“No fair,” Sara whined. “We wanted to wait until everyone came back from the scavenger hunt.”
“You should’ve thought of that before you broke the rules and came outside alone,” Anne said, walking up behind me. “You heard Aunt Kelsey,” she said, steering them by the shoulders toward the parking lot. “Both of you, let’s go.”
Nicholas reached for Sara’s hand, pulling her with him as he whistled for Storm to follow. Storm barked once, then took off ahead of them.
Anne and Nightcrawler followed close behind them.
I wasn’t surprised to see Katie, Jerry, and several of the less familiar guards standing around, waiting and watching. An audience wasn’t going to stop me, though.
I turned as if to walk away and threw a sidekick into Sebrina’s lower ribcage. The force of my kick, fueled with rage, tossed her on her ass about five feet back. I slid a switchblade from my boot and hit the release, walking toward her.
“That’s enough!” Donovan yelled, jogging toward me.
I ignored him, leaning over Sebrina, my blade ready if needed. “That was for approaching my kids. You go near them again, and I’ll carve that pretty little face of yours to bits.” I spit at her, stepped back, and closed my blade. As I slid the blade into my boot, Sebrina kicked out, hitting me in the shoulder. The impact knocked me back a few steps, giving her time to stand.
“Now we’re talking,” I said, grinning as we circled each other.
“Sebrina,” Donovan said, now standing at the perimeter of our fight ring. “You don’t want to fight Kelsey.”
“I’m not afraid of this mousy little bitch,” Sebrina hissed before she struck out with a right punch.
I easily deflected her arm to the outside, landed my own right to her jaw, a left fist to her abs, and then pulled her head down to meet my upward knee. She stumbled before her legs folded underneath her, dropping her to the ground as she sagged forward onto her hands. Game over. “I’m a lot of things, but there’s nothing mousy about me.” I left her there and turned toward the parking lot.
Katie walked up beside me. “I’m heading to the store to help out. You need anything before I go?”
I loved how Katie was immune to me assaulting someone. “I’m all set until the rope pulling contest.”
We rounded the corner of the building, into the parking lot, and stopped abruptly. Grady and Bones were struggling as they tried to hold chickens. Live chickens. As they grasped their clawed feet with one hand, they used their other arm to protect their faces as the chickens wildly flapped their wings and tried to peck them. Feathers floated everywhere.
“I’m so glad that’s not us,” Katie said, laughing and getting out her phone and recording them.
“Damn things,” Donovan muttered as he walked up beside me. “How do you control them?”
“I have no idea.”
“How’d you get yours back then?”
I started toward the front doors, calling over my shoulder, “A grocery sack.”
Katie had turned her phone for a close-up of Donovan’s face when the light bulb came on. I smiled and opened the door to go inside.
“You’re kidding me?!” Donovan yelled. “Do you know how long it’s going to take us to clean the inside of the rental van?”
“Not my problem!” I yelled as the door closed behind me.
I was still smiling as I climbed the stairs to the war room to retrieve my phone, the burner phone, and my shoulder bag. I was picturing how much madder Donovan was going to be when he heard Team Kelsey beat him by almost an hour. After grabbing my stuff, I was walking down the stairs when Bones and Grady ran into the gym, still holding their chickens away from them, to get to the check-in table before Maggie, who was running with a grocery bag, a very large patio umbrella, and a stuffed pink flamingo toy. Bones made it to the table first, but not before all hell broke loose. Grady’s chicken managed to free himself, and in an effort to make a fast escape, took off running toward Maggie. Tripping over the chicken, Maggie went down, and a frozen chicken slid out of her grocery bag, skating across the floor like a bowling ball into Grady who went down, face first. The room erupted in laughter.
I shook my head, walking toward the front exit.
Looking around the parking lot, I didn’t see my SUV. Likely it was used to take the kids back to the house. I flipped my handbag strap over my head and tucked the bag under one arm as I walked toward the road. As I passed between a row of the rental vans, a side door opened and a man lunged toward me with a knife.
Startled, I jumped back—but not fast enough. The knife sliced my skin, setting fire to my nerves just below my ribs. Spinning to the side, I kicked out, bouncing my attacker into the side of the van. Before he had time to go on offense, I grabbed his wrist, twisting it inward as I threw my weight forward, pushing the knife into his chest.
We stood face to face as he realized he’d been stabbed.
“Where’s Santiago?” I asked him.
He staggered to the side. “Fuck you.”
I maneuvered his slack body toward the interior of the van before he fell. When he took his last breath, his upper body was sprawled on the van floor between a row of seats. His legs hung out at an odd angle.
I gripped my side, looking down at my shirt. It was soaked with blood. I pulled up the edge of my shirt to inspect the wound. The cut was long, but less than a half-inch deep. I’d need stitches, but thanks to a healthy layer of body fat and muscle, I wouldn’t need surgery.
“Fucker,” I whispered. I leaned over, whimpering slightly at the pain, as I picked up the man’s legs, rolling them and tucked them inside the van. I stood for a moment, recounting my actions and staring at the knife, still lodged in the man’s chest. I’d grabbed his wrist, not the knife, then forced my body weight against his own arm. My prints wouldn’t be on the knife, but my DNA would be on the body. Being it was the same guy who was caught on video attacking me at the pharmacy the day before, I could explain the DNA away. I nodded to myself, sliding the side door closed with a loud slam.
“Kelsey?” Bones called from the front entrance of Headquarters, halfway across the parking lot.
I moved my handbag to cover up the blood stain on my shirt before stepping away from the van to yell back. “Yeah?”
“Do you need a ride to the house? I’m heading that way.”
“I’m good. I’m going to take this van. I might need it later.”
Bones nodded and left in the other direction.
I walked around the van and climbed behind the wheel, turning the keys in the ignition. “A normal person would call the cops,” I said to myself as I pulled my phone and called Wild Card.
“Hey,” Wild Card answered.
“Can you grab my medical kit and meet me at Alex’s house without being seen?”
“Doc’s here checking on Hattie. Should I bring him?”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Doc tends to overreact.”
“How hurt are you?”
“Just a scratch.”
Wild Card snorted. “I’ve heard that story before.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Either throw some damn stitches in it, or I’ll do it myself!” I yelled, interrupting Doc and Wild Card from their argument of whether I should go to the hospital.
Wild Card grabbed the suture needle and thread, loading the needle.
“Don’t even think about it,” Doc said, pushing Wild Card out of the way. “The wound needs to be cleaned first.” Doc sanitized my side with a saline solution and added an antibacterial cream, before taking the needle and thread. “This is going to hurt.”
“She can handle it,” Wild Card said, crossing his arms over his chest and focusing on me. “What happened?”
“The same asshole who was at the pharmacy hid in one of the rental vans and jumped me when I walked by.”
“At Headquarters? In front of everyone?”
I hissed between my teeth as Doc pulled a long length of thread through
my skin. “We were between the vans. No one saw us.”
Wild Card used his index finger and thumb to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Do you know what direction the guy ran?”
“I know where he is. It’s under control.”
He released a long breath, relaxing his shoulders.
The front door of Alex’s house opened and Bridget walked inside. “Why are you lying on Alex’s kitchen floor, bleeding?”
I hissed again at the pain. “I figured it would be easier to clean the blood off the vinyl floor.”
“That looks painful,” Bridget said, leaning over to watch Doc. “What happened?”
“I’ll explain later. Keep the family distracted until I get myself straightened out.”
“I was just going to grab a sweatshirt,” Bridget said as she walked toward the hallway. “I’ll grab you one, too.” She returned a minute later and tossed a spare sweatshirt to Wild Card. “You going to keep an eye on her?” Bridget asked him.
“I’ll babysit Kelsey if you watch the kids,” Wild Card said, nodding.
She walked toward the door. “A group of us are taking the kids into the field to play with Storm. Give us five minutes, and the house will be clear.”
Doc clipped the excess thread as the door closed behind Bridget. “That should do it. Should I even bother to give you care instructions?”
“Waste of time,” Wild Card said, leaning over and helping me up. “She already knows them, and we both know she’s not likely to follow them.”
As Wild Card grabbed some paper towels to clean the floor, I threw my shirt in the trash and grabbed a package of bandages from my med kit. I used a wet paper towel to wipe off the worst of the blood on my side and hip, before loosely taping a bandage over the wound to prevent staining the next outfit. Doc helped me put on Bridget’s zip-up sweatshirt.
“Now what?” Wild Card asked, throwing the bloody paper towels he’d used into the trash and pulling the trash bag.
I ignored his question and turned to Doc. “Thanks for the house call. I’ll send a check next week to the clinic.”
Doc waved a hand dismissively as he walked toward the door. “Donations are welcome, but we’re doing fine these days thanks to your support.”
I looked over at Wild Card. “I need to grab some clothes for later. Can you pull the van into the garage and lock the garage down?”
“You sure? I can make the van disappear.”
“No. I might need the van and its cargo.” I walked down the hall.
It was obvious when I opened the door to the spare bedroom that Bridget was staying in this room. Her clothes were scattered on every piece of furniture in piles. When I walked across the room to the closet, it made more sense. Packed full of designer fashion labels, the closet didn’t have an inch of space to spare. Alex had always squirreled away clothes for me, but I would’ve never guessed he’d become this obsessed with it. From ballgowns to sundresses to business suits, there was an outfit for every occasion. I had to dig around for a good five minutes before I found a navy suit and white blouse. I started to bend to find shoes, but I winced when my stitches tugged tight.
“Don’t be a fool,” Wild Card said, pulling me gently away from the closet. “What am I looking for?”
“Navy high heels.”
Wild Card flipped the lid off several shoe boxes before he held up a pair of shoes.
I shook my head. “Those are royal blue, not navy.” I pointed to another box at the end. “What’s in the Valentino box?”
Wild Card lifted the navy and white shoes out of the box, holding them up for me to see.
“Purdy,” I drawled as I took the shoes.
“I don’t get why women wear heels. Looks painful to me.”
The thought of how much Grady would enjoy me in the heels—without a stitch of clothing—crossed my mind. I turned toward the door as my cheeks pinked. “Let’s go.”
“Where?” Wild Card asked as he followed.
“I’m hungry. Let’s see if anyone made lunch,” I answered, walking toward the front door.
“And just leave the van and the dead guy?”
“Yup.”
“What on earth are you scheming?”
“Still working out the details,” I said as I pointed to my head.
~*~*~
Wild Card took the bag of trash to the burn barrel, while I went to the house. I used my keys to unlock the atrium side door. Abigail’s nanny was peeking around the corner to see who was entering my bedroom, while holding Abigail.
“It’s good to be cautious, but next time if you’re not sure who’s entering, take Abby and run.”
“I thought it was you, but with the sweatshirt’s hood up, I couldn’t be sure.”
“It’s fine. I should’ve used the front door, but I keep forgetting you guys are in here.” I threw the clothes on my bed before reaching over and tickling Abigail’s feet. She squealed and drooled, kicking her chubby little legs.
“Will you take her for a minute while I use the restroom?” the nanny asked, holding Abigail out for me.
“No way,” I said, taking a step back. “Last time I held her, she puked on me.”
“I haven’t fed her yet. You’ll be fine,” the nanny said before forcing Abigail into my arms and turning toward the door.
Holding Abby out away from me pulled at my stitches. I moved her to my good side, carrying her on my hip. I walked into the nursery. “I heard you’re crawling these days, but I don’t believe it,” I whispered to her as I sat on the carpet. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
I laid her on her belly and scooched away. Abigail fussed a bit but got her arms under her and started rocking her body back and forth as she watched me.
“That’s it. Build your momentum,” I said as I held my hands out and wiggled my fingers. “Now come here.”
She launched forward a little too fast, landing on her face. Without crying out, she lifted herself again and moved an arm forward, then the other. Her legs weren’t as fast as her arms, but eventually she reached me and I lifted her up, holding her in a standing position as she squealed and bounced her legs underneath her.
“That was good stuff, Miss Abby. We just need to strengthen those legs. Maybe register you for a kick boxing class.” I moved her back and only partially held her weight, letting her test her legs and practice standing.
“Better not let Lisa see you,” the nanny said as she entered and sat on the couch. “She insists babies don’t walk or crawl at this age.”
I scooched back again, still holding Abigail but increasing the distance between us. She squealed, stepping forward before teetering sideways. I kept her upright, and she watched me intently as she placed her fist halfway into her mouth and covering it with drool.
“I’ll take care of Lisa,” I said, looking at the nanny. “In the future, if you think there’s an issue that would negatively impact Abby’s developmental years, let me know. I’m a pro at manipulating Lisa.”
The nanny laughed. “I’ll be sure to do that.”
I sat Abigail down and moved to the side to roll myself onto all fours to stand. My side pinched a bit, but it wasn’t too bad. “I need to go hunt down some food. You need anything?”
“We’re all set. Thank you.”
Abigail saw I was leaving and started to cry. I hurried toward the door.
Entering the dining room, Hattie greeted me with a plate of food. “You read my mind, but you should be resting.”
Pops chuckled from the breakfast bar where he sat reading a newspaper.
“Nonsense. I’ve been resting all morning, sunshine,” Hattie said. “Is Wild Card coming back? He hasn’t eaten yet either.”
“He’ll be here any minute.”
“He’s here,” Wild Card said, closing the front door. He hung my handbag from the hook by the garage door. “I was distracted by Abigail’s aunt teaching her to walk.”
“I always knew you were a rat,” I said, giggling.
I took a
bite of my ham and cheese sandwich. Wild Card washed his hands at the kitchen sink while Hattie prepared a plate for him.
“Are you going to explain why Wild Card took Doc with him to Alex’s house to see you,” Hattie asked as she set a plate on the table for Wild Card.
“You hurt?” Pops asked, lowering his newspaper.
“Just a scratch,” I said, shaking my head.
“What kind of scratch?” Pops asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at Wild Card.
“The kind that needed stitches,” Wild Card answered as he joined me at the table. “We need to keep it quiet, though, for some reason.”
“Is she safe?” Pops asked Wild Card.
“I’m sitting right here. You can ask me.”
Wild Card chuckled as he answered Pops. “She took down the bad guy, but that’s also a secret for some reason.”
“Good enough,” Pops said, lifting his paper back in front of him.
“You’re not curious as to why she’s keeping it a secret?” Wild Card asked.
“Would be a waste of mental energy,” Pops said behind his paper. “She’s always got something cooking in that brain of hers. Whatever it is, it will work. That’s all I need to know.”
I took another big bite of my sandwich before setting it down and walking over to pull my phone from my handbag. I texted Jackson and walked back to the table. Before I took another bite, Jackson replied. I grinned to myself as I chewed and texted Charlie. It took a few more bites of my sandwich before her reply came through. I nodded to myself and texted Donovan. By the time I finished my sandwich, Donovan walked through the front door with Jackson.
“Aren’t you worried someone will see him here?” Donovan asked, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at Jackson as he stole some chips from my plate.
“Not really. You can tell anyone who asks that you needed help to prepare for the rope pulling contest.”
“There’s not much work involved in a rope pulling contest.”
“Whatever. Make up an excuse.”
“What do you need?” Jackson asked, stealing a chip from Wild Card’s plate.
“First,” I said, turning to Donovan. “Charlie will be here soon. According to the rules, substitutes are allowed for the rope pulling contest as long as they are comparable in size. Do you agree Charlie’s my approximate height and weight?”
Hearts and Aces (Kelsey's Burden Series Book 7) Page 32