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He barely glances. “N-no. No fan.”
I lean forward—strategically—and plead, “Please.”
Takes him a second, but he finally tears his gaze away from my shirt and skirts a glance at the switch, which is a wee bit farther than I implied. Around the corner of the hall, actually. He’ll have to get up to reach, and when he does—
“No.” His messy hair undulates as he waves his head from side to side. “No.”
Well, rats. Guess I’m put in my place. Worse, I think he’s starting to drool, kind of making me regret my harebrained plan. I’ve probably watched too much TV.
I sniff back another sneeze, but the burning tickle won’t hold off much longer. Of all times to be sick. I don’t need one tissue; I need a whole box.
Hey…
The next sneeze builds, and I do nothing to stop the crescendo. Sometimes, thinking about a sneeze kills it, but nothing’s stopping this baby. I do make a weak attempt at covering it with my hand, but, like I said, I’m a human fountain when I’m sick.
So much for sexy, although…
Wow. I think I’ve had the good fortune of killing two birds with one stone. Bedhead recoils, nose wrinkled like an accordion.Men. Blood and guts? No problem. But a little snot and they fold like cheap suits.
I reach for my purse with my free hand.
“Hey, stop that! What are you doing?” He’s waving the gun like a crazy person. He might actually be one.
“What do you think I’m doing? I have tissues in my purse.” I pause and make him meet my eyes over my hand, hopefully making him feel like an idiot. “What? You think I have a gun or something?” Oh, I’m just getting cocky now.
The moment freezes time. This is it…
I pull my hand a little further from my face, and, well, let’s just say, I truly do need those tissues.
His nose shrivels like someone burped in his face. On second thought, I’m certain he’d laugh at that. “Fine. Just…” He flaps his free hand at me while he drops the one with the gun down by his side. “Hurry.”
If you say so, buddy.
Funny, when Maddie brought me my purse at the hospital and I realized my gun was inside, I was kind of freaked, figuring I was in a gun-free zone and all, but now, I’m happy as can be that it came along for the ride.
I make a production of digging for tissues, sighing dramatically as if I can’t find one, and then…boom. In one fell swoop, I free the gun, pull back the hammer and level the barrel right at Mr. Crazy. Ready, aim…Father, please don’t make me have to fire!
“Hey, you tricked me!”
“Well, you weren’t playing nice, so I didn’t think I should have to.” The attitude startles me—and the truth is, I finally am shaking like a leaf. “Now…drop it…or die.”
This guy, this kid, is not a hardened criminal. He sets his gun on the carpet, then kicks it away at my direction. Avery swoops in and removes it from his reach as if it were a bomb about to detonate. Yep, Tripp mentioned she wasn’t exactly taking to their couples shooting lessons.
Poor Avery is white as a ghost when she asks, “What do we do with him now?”
“Umm…” Yeah, my plan didn’t include a step-two, and frankly, my arm is starting to feel like pudding. Between viruses and fear conspiring against me, I don’t know how much longer I can play make-believe hero.
“Wait! I know!”
She darts around me to the hall closet and pulls out a briefcase. Tripp’s, I assume, when she extracts a pair of handcuffs and holds them high. “Perfect!”
“Indeed,” a deep voice resounds from behind us. “I can put those to good use.”
CHAPTER 39
Annalise
So. It just got real up in this house.
