then you can tell us all about that
time you got shot.”
To my surprise, Connor claimed one of the armchairs and stuck around while the rest of us exchanged news.
Etta caught me up on our neighbors’ antics. One of the Korean gentlemen in 1C had a late-night visitor she thought was a call girl. Mr. Winkle had threatened to set his fighting fish on Ms. Pleasant after she complained his unit smelled fishy to the apartment management board. And Ms. Pleasant told Mr. Winkle that if he threatened her again, she’d buy a cat and let it loose in his apartment.
Oliver favored me with his latest rant about the Queen. “Did you know she refuses to wear a helmet when she rides her herd of horses? The UK spends millions of pounds on her security every year, yet she can’t even concede to wear a bloody helmet. I mean, it’s no worse than a bunch of her hats, but no, a helmet doesn’t fit in with her sense of self, and it’s not like she has to pay her own medical bills, so tallyho, cracked skull here we come!”
And I told them the edited version of how I got shot.
One gallon of ice cream later, Oliver left for work. Etta winked at me and announced that she had to go too, leaving Connor and me alone.
I gestured to the empty ice cream container. “Well, at least my stomach hurts more than my leg now.”
Connor gave me one of his lip twitches that equated to a normal person’s smile. “Would you like another cup of tea to settle it?”
“You know how to make a cup of tea?”
He got up and put the kettle on, not deigning to answer. “I submitted an application for your advance pay.”
“But we agreed—”
“I know what we agreed.”
“Does that mean you’re passing me?”
“I figured it’d take a few days to go through. As long as you can keep your act together in the meantime, then yes, I’ll pass you.”
“Oh. Good.”
“You don’t sound very excited.”
“Well. I did get shot. And poisoned.”
He handed me a cup of tea. “Sure, but it’s not the Shade profession you should be worried about—all the bad guys were in the food industry. It’s your old career you need to reconsider.”
I groaned. “Thanks for pointing that out.”
“You’re welcome. There’s another thing you might want to reconsider too.”
I cupped the mug in my hands and took a sip. “Oh?”
“Once you pass, you’ll get a new assignment.”
Wow. He really did know how to make tea. “Uh-huh.”
Connor leaned in, his breath on my neck sending lightning streaking downward. “That means there’s only a few days left where you’re still allowed to sleep with me.”
I took another sip of the tea. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
27
For the second morning in a row, I woke up to someone standing over me. This time, the blob wasn’t Connor. Or Oliver. Or Etta. The blob was Albert. I stifled a scream and pasted a smile on my face. Albert looked a bit taken aback too, but that was probably just his reaction to my slept-in, electrocuted zombie hairdo.
“Albert. What are you doing here?”
“I heard you got shot. I brought soup.” He held out a Tupperware container. This was the goofy, awkward Albert I’d met at the market. The one I didn’t think would hurt or drug anyone. I knew better now.
“Wow. Thank you. That’s very kind, but—”
“I have someone watching Connor. They’ll call me if he heads this way. Until then, I thought we might spend some time together.”
“Um.”
“Your housemate is out. No one will know.”
I tried to find words. “It’s good to see you,” I lied at last, “but I can’t do much, you know, after being shot and all.”
He leaned forward and kissed me. I managed not to retch into his mouth.
“I think we can still have fun,” he said.
I attempted another smile. “Okay. Well, let me just make myself a little more presentable”—I gestured to my zombie hairdo—“brush my hair and all that.”
He looked at my hair. “Okay. But be quick. I’m an impatient man when it comes to you, sweet cheeks.”
He left the room, and I grabbed my phone. It was dead. I’d forgotten to charge it last night. I plugged it in, snatched some clothes off the floor and put them on as fast as possible while racking my brain about where I’d left my pepper spray and Taser. I found them in the bag Connor had brought home for me from the medical facility. He’d even changed over the Taser cartridge. I sent a silent thank-you his way.
“Izzy? I’m waiting.”
The outfit I’d thrown on didn’t have pockets. I shoved the Taser down my skirt’s waistband at the small of my back and let my top hang loose over it. The new pepper spray went down my bra.
“Do you need help getting dressed?”
“No!” I shouted. “I’ll be right there.”
My phone was still dead.
I limped to the mirror, wrestled my zombie hair into a short ponytail, and threw on a bit of mascara. I did not want to be stuck with Albert in my bedroom, so I grabbed my crutches and hopped on out to the open living area.
He was sitting at the dining table. In my absence, someone, probably Etta, had gotten rid of the dying remnants of his flowers. Oliver would have left them to rot and then I’d be in even more trouble. There was a steaming bowl next to him. “Have some soup, sweet cheeks.”
Starving and glad for any opportunity to stall his intended make out session, I sat down. As I took the first sip, Albert began unbuttoning his shirt. The soup was spiked. Not just with the date rape drug, which I’d half expected; there was belladonna in it too. Just enough to cause agonizing cramps and vomiting without killing me.
I resisted the urge to spit it out and sat back in my chair, holding my stomach. “Actually, I’m not really hungry right now. It’s the painkillers I’m on. They make me nauseous.”
A flash of annoyance flickered across Albert’s face as he laid his shirt over the chair next to him. “The soup will make you feel better,” he lied.
What was his plan? I’d thought he was hell-bent on getting in my pants, but no one finds vomiting sexy. Then again, belladonna took a couple of hours to kick in. Maybe he was planning on doing the deed, then leaving me to puke my guts up, but why?
“I’m sorry. It was super sweet of you to bring it, and I’m sure I’ll enjoy it later, but I just can’t right now.”
The anger flashed across his face again. “Eat it.” There was a note of warning in his voice that made me think there was a silent or else.
I looked at him, eyes wide, feigning innocence. “Albert, what’s gotten into you?”
“You lied to me.”
“I don’t—”
“Two nights ago. When I came over. I watched and waited after you forced me to leave. Connor never came back with any wine.”
I thought fast. “He said he was going to, but he stood me up. I didn’t know!”
He gazed at me coldly, the anger now more than just a fleeting expression. “I don’t believe you.” He slammed his fist against the table. “Any of you! My fiancée lied to me. You lied to me. And I don’t deserve it. I deserve better!” He lunged to his feet and pinned me to the chair with both hands.
This was not a position Connor had shown me how to get out of.
“You do deserve better,” I agreed, hoping it would calm him down. But the fury in his eyes only blazed brighter.
I calculated whether I could deliver a swift kick to his balls with my good leg, but the table leg was in the way.
“I’ll show you what happens to sluts like you who tease me,” he hissed. “You will beg for me to take you, and then, when you’ve felt the ecstasy I bring you, you’ll suffer the agony of my going.”
My Taser was inaccessible, pressed between my back and the chair, and there was no chance I could get to my pepper spray, flick off the safety, and aim it, without Albert intervening. I looked around for a makeshift weapon.
Etta was peering through the window. Our eyes met, and she gave me a thumbs up and a wink before leaving. My mouth seesawed in disbelief. She must’ve thought we were doing some kinky sex thing. She wouldn’t have been able to see Albert’s angry face from her vantage point and probably chalked up my horror to her catching us in the act.
“Help!” I yelled.
She didn’t reappear.
“Etta, pl—”
Albert released his grip on one of my arms to cover my mouth. “Hush now, sweet cheeks. I won’t do anything you don’t deserve.”
This from the guy who thought the poor and desolate deserved what life dealt them. I was not comforted.
“Now. Promise me you’ll be quiet and cooperate, or I’ll have to knock you unconscious. It won’t stop me from screwing you, it’ll just make it a little less fun for both of us.” I shuddered. “Nod if you understand.”
I nodded. Let him think I was cooperating until I had a chance to grab the Taser or pepper spray. With my loose-fitting top the only thing concealing them, I’d have to make my move before he made me undress.
“Now, eat your soup.”
I took the spoon from him and swallowed another mouthful, moving as slowly as I thought I could get away with. He sat back down at the table. “Keep both hands where I can see them. I’d hate to have to hurt you.”
Yeah, right.
I ate more soup, Albert watching my every move. “You’re quite attractive,” he said, flashing his goofy grin.
This guy was unhinged.
“Pity you didn’t have time to get dolled up for me. But I thought you’d like the surprise.”
I grimaced at him and took another spoonful. Maybe I could make myself throw up and pretend the belladonna had started working already. I forced my poor brain to remember Albert’s roving hands on my body. It made me dry-retch. No vomit.
Damn it.
Meow ran out of Oliver’s bedroom and swished herself around my legs, meowing loudly. This was her way of telling me it was time for breakfast. She meowed again.
“Get that cat to shut up.”
“She’s only hungry. Can I feed her?”
Albert smirked at me. “Not a chance. You just concentrate on that soup, sweet cheeks.”
Eat, Pray, Die (An Eat, Pray, Die Humorous Mystery Book 1) Page 23
