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Riggs and I turned to each other. What was going on? Charlie didn’tlookdrunk and didn’t smell drunk. This seemed more like an episode of sorts.
“Charlie ...,” I said softly, stepping forward. “I think you’ve got the wrong door.”
He whipped his head toward my door and scratched his head. “Huh. Right. Mine says twenty-four, not twenty-two.”
“We can call a locksmith,” I suggested.
“I don’t have anything on me,” Charlie said, patting his front pockets. “No ID, no wallet ...”
My gaze instinctively dropped down to said pockets, and I let out a gasp, slapping my mouth. There was a large, round stain around his groin area. He’dsoiledhimself. This vital, handsome grown man, who wasn’t intoxicated or impaired in any way I could see, had peed himself.
Riggs must’ve seen the same thing, because he made his way toward us quickly, inserting himself as a buffer between Charlie and me, like the sweet man could ever hurt me.
“Why don’t you head inside, Poppins? I’ll join you in a second.”
My eyes snapped from Charlie’s pants to my husband. My mouth was still agape.
“I ... I ... he said he doesn’t have any docs on him. No wallet. A locksmith won’t open the door for him.”
“I’m not calling a locksmith,” Riggs said dryly.
Was he going to break into Charlie’s flat? That was a terrible idea. Charlie was renting, like me.
“Riggs, you can’t—” I started, then saw the resolute look on his face. My shoulders sagged. “I’ll be inside.”
“Thank you,” they both said, in harmony.
Same tone. Same voice. Same low rumble.
I turned to look at them again, blinking. And suddenly, I saw something very horrible and potentially very destructive. And also improbable.
You’ve watched too many soap operas. Stars do not align this way in real life.Only this wouldn’t be a case of stars aligning. More like a supernova full of explosions and multiple casualties.
“Well?” Riggs grumbled in frustration, no doubt eager to help Charlie without my watchful eye.
“Right. I’m leaving.”
I closed the door to my flat behind me and plastered my back against it, panting.
Reeling from my new discovery.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
RIGGS
Knocking down Charlie’s door was the easy part. I didn’t even need momentum for it. A front kick did the trick,andI got to feel like Kyo the Enforcer. Figuring out what had made him all confused and try to unlockourdoor and piss his pants was the impossible part.
“Hey, Charles, did you have a little drink today?” I asked, strolling into his minuscule apartment, assisting him by the elbow.
He shook his head. “No. Not in the last few days.” Ah, fuck. It would have been great if he was just a sloppy drunk.
“Let me grab you some water and Advil. Be right back.” I sat him on his couch.
His place was actually decent, in a Manhattan shithole standards kind of way. Lots of interesting geography and history books, cool art, shit he’d obviously collected from around the world. The sort of place I would have had, had I not been allergic to routine.
“Sure ... ah, thanks.” Charlie sat on his couch and stared at his hands, elbows propped on his knees.
I stalked to his bathroom, straight to the medicine cabinet. This wasn’t about getting him a painkiller. It was about digging through his crap and figuring out what kind of pills he was taking. Maybe he’d skipped a few, and that’s what had caused this episode.
