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Fletcher chokes out a soft laugh and watches Rory as she shuffles closer to me. But he doesn’t touch her. He doesn’t try to grab her when she sways and almost loses her footing. She reaches for me out of habit. Comfort. And the cops at her back narrow their eyes when I take her hands and steady her.
“The fact you got experience is good,” Fletcher murmurs, curious as I help her turn. “Next time, you’ll do even better.” Then he looks down at his wrist and checks the time on his watch. “Looks like burger-o’clock to me, huh?” He drops his hand and smiles at us. “Too bad you’re a protected species right now, Rory. The bar does a mean grilled patty and fries.”
“We’ll get drive-thru.” I grip her arm and start toward the door. “Follow the autopsy down the line and see what you pull,” I order them, though we all know I don’t have the authority to give orders. “Find the medical examiner who signed off on his body, then work it from there.” Stopping at the heavy glass door, I yank it open and let Rory through, but I glance back at our crowd and look each one of them up and down. “I want to know what’s happening. Don’t leave me out at the house, trying to keep your witness alive, and wearing blinders.”
“I have a name,” Rory grumbles, waiting as I follow her through the door and toward the elevator. “A personality. A life outside of this identity ofwitnessI can’t seem to shed.”
“You have a target on your forehead,” I tell her, hitting the button for the elevator and stepping in when the doors open. “And a stubborn streak a mile wide. I need to retain objectivity to be able to keep you alive. So if I wanna call you ‘the witness’, then that’s what I’m gonna do.”
She considers my words for a moment, and waves for those who watch us as the doors shut. Then she looks up at me and smiles. “I guess I can understand it now. Having sex with someone makes it difficult to be objective.”
My stomach drops, just as quickly as my head. “Aurora…”
“So weird though,” she ponders. “I was so sure I felt yourpenison my back today.”
For fuck’s sake.
Drake
THE END IS NIGH.
Icross the Malone mafia mansion kitchen two days after our visit to the George Stanley facility, with a plate in each hand, and a pastrami sandwich slapped on top of each. I intend to walk them upstairs and deliver one to Rory for a late lunch, since she hasn’t been down for hours. But she bursts into the room anyway, scaring the shit out of me when the door flings wide and bounces off the wall.
“We need to go.” She’s getting faster on her feet. Or maybe, she’s just that determined today, because she crosses the kitchen in a handful of short strides and snatches the plates from my hands, tossing them onto the counter so they slide and come to a stop just inches before the sink. “It’s time to go.”
“Go where?” I grab a gun and wrap my witness up in my left arm, sweeping her behind my back as I search the room. “What’s the problem?”
“The hospital called.” She shakes my grip away and steps around until I’m caught in her red and swollen gaze. “They called, Drake!”
“They called about wh—” But of course, the answer comes to me. My heart shudders with pain for the girl whose mother is dying. Or maybe she’s already dead. Maybe we missed it, and Rory will never get to say goodbye. “Is she…” I swallow the dread in my throat and holster my gun. Then I grab her arms to keep her still. To keep her with me. “Is she gone?”
“No. But it’s time.” Big, fat tears escape her eyes and roll onto her cheeks. “Brenda called and said to go there right now. So let’s go.” She grabs my hand and pulls, growling when I don’t move. “Drake! We have to go to her. Now.”
“We can’t.” I bring her back and wrap her in my arms. It’s not a hug. It’s containment. Black and white, god’s honest truth, it’s restraint. “Rory, it takes manpower. And time. And planning.” I lock my arms when she realizes I’m a straightjacket andnotcomfort. But I rest my chin on her head and close my eyes.
I wish it could be different. I wish I could give her what she needs. “I can talk to Malone,” I murmur. “I could try to get a team together so we can head over there. But that takes time.”
“We don’t have time!” She squirms in my hold and jams her fists in my ribs. “Drake! We don’t have time.”
“We can’t just walk out these doors.” I crush her close before she does exactly that, taking off when it’s not safe and getting herself killed. “We can’t just go, Rory.”
“My mother is dying!” She slams her fist into my ribs again and knocks the breath from my lungs. “This is it!” She cries out in frustration, fighting me when I won’t let her go. “It’s time to go before it’s too late.”
“Babe.” I palm her cheeks and force her to still, lifting her gently to her toes so she has less traction on the floor to turn and run. “We can’t go there right now. They know who she is. They know where she is. They know she’s dying, and they know, when it’s time, you’re gonna come running.”
“Of course I’m gonna run to her!” Tears stream down her cheeks, wetting my palm as they wriggle into the miniscule space between our touch. “What do you expect me to do, Drake? Sit here and say, ‘fuck it?’ Let her die alone like she doesn’t matter?”
“What do you thinkshe’dwant?” I pull her higher until she’s on the tips of her toes. “Does she want you to sit with her in these final moments, or does she want you to be safe?” I shake her when she tries to peel my hands away. “Is she selfish like that, Aurora? Or do you think she’d choose your safety?”
“Why does it have to be one or the other?” she bawls. “Why does she have to die alone, just so I can live?”
“She doesn’t have to be alone.” I lean in and press a dry, close-mouthed kiss to the very middle of her lips, startling her when she’d rather argue. She inhales a deep breath, almost sucking air from the depths of my soul and breaking it along the way. Her sadness, an ache I’m not sure I can bear. “Give me time,” I plead. “Give me an hour to talk to Malone and figure something out.”
“I don’t have an hour,” she sobs. “I don’t have a minute. I’m not stupid, Drake. That phone call already means it’s probably too late.”
“Give me twenty minutes,” I beg. “I promise, I’m gonna make something happen for you. But you just have to be patient.”
“Fuck you!” She slams her hands to my chest, surprising me with her strength, and shoving me back, then she spins on her heels and stalks away. “You’re stalling for time,” she shouts, bursting through the door she came through on an angry step-shuffle I know hurts her leg. “You knew this was coming. You knew we were on the clock, and not once did you plan ahead?”
