Page 5 of Venomous as a Snake

I lean against the kitchen counter, drawing my hand away from the plate of left-over cookies as they trail into the kitchen.

Tall and Tan drops the empty bowl on top of a box on my island and tips his head. “The cookies were great. Thanks.”

“It’s no problem.” I wave my hand, grinning in triumph. “I should be thanking you for the favor. That dresser is a bitch to pick up.”

Short Stuff turns to look at the offending white furniture, then he smirks. “We can move it. Just show us where we’re going.”

I nod for them to accompany me as I slowly count on my fingers. A usual dose of the forget-me-pills takes about twenty minutes to kick in and right around thirty to make the user dizzy. I made two dozen cookies with two dozen pills, and they ate more than half of the batch.

Either they just overdosed and they’re going to die in my house… Or they just overdosed, and they’re going to die on their way to Clay.

The answer is the latter.

I pull my phone from my back packet, sending a text to Drew.

Me: Send a pickup.

Drew: For my cookies?

Me: You can’t eat these.

I fucked up the math.

I’ll have to make more.

Drew: Ohhhh. You offed them?

Me: Still up for debate.

Drew: Ali will be there in twenty.

I tuck my phone back in my pocket as I point to a spot where I don’t want my dresser to sit.

“Mmmm. That’s not right, is it?” I muse. “Maybe over there?”

As they maneuver the heavy set of drawers, Tall and Tan stops. “This is going to hit the window. Are you sure you want it here?”

“Not really,” I confess softly. “Where do you think I should put it?”

He sways unsteadily as he stares at me, unseeing. “What?”

“If this was yours, where would you put it?”

Short Stuff coughs and stumbles, dropping his side of the dresser. “Uhm. I’m not—We’re not—”

Tall and Tan runs his fingers along the collar of his shirt. The motion tells me they ate those cookies on an empty stomach, and they threw my guesses for reaction times out the window.

“Are you feeling okay?” I inquire.

He tips over, slamming his face onto my floor. I rush to him, rolling him before he can bleed on my new creamy carpet. The last thing I need is to add removing body fluids to my current list of projects.

“What—” Short Stuff begins as his legs give out. He sinks to the floor, sliding down the side of my dresser. “Did yooou gibus?”

I lean over him, tipping his head so I can see his glossy eyes. “One day soon, Clay is going to learn that pissing off a king cobra is fucking stupid. Sorry you and your buddy had to be collateral. He thinks this is a lover’s spat, but you know what?”

I wait for a reply, though they’re both basically unconscious now. I let go of his chin, watching his head fall forward.

“He’s backing me into a corner, and he won’t like it when I finally strike at him. I’m done with him following my every step.”