Love on the Vine

by Roxanne Smith

  Oliver sighed, downed the lukewarm coffee in his hand, and shuffled to the bathroom to change. He didn’t like the plan but couldn’t argue it was the right one.

  He did his best to look and sound normal as he strode into Free Leaf Concepts. He smiled benignly at Brit, waved, and headed for the elevator, then remembered his part. “Hey, Brit, forward Kay’s calls and messages to me today, would you? She called me this morning with a warning to avoid the Italian place down the road.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Brit replied in a bored voice. “She called Seraphina, too. I don’t like Italian, anyway. Too messy.”

  A few minutes later, Oliver let himself into Kay’s office. Seraphina had gathered the team there. Brendan walked in seconds after. “Oh, hey guys. Seen Kay?”

  Oliver and Seraphina spoke at the same time, then laughed it off awkwardly, which made it seem all the more plausible. “Brit said you’d already heard from Kay?” he mentioned innocuously.

  Seraphina gave them a sad smile. “Yeah. She said she had lunch at a little Italian place and ended up going home early with an upset stomach. Bad puttanesca.”

  Oliver nodded. “She said something about food she had sitting out, but I don’t see anything on her desk. Anyone see a salad in the breakroom fridge? I left scones, but I bet someone on the cleaning crew took care of those,” he added with a smirk.

  “If she left food out, they’d toss it,” Jasper cut in quietly. He shrugged. “Or eat it and claim to have tossed it.”

  It took every ounce of Oliver’s willpower to avoid studying every face in the room intently, Brendan’s most of all. The supposed spy.

  Brendan cleared his throat. “Oh. Well, okay. If you hear from her again, tell her I said get well soon.”

  “Of course,” Oliver replied. “She was well enough to make a few phone calls, so—”

  “And to be highly annoyed by the illness,” Seraphina added.

  Nice touch. “She’ll be back soon, right as rain.”

  Brendan nodded and left. Oliver exchanged a heavy glance with Seraphina, wasted several minutes shoveling useless papers around Kay’s desk, then excused himself. A force was gathering in his chest. Something had to give. Brendan’s position and motives were murky, and Kay might be sleeping now, but there was no telling how coherent she’d be when she finally woke up. What if she couldn’t tell them who gave her the salad? Oliver had a single hunch, and if Kay being drugged was any indication, now was the time to act on it.

  He passed the elevator, and entered the stairwell. He bounded up the stairs and let himself onto the fifth floor. Brendan’s office door was closed. Hopefully, he was ensconced inside. Same for Merit’s and Easton’s. Early morning, everyone was slowly waking up to the working day. Probably hovering over third cups of coffee and yesterday’s paperwork.

  Oliver steeled himself and knocked on Mr. Arnell’s door.

  The imposing man opened the door a crack. He peered down at Oliver, his brows forming a deep V of consternation. “Oliver...Pierce, is it? Have you got the right door, young man?”

  He refused to fidget. He was out of his mind, taking his biggest risk yet. He might as well do it with some aplomb. “Absolutely. We need to talk, sir.”

  “Is this about a promotion? Because I don’t deal with human resources. You should talk to Merit—”

  “Merit is exactly who I don’t want to talk to, but thanks.” Oliver lost patience and shouldered himself into the office. Mr. Arnell gave way and closed the door behind him. Oliver continued before he lost his nerve. “I overheard you two in the stairwell. She said she’d handle everything. I need to know what that conversation was about.”

  “I...it’s, uh, complicated, um...business things, you know.” Mr. Arnell’s Adam’s apple bobbed in a long, nervous swallow. His eyes darted around the room, bouncing from place to place in an effort to avoid Oliver.

  “You’re scared.” It was the last reaction he could have expected. Oliver shook his head, confused. “I don’t get it. Are you in on the drug ring or not? Is Merit threatening you somehow?” He dug the small mushroom figurine from his pocket and held it out, trapped between his thumb and index finger. “Why do you have this? What’s it for? A signal? A badge of some kind?” Easton’s rapid blinking and guppy mouth incensed him. He slammed a fist down onto the desk. “Come on! No more games. Kay is in danger. We’re running out of time to get to the bottom of this. You’re either involved, or you know who is.”

  Or so he prayed. Cappy Don was going to pull him off the case so fast, he’d get whiplash, but as long as he came away with something, Oliver didn’t care. He didn’t have any more time to tiptoe around the greenhouses or play hide-and-seek with Brendan. The conversation between Merit and Easton was the only untapped lead Oliver had. He was going to squeeze it until it bled information.

  Easton’s gaze landed on the mushroom still poised between Oliver’s fingers. “Where did you get that?”

  “Oliver Pierce, special investigations. I found it in your desk.”

  “My niece runs a pottery shop in mid-town. We supplied her with an order of rare mushrooms for a window display, and she made this for me as a thank you gift.”

  “And the secret room on this floor? Start talking, Mr. Arnell. If Kay dies, you’re an accessory.” Her condition wasn’t that bad, but Easton didn’t know that.

  He blanched and gritted his teeth in the first show of emotion beyond fear and confusion. “Follow me. I—I don’t know if it’s safe.”

  Oliver waited while Easton came around the desk, pulled a thin volume from the bookcase, and gave the whole thing a nudge with his shoulder. A partition fell back half a foot, far enough for Easton to push it to one side.

  Oliver let his mouth pop open. “The stupid hidden room was in here the whole time I was fingering for loose panels? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Mr. Arnell glanced back at him. His displeasure was made plain in the straight ridge of his brow and the grim set of his mouth. “Only Merit knows. Well, and Neve Harper.”

  “Neve? Neve Harper?”

  Easton beckoned him through. “She designed the room.”

  “Wait...Neve designed it? How is she involved in this?”

  Easton gave Oliver a wry smile over his shoulder. “She isn’t. I’m afraid you’ve got a few things backward, Mr. Pierce. Come inside, have a seat. I’ll do my best to fill you in.”

  Oliver’s mouth dropped open as he stepped over the threshold. The room wasn’t filled with file cabinets like he’d imagined. There wasn’t even a desk. “It’s a bedroom.”

  “Apartment,” Mr. Arnell corrected. “Small kitchenette in the corner. Sink, mini fridge. Couch rolls out into a bed. Behind the swinging door there’s a shower stall. Fairly basic equipment, but serviceable.”

  “You should get to the filling me in part.” Oliver sighed and set his hands on his hips. Disappointment didn’t quite do his emotional state justice. “Because you’re right, I definitely have some stuff backward.”

  * * * *

  Kay dodged the hammer again. Finn was oblivious, swinging wildly. He wasn’t trying to hurt her—she knew it in her bones—but all the same, each swing came close to crushing her. She ducked and rolled away a second time, slamming hard into the ground. Pain lanced through her shoulder.

  Neve’s voice crackled to life as if she spoke from the heavens. “Kay, you’re fine. No one’s after you. I’m with you.”

  Neve’s face washed into Kay’s vision like a wave splashed upon the shore, there and gone again. Half of it was cast in shadow, and in that shadow, disdain hid with razor teeth—the part of Neve that had never liked Kay, never wanted her around. Kay was too bubbly, too annoying, too childish and stupid.

  She gasped at the point of a needle driving through her flesh. She looked at her legs, where the pain flared brightest. Neve had folded them over, backward and all wrong, like a bent paper doll, and was sewing Kay into a new shape. Into her shape.

 
“No, please. I’m not you. I promise, I’m not you.” And then Kay had the needle, stabbing and tearing herself into Neve’s form.

  “Oliver.” If Oliver came, she’d be okay. Oliver liked her. All of her. The small, hard parts, and the fluffy, giddy parts. Slowly, she began to unfold, and the threads binding her loosened.

  “Good. Good job. Stay calm, sweetie. You’re okay.” Neve was back.

  “Please go,” Kay begged. The rejection Neve kept hidden was a physical pain in Kay’s heart. Sorrow engulfed her, and her breath caught as sobs clogged her throat. Why wasn’t Oliver there? “Oli...”

  “Hey, hey. I’m here. I’m right here.” A firm hand ensconced Kay’s.

  She’d waited a million years for that touch, and relief made her breathing shallow. Warmth gushed from the contact, spreading up her arms and over her body like a tender, cleansing fire. She held on for dear life. A pinpoint of light stabbed into her head and somewhere in the back of her mind, she recognized the overhead light in her bedroom.

  Eyes. She was opening her eyes. She blinked and squinted, trying to turn her head away. She managed to groan, lift a hand, and point. The light was quickly extinguished. Kay tried peeling open her eyes again. They burned like pissed off ants had taken up residence in her sockets. Before she could say any of the millions of things rushing through her head, darkness swirled and she fell away.

  A harsh cough jerked Kay into consciousness. Flames licked the inside of her throat. Panicked, her hands reached for her neck, but only one made it. The other was twined with another hand.

  Long, thick fingers braided into hers. Oliver. Kay squeezed, reassured beyond all reason when he squeezed back. Movement made the bed creak, and Oliver’s soft voice pierced the dark. Her eyes opened, but it stayed dark. It was nighttime, and there were no lights were on. And Oliver was with her. “You awake?”

  Fragments of nightmares flashed in front of her eyes, and she blinked them away. “Yeah.” Her voice came out a gravelly croak. “I need water.”

  Her mistake became evident when Oliver tried to leave the bed. She tugged him back as hard as her strength allowed. “Never mind. Don’t go.”

  “I’ll be quick, I promise. You need water, and not just for your throat. You’ve been in and out for over twenty-four hours. We had you on an IV drip yesterday, but you need to drink.”

  “Just wait, okay?” The nightmares were gone, but the terror was still a ball inside her chest, waiting for the slightest provocation to unfurl and take over. “I’m scared.”

  Oliver settled back in next to her. “You don’t need to be,” he murmured close to her ear. “They’re hallucinations, Kay. And I’m right here.”

  She knew what they were. Snatches of time came back to her. Dancing wallpaper, a swimming bus, a heartbroken tree—utter madness. Humiliation swamped her. She’d never felt so unarmed and vulnerable. She closed her eyes, focused on her breathing. Fat lot of good her gun did her now. She had no defense against this kind of assault. No one did.

  “I know it’s not real,” she said. “But the feelings are.” She told him about Neve in the greenhouse, eating the plants, and Seraphina in the tower, searching for her. Then Finn, swinging a hammer, unaware that each swing nearly killed her.

  Oliver was silent for a while. “So, your subconscious thinks Neve is a monster who doesn’t really like you, Seraphina is judgmental, and Finn has no idea your guilt over how the relationship ended is killing you. Or trying to. And me, well, I’m a superhero.”

  For the first time in what seemed like years, Kay smiled. The movement felt foreign on her face, like the muscles weren’t sure what to do anymore. “That’s stretching it.”

  “I accept you, protect you. I saved you,” he pointed out, a few shades shy of smug.

  Her smile faded. “Yeah. You did.”

  “You sound pretty disappointed about that.”

  “No, I just...I think I should see Finn. Every weapon my own mind had against me stems from that. Neve disdains me for being weak; Seraphina thinks I’m cruel.”

  “And here I am, thinking you’re great.” Oliver shifted closer and his free hand found Kay’s stomach in the dark, splaying over her. His thumb came to a rest in the hollow of her belly button. “I don’t think it would serve any purpose except to reopen old wounds. Even if you tell Finn the truth, do you think it will make him feel any better about how your engagement ended?”

  “Maybe not,” Kay admitted wearily. “But the guilt is eating me up inside.”

  Oliver took a breath, poised to argue again, but Kay cut him off. She had his opinion, and she’d decide what it was worth later, when she was fully herself again.

  “Tell me what’s been going on,” she insisted. “What have I missed?”

  He snorted softly. “Nothing and everything. Seraphina and I covered for you at work. We didn’t want to flush out the bad guy yet. So, we made up a story about you getting food poisoning and never eating the salad or scones that were left on your desk. We decided you would’ve seen them, at least, but apparently the nighttime cleaning crew tossed everything out.”

  “Huh.” Kay chewed her lip. “Clever. Did Brendan buy it?”

  Oliver cursed. “Fucking Brendan. I should’ve guessed. He gave you the salad?”

  “Well, I didn’t see him leave it on my desk, but he told me all about this great place and their great salad earlier in the day. It was living up to its reputation until I got a bite of something weird. I didn’t eat much more, but by the time I got on the bus...”

  She didn’t want to say any more. Bad enough it had even happened. She wanted to bury the whole experience as deep as it would go into her subconscious and never speak of it again.

  “We found the empty café bag. The scones might’ve saved your life.”

  Her smile returned, warm and welcome. “I guess you’re a superhero, after all.”

  He chuckled softly and snuggled closer into her side. “For you, I’m whatever I need to be. Assistant, partner in sleuth. The scone crusader.”

  Hearing her own breathy laugh almost made her feel normal again. It also made her realize her breath probably smelled like a family of skunks having a bad day. She promptly closed her mouth and spoke quietly through her lips, with her head turned away from Oliver’s face. “I’m a little hungry, actually. Water and plain toast sound kind of great.”

  Oliver’s weight shifted as he scooted away and rose from the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

  When he left, Kay inched toward the edge of the bed. She was lightheaded, and a dull headache pulsed from her temples. Ignoring it, she struggled to her feet and shuffled down the hall, to her bathroom. These old houses weren’t familiar with en suites, but creating one was on her to-do list for her master retreat.

  She locked the bathroom door, jacked the water to the hottest setting, and slipped under the weak stream with a slight gasp before adjusting the temperature. The steamy water sluicing over her skin was as good as a cup of coffee. Her mind shook itself from the remaining fog. Her skin tingled like it was coming to life after a long hibernation. She rolled her shoulders and stretched tired, sore neck muscles. She felt like she’d been hit by a bus.

  After several minutes, her hands started to shake. She hugged herself and shivered in the hot water. She’d almost died. No, worse than that. Someone had almost killed her. If she’d kept eating the salad, ate it all...

  She exhaled forcefully, pushing down panic. She let tears flow unhindered, let them mingle with the water running over her face. She couldn’t afford to think that way—to get caught up in what might’ve happened. The hard work wasn’t over until the bastard was caught. Then, Kay could fall apart and give in to her shattered sense of security.

  She scrubbed her whole body with a rough bar of soap, scouring the bad memories away as if they were marks on her skin. She washed her hair twice. Wrapped in a towel, she brushed her teeth three times, flossed twice, scrubbed her tongue like it had grown hair,
and spat mouthful after mouthful of Listerine. She kept at it until her mouth burned enough to make her eyes water.

  She blinked at her reflection in the tiny oval mirror posted above the sink. Blotchy skin and bloodshot eyes. She was a mess. But she was a scrubbed clean mess, and that did wonders to restore her. She kicked away her dirty clothes and shuffled back to her bedroom wrapped in her fluffiest robe.

  Oliver met her in the hallway. He had a tall glass of ice water in one hand and a plate of cookies in another.

  “What happened to toast?”

  He offered her a sweet smile. “You’re out of bread. But one of the lab guys brought these. Oatmeal raisin. Think you can handle them?”

  She scoffed playfully. “Now that I’ve showered, I can handle anything.” As if on a cue, a wave of dizziness pulsed over her.

  Oliver’s hands were tied up, so he stepped close, offering his body for support. “Yeah, okay, tough guy. Why don’t you tell me where I can dig out some comfy clothes for you while you lie back down for a while?”

  Kay leaned into him. She kept her eyes closed but managed a nod. It wasn’t the intense rush of vertigo she’d suffered earlier, at least. These were slow rolls of dizziness, like being on a tiny boat in rough water. A steady back and forth. Enough to upset her balance but, surprisingly, not her appetite. “Deal.” She snuggled into a pile of pillows, with the cookies on her lap and the water at her side, while Oliver dug through her drawers per her instructions and explained what he’d found in Easton’s office.

  “The most bizarre twist in this whole affair so far. Mr. Arnell apparently suffers from agoraphobia. Leaving work or his home gives him anxiety. The two hours he’s gone each day are for therapy appointments, and Merit is instrumental in his support system. Hence the conversation I overheard from Brendan’s office. Anyway, Easton began missing a boatload of work when the issue got severe a few years ago, so he has a small apartment hidden behind the bookcase in his office. Neve designed the damn thing.”