Page 31 of Property of Bob

“When later?” I insisted.

“When you’re out of here.”

“No.”

She smiled. “No?”

“No.”

“You’re cute when you’re helpless.”

My eyes narrowed. “Take that back.”

“Can’t.”

“I am not helpless.”

“You just threw a cup four feet.”

“That was a bad throw.”

“That was adorable.”

“Get out.”

She laughed. A real laugh.

For a second, I forgot about my throat. The wheelchair. Bernice. The club. All of it.

Ramona was standing beside my bed laughing at me. I hadn’t known I’d missed that.

“You’re still an asshole,” she said.

“You here to see this asshole.”

Her smile faded just a little. “Yeah.”

I watched her. “Why me?”

There it was. The question underneath all the others. Why Skull Island? Why now? Why me?

She looked toward the door. For a second, I thought she wasn’t going to answer. Then she looked back at me. “Because I knew you’d help.”

I nodded once. “You were right.”

Her eyes stayed on mine. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I didn’t know what kind of trouble she’d brought with her. Didn’t know who her boss was. Didn’t know why she’d quit. Didn’t know why she’d been looking over her shoulder long enough to finally decide she needed somewhere to hide.

But none of that mattered. Not yet.

Ramona had come looking for me, twenty years after the last time I’d seen her, she’d needed help and somehow decided I was still the man she could come to.

I wasn’t letting her down. Even if I had to do it from a fucking wheelchair.

Chapter Three

Ramona