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Before I can even open my eyes, Iknowthat I have a really bad headache.
On the bright side, I don’t seem to be tied to a chair. Or on a cold concrete floor of a cell. Or in any other kind of poor condition.
In fact, it feels like I’m on someone’s sofa, with the way a cushioned back brushes my hip.
I can only hope the Lost Boys somehow magically showed up, punched Deacon Roger all the way to hell, and that his lady friend went scampering home with her tail between her legs.
My eyes crack open slowly, pain lancing through my skull, and I find myself staring up at an unfamiliar light in an unfamiliar room.
And with no Lost Boy in sight or within hearing range, it’s starting to feel like maybe I’m in a bad situation after all.
Suddenly a face does loom over me, and I see the concerned-looking expression on the woman’s face morph into something like relief. “I’m sorry,” she says, pulling me slowly into a sitting position and helping me to sit against the back of the sofa. “I didn’t want to do that, but you weren’t leaving me much of a choice. And with how youjumpedout of Dave’s car last week, I was afraid you’d wake up and hurt yourself.” She shows me a packet of Aspirin that she rips open and brings the pills to my lips. With the help of the glass of water in her other hand, I swallow them and look at her with baleful eyes.
“How do you feel?” she asks, frowning as if she’s dreading the answer. At the same time, she shows me my phone, which is off, and slides it into the pocket of my hoodie for me, as if she somehow really cares that I’ve been without it for the time I’ve been unconscious.
“Fuck. You,” I say slowly, just to make sure it’s as clearly pronounced as I can make it. I don’t want her misunderstanding, after all. Though I am glad that my headache is dying down, just a little bit, so I don’t feel like my eyes are about to pop out of my skull from the pressure.
She sighs but doesn’t exactly looksurprisedat my words. “I wish you’d understand,” the woman says. “I’m Christie, by the way. In case you’re looking for something to call me when you curse me out.” She offers me a wan smile that I don’t return, and I instead let out a long huff through my nose. “We’re trying to help you.”
“Wow, you have a really funny way of showing it.” Longer strings of words are harder to put together without slurring, but I manage.
“We’re not trying to hurt you. We want to save you from the people thatwillhurt you.”
“Yeah, so I’m going to be honest here,Christie. The Lost Boys have never, ever, slammed my face into a door so hard it cracked to give me a fucking concussion.” My voice rises as I say it, and when she reaches out to touch my shoulder, I slap her hand away. “Don’t touch me! How dare you touch me after what you did, lady?”
Did Cyril get my text? Or most of it, anyway. I’m pretty sure I never got to send the ‘p’ which sucks, but I’m hoping he’s smart enough to figure out what HEL was going to stand for just moments after I said I needed to talk to him.Especiallysince I never got to finish what I was saying.
God, I hope they know something’s wrong. I don’t want todieon some weirdly upholstered couch, sitting next to a woman who could bash my skull in namedChristie.
“I’m sorry,” she says again. “Can you get up, though? We’re not trying tokeepyou here, I promise. But Declan wants to talk to you before we let you go.”
Let me go? Did I hear that right? My eyes narrow, then I look around at the room once more. It’s a verynicesitting room, complete with a fireplace, and I wonder where in the city I am.
“You’re…letting me go?” I say, wondering if I heard her wrong.
“I told you, Ari. We’re not the bad guys here.”
“You look pretty fucking awful from where I’m sitting. And I have the concussion to prove it.”
She doesn’t deny that but helps me to my feet and out the door, down a hallway, and finally pulls me into an office that lookswaytoo nice to not be out of some mafia lord’s house.
Complete with the bearded, older man sitting at the desk who reminds me too much of Deacon Roger for this to be a coincidence. He glances up as Christie drags me inside and motions to the chair in front of him like I’m going to go anywherebutthere.
“I’m glad to see you’re up. Christie was rather rough with you, wasn’t she?” he chuckles like my concussion is some kind of fucking joke, but all I can do is stare at him like he’s lost his mind. “I figured you want to go home right about now, yes? It’s only been a few hours since we brought you here, so it’s going to be night soon.” He looks out his window as if to check his own words, and I glance out of it too, just to see that the cloudy skyisstarting to darken.
A clock on his desk says eight-o-four, and I focus on the numbers for a minute until they stop going in and out of focus.
“Seems a little anticlimactic to justlet me go,” I admit, swallowing a few times before I speak. My head still pounds, and I feel like my brain has been knocking around in my skull like a ping pong ball.
“We were never going to hurt you,” Declan points out. “Well, it was never our intention to do so. And Cyril having hisboyskill Dave was an overreaction, I might add.” He frowns, like the loss ofDaveis simply a momentary frustration. Not something that causes him to lose sleep at night.
“Wonderful.” I stare at him, unsure of what else to say. “Why do you hate Cyril so much, anyway?” I say finally, unable to help myself. “Does he evenknowyou?”
Declan’s smile widens, though it’s not a friendly look, and he rests both his hands on the desk. “Cyril has taken a very…opposing stance to my company. As has his uncle,” he informs me. “They do business in a way that most people would disapprove of. I wanted in, but both of them decided that I wasn’tgoodenough for their little venture of fixing up Solen City.” He moves his hand, fingers playing over his right ring finger…or where his ring fingershouldhave been. Instead, there’s just a long-healed stump that makes me stare.
“Cyril cut off my finger and dropped me in a lake when I…persisted. So here I am, to remind him that since he didn’t kill me, I’m holding a grudge.” His smile turns bleak, and I tear my eyes away from his missing finger to look into his blue eyes that are the same color as Deacon’s. “I just needed you to help me get to them.”
“Which I won’t do,” I remind him, feeling suddenly very brave. It’s a new look for me, I’m sure, and I’m not sure how long I’ll last.
