After a long while, he rolled off her and tucked her in the crook of his arm. The gentle breeze cooled their bodies, and joy coursed through her. After a few minutes, she heard him snoring, and she smiled as she clung to him and watched the ripples in the lake.
Most perfect day ever.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Susan O’Brien rubbedher eyes and swiveled her office chair to face the window. The street was quiet and most of the windows from the apartment complexes were dark. She glanced at the clock, surprised she’d worked past midnight. Yawning and stretching her tired limbs, she leaned back and closed her eyes. Part of her was too tired to get up and go home, and another part of her wanted to get away from her office and forget the paperwork that kept piling up on her desk daily. Grasping the arms of the chair, she pushed herself up and grabbed for the corner of the desk, steadying herself. Sitting for hours had made her joint stiffen up, and having a few drinks made standing a bit challenging.
She gathered the paperwork she knew she wouldn’t look at and placed it in her briefcase, along with the nearly empty bottle of vodka. After switching off the desk lamp and overhead fluorescent lights, she left the room.
The corridors were quiet and dim, with only a small amount of light around the baseboards illuminating the floor. The residents were asleep in their rooms, and she soundlessly walked down the hall to the door leading to the basement. An unopened bottle of vodka in her locker had been on her mind for the past two hours; it would make excellent company for her when she arrived at her empty townhouse.
When she passed Gus Halpern’s room, something moved in the dark. Fear seized her as she thought Gus was trying to get out of bed. Whipping around, she rushed to the doorway. The room was so dark, it took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to it, but when they did, she saw a figure standing over Gus.
“I’m glad you came over, Vera,” Gus said hoarsely. The figure didn’t answer. “Ow! That hurt. Why did you do it, Vera? Where’s my mother?” Gus began to cry softly.
Susan’s heart broke when she heard the patient’s tears. Gus suffered from vascular dementia, and he obviously thought the person was someone from his past.
“Gus?” she said in a low voice as she walked into the room. Then she saw the figure pulling a needle from his arm. No injections were ordered for Gus. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t on any medication at all. The eighty-two-year-old was healthier than a lot of men half his age, which made his dementia that much more tragic. “What are you doing?” she asked as she approached the bed.
The figure stiffened and turned around. Stopping mid-stride, Susan’s mind raced as she tried to figure out what was going on. “I thought you requested tonight off. What were you injecting into Gus?” She froze as the realization of what was happening hit her full force like a tidal wave. “You? You’ve been responsible for these deaths? It can’t be.”
Without a word, the figure rushed over to her. Something hard hit her head before she could yell out, dazing her, and she stumbled while red spots danced in front of her eyes. Before she could get her bearings, she was being half dragged to the locked door that led to the basement where her vodka bottle awaited her.I could really use a drink. My head is pounding. What’s going on? Why did—
Then a rough shove had her arms flailing to grab onto the bannister, but she couldn’t. Her feet were slipping off the concrete steps, trying desperately to steady themselves. The crash of the bottle in her briefcase sounded like a bomb in the stairwell as her briefcase flew out of her hand and slammed down on the landing. In less than a second, she followed it, her head meeting the floor. The crunch of bones in her skull deafened her before everything went black. From above, she heard the steel door shut, and she knew her mangled body wouldn’t survive the fall. After all the years of poverty, adjustment to a new country, and hard work in her career, she’d end up dying on a cold floor that smelled like bleach. If her breathing weren’t so ragged, she would’ve laughed at the irony of it all.
What a bloody silly way to die.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“You’re going toa lot of trouble with this chick,” Paco said.
“Do I have use of the prospects or not?” Goldie replied, ignoring Paco’s comment.
“Steel and I are wondering how we can justify taking the prospects away to do personal stuff for a brother who has a hard-on for his best friend’s sister.”
“I’m just gonna tell you this one time, dude. I don’t give a shit that you’re the VP of the club. If you say that shit to me again, I’m gonna smash your goddamn face.”
“Then we’d have a bloody mess after I kick your ass.” Paco’s arms flexed when he crossed them over his chest.
“If the club doesn’t want to help me out with this, fine. I can figure it out. I was just asking because it didn’t seem to be a problem when Muerto and Diablo asked for their women. Just fuckin’ forget about it.” He pushed away from the bar.
“He’s messing with you,” Steel said as he walked over.
“You sick fuck,” Goldie said.
Paco laughed and handed him a shot of tequila. “You were the one always giving Muerto and Diablo shit about their women, so I thought I’d take over your spot.”
A half smile curled Goldie’s lips as he shook his head. “So I can use Ruger and Patches if I need to? I’m gonna be doing it most of the time. I just want to make sure she’s safe until they catch this fuckin’ perv.”
“Since Wexler can’t find his ass with both hands, I’d say you’re gonna be watching your woman for a long time,” Paco replied.
“I heard a detective from Durango’s manning the case,” Army said as he came over.
“Who’re you fucking this time at the sheriff’s office?” Steel asked.
“A hot redhead. She just loves telling me everything going on after I fuck her good.” Army laughed and picked up his beer.
“What do they know about this bastard?” Goldie said.
