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Wait.
Pow!
Right to the heart.
Argh!
“I’m not loving this kissing date we have for later when you’re right fucking here,” I groused.
“It’s better to wait. Promise.”
“I hope so, for your sake,” I muttered.
He grinned at me and the promise in his eyes made me shiver again.
“Okay, changing the subject…” I began, starting to reach toward my Kindle to show him the picture I found, but stopping dead when we both heard a spine-chilling scream.
And if I wasn’t wrong, it was coming from Lou’s room.
Before I could blink, Ian was up, bent to me, finger in my face, growling, “Don’t leave this room.”
And then he sprinted toward the door.
Eighteen
THE POPPY ROOM
I wasn’t proud that when I popped off the lounge after Ian raced out, I froze.
This was because thoughts collided in my head as adrenalin rushed in my veins, and I couldn’t decide what to do.
That scream was close. It was horrible. Ian had rushed toward it. I wanted to know if Lou was all right. I wanted to know if Ian was all right. But I wondered if first, I should find a weapon or call the police.
My decision was made for me when I heard Ian roar, “Daphne!”
I dashed out and instinctively went right to the Poppy Room.
Lou’s door was open, and when I arrived, my chest caved in.
Rebecca was standing, face ashen and filled with fear, a phone to her ear, her eyes cast down to Ian, who was kneeling over Lou.
Lou.
She was in her robe and thrashing on the floor, only the whites of her eyes showing, the skin of her neck and jaw stretched thin in a grimace, the rest of her body uncontrollably convulsing.
It was hideous.
It looked painful.
I dropped instantly to my knees and reached out to her, but Ian barked, “No!”
In a panic, I looked to him.
“You could hurt yourself, you could hurt her,” he said curtly. “We just need to try to make sure she doesn’t run into anything. Does she have epilepsy?”
“No,” I forced out through a tight throat.
“Has this happened before?”
