Adelaide Upset

by Penny Greenhorn

  I perked up, jarred from my thoughts. I could swear I’d just heard my name. Then louder, “Adelaide!”

  Was that? I jumped off the counter, pushing the trashcan aside to stick my head around the door.

  Lucas was striding through the corridor, his wide-set shoulders disappearing down the hall. “Luke,” I called after him. “In here.” He doubled back, taking in the ‘women’s’ restroom sign before sliding through the open gap. “Have you just been wandering the club, yelling out my name?”

  “Yeah,” he shrugged. “What are you doing in here?”

  “Hiding I guess.”

  Lucas sort of circled the bathroom, pacing slowly by the stalls while I returned to my perch, hopping back up between two sinks.

  “It smells nice,” he finally said.

  “You sound surprised,” I replied, feeling happy. I was glad he’d taken the time to track me down. “What does the men’s bathroom smell like?”

  “Not flowers.” His voice was low, traveling thick through the room, echoing off tiles, and settling in my stomach. I shivered, shifting in response.

  At first I didn’t understand. I was always so aware of him, so attracted, that my reaction was not out of the ordinary. But watching him sort of prowl around the small space, waiting with me, unquestioning and patient... I just wanted to do him.

  I exhaled a breath. “Lucas,” I uttered softly.

  He turned, eyes pinning me in place. I pressed my thighs together. Luke was feeling it to, his restless energy and boiling look gave it away. He paused, watching me, and then strode forward.

  We were kissing. I fell back, my head pressed against the mirror, his hands pushing open my thighs, squeezing my hip, pulling me forward. My shirt was jerked up, my bra down. I scrambled with his belt, but paused when the fabric of his pants split open. He took my hand, pressing my fingers over him while expelling a harsh breath.

  “Oh shit!” someone screeched.

  I turned to the door, seeing it slam shut, the exiting back of a uniform telling me we’d just been caught by the staff. It jerked me back to reality. Here I was, touching my boyfriend, squeezing him really, my face pressed into his chest, my own chest completely exposed, and someone had seen it all.

  And that wasn’t even the worst of it.

  As the feelings ebbed away, the lust receding quickly, it occurred to me how unusual the whole thing had been. Sure, I wanted to do Lucas, but not... well not in a bathroom for one. It was like the desire had brought us together, and just after being caught, it was gone. But I felt a duplicitous satisfaction, an after-sex glow, totally out of character with the current situation. Which meant, much to my horror, that somewhere, somewhere close, two people had just finished having sex.

  I jerked my hand off Lucas, pulling myself free of him and the counter where I hurried to turn my back and button up. It all felt sort of dirty, how I’d mauled Lucas in a bathroom, riding along on someone else’s sexcapades. The back of my tongue felt sour like acid, shame making me flush and shake.

  “Adelaide?” Lucas asked, somehow feeling my unease.

  “It’s fine,” I lied.

  “I shouldn’t have.”

  “I’m not mad,” I hurried to assure, turning around to find him watching me close. I pressed my face to his neck, letting him touch and comfort me. I knew it wasn’t his fault. He was a man, and unfortunately, I was an empath.

  Chapter 21

  Believe it or not, being driven to molest Lucas in the bathroom wasn’t even the worst part of our date. That was still yet to come.

  Francesca intercepted us as we made our way up the winding staircase. “I don’t care what happened,” she said, hand on hip. “I’m not letting you leave.”

  I didn’t bother making an excuse; Francesca was familiar with the drill. Adelaide acts weird, followed by Adelaide doesn’t talk about it.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I said, trudging past her.

  She clicked up the stairs, keeping pace. “Oh come on,” she said. “It hasn’t been that bad. Conner’s nice, don’t you think?”

  “Nice isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement,” I replied. “But sure, he’s nice enough.”

  I could feel how much she wanted me to like him, that hopeful desire. “Name one bad thing about him,” Francesca challenged. “I bet you can’t, he’s been nothing but wonderful through the whole meal.” She glanced at Lucas. “Don’t you agree?”

  He shook his head mildly. “I could take him or leave him.”

  I laughed, only steeling my expression when Francesca got grim. “He’s got daddy issues,” I admitted.

  “What?” she said, thinking it was her turn to laugh.

  I was dead serious, but unsure how to explain my impressions. “He talks about his father a lot, and every time he’s trying to subtly form your opinion for you, trying to reel you into his way of thinking.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Francesca might act incredulous, but she was paying close attention. At some point or other I’d convinced her that my perceptions paid off.

  “I have a feeling he’s got some deep-seated anger,” I admitted. Not to mention he felt bitter and sorry. “Just pay attention and we’ll see how the wind blows.”

  Francesca was good with people, and careful, very careful. Now that I’d pointed out my theory, she would be watching. “Even if he does have daddy issues, so what?” We came to stand just outside the restaurant doors, pausing as she questioned me further.

  “Conner’s going to expect you to be on his side, it’s what he wants. He wants you to dislike his dad. But guess who holds the purse strings? And guess how fast they’ll shrink shut if dear old dad disapproves of your match?”

  Francesca brushed back her silky dark hair, face composed and lovely. Underneath all that she was a bit deflated, and I felt bad. I was supposed to be supporting her, not coloring in smudges on their relationship.

  To cheer her up I said, “He really does like you though.” And he did, maybe not deeply, but it was enough for now.

  “Of course he does,” Francesca said, confidence restored. She turned on her heel and waltzed back into the restaurant, with me and Lucas trailing after.

  Can you guess what the first topic Conner chose to talk about included? His father of course. Francesca refused to look at me and smoothly changed the subject, but he was always dragging it back, much to her secret chagrin.

  Things were winding down, our plates being cleared away and the checks paid, when the unexpected happened. Francesca’s head jerked a tiny bit, her eyes zeroing in on something just behind me. To her giveaway gesture I matched the emotions: an overall alarm, the mixture of surprise and distress, belied by fascination.

  I didn’t need to turn around. Raina Thompson’s emotions radiated the distance between us, her detachment bold, her contempt loud, and her loathing obvious. We could all burn and she would be the merrier for it.

  I heard Raina approach, saw Francesca gulp, looking for once in her life a little flustered. Without turning I said, “Did you enjoy your day at the spa? A honey and flour treatment I hear.” I spared a glance over my shoulder. “How odd, your skin doesn’t look any better. And what are those, bug bites?”

  In actuality Raina looked none the worse for wear, not a single blemish or bruise. The ice queen, ever impervious to harm. How I hated that smile. She was smirking down at me, mouth thin, eyes cool.

  “Yes, I have you to thank for that. Won’t you introduce me to your friends?”

  “No.”

  “There’s no need to get ugly,” she said, acting all prim. She was doing it, playing up the schoolteacher look, her outfit plain and professional. “I don’t hold you responsible,” she lied. “Neither does my employer.”

  “Lars Hurst can go straight to—”

  “I’m sure you didn’t hear,” Raina cut in. “I guess Reed doesn’t tell you much.”

  I had a sinking feeling, like I was about to lose the last word.

  “Well, he’s hi
red me on,” she said. “Reed Wallace, that is. It happened some weeks ago. In fact, our little encounter was his idea.”

  “You little asskiss,” I said quietly. “You don’t hold me responsible?” I couldn’t even work up a good laugh. “Well, I don’t feel the same. And I don’t care who you work for, Reed or not, because unlike you, I don’t answer to him. He can’t stop me, he doesn’t have that power, and trust me when I say, we’re not square, not by a long shot.” I gave her a hard look, stare for stare. “Hang around and I’ll make your life a misery.”

  She had the gall to laugh, not the least bit worried. I didn’t intend to hound her, not really. I was redirecting my anger from its true source, a one Reed Wallace. But she was wrong to discount me, a mistake that had already cost her. Raina was sure in her superiority, and it would be her continual downfall.

  “I can see why he doesn’t put much stock in you,” she said, one last parting gibe. “But that’s why I’m here, Reed’s asked me to stay and keep an eye out. And unlike you, I do answer to him.”

  She left, and I couldn’t say where. I didn’t watch, didn’t pay attention to who, if anyone, she’d come to meet. I was too angry. I was seeing red, and the remainder of her feelings only encouraged me.

  I blinked, trying to calm. Next to me, Lucas was carefully watching, seemingly more interested than he’d been throughout the whole meal. And Conner, his mouth was hanging open, no doubt shocked by my lack of manners.

  “Did she say Reed Wallace?” Francesca asked, unable to help herself.

  “We have to go,” I announced, pushing my chair back to stand. Lucas was with me, holding my hand. My perceptions were so cloudy just then, I couldn’t recall which of us had initiated the touch. As we moved away I heard Conner say, “I suppose you were right, my love, your friend Adelaide appears to be the most interesting person on the island.”

  * * *

  Unhooking the messenger bag from off my shoulder, I turned it over, spilling the contents across my bedspread. I sifted through, deciding what I would need. The book I’d leave at home, gum too for that matter. I’d only bring the essentials, wanting to travel light on my... well, mission, for lack of a better word. No, I wasn’t going to assassinate Reed Wallace, though the thought had crossed my mind.

  I’d seethed throughout the ride home. Raina working for Reed, it was only too easy to believe that he’d hired her. And getting her to jump ship from his rival, no doubt he considered it quite the coup. It was just like him. It didn’t matter that she’d caused me a great deal of grief, nope, didn’t matter at all, not as long as she could see auras, because in Reed’s book, a person was only as important as they were useful.

  To be fair, he was right not to trust me, I was keeping Demidov’s diary to myself, but to send Raina? To have her ransack my house for a second time, where did he get off? He deserved to be punished, but I didn’t see the point. I could call him, vent my anger. But to pose such a question I would’ve had to borrow Luke’s phone, and that wasn’t a conversation I wanted him to hear.

  He’d been silent on the ride home from our date, not unusual, but unnerving. After outright threatening Raina I fear I’d made myself transparent, cuing him into the fact that I had a lot going on beneath the surface. But he didn’t question me, not once. Not even when I had him drop me off at home, saying I’d meet him later to spend the night. Instead of being comforted by this privacy he granted me, I was bothered. Maybe the next step for us wasn’t sex, but shared secrets. Intimacy could be gained in more than one way, and I entertained thoughts of telling him everything. It was more or less a fantasy, but one I indulged as I finished getting ready.

  I changed into dark, sturdy clothes, preparing to switch my flip-flops for sneakers when Smith arrived. I didn’t know it then, but his sudden appearance distracted me, and I forgot to change my shoes. An oversight I would later be thankful for.

  At the time I was only concerned with keeping Smith in the dark (I knew he’d disapprove of my plan), so I moved through the loft casually as I sought to distract him.

  “I remembered something yesterday, something Stephen said.” Mentioning Stephen always got his attention. “It was about a watch I think, a... a pocket watch. He said it was important to you, and the fact that Amy couldn’t find it after you were gone convinced her that your absence was, well, voluntary.”

  He absently touched his front pocket, lost in thought.

  “Think about it and get back to me,” I said, hurrying down the stairs. I made for the kitchen closet where the stun gun and pepper spray were squirreled away in my washing machine. I transferred them into my purse and booked it to the bathroom where I could inspect them without Smith seeing.

  The Taser resembled a bulky gun, and I knew first hand how intimidating it could be. It could also miss its mark, something else I knew from experience. I decided to test it out, get a feel for it should worse come to worst. I sat on the edge of my tub, the grip resting between both palms, muzzle moving slowly as I sought a target. I settled for the door and pulled the trigger. The black tip leapt away, wire coils stretching taut as it thunked into the wooden surface. I waited for the blue sparks, but all I got was a pathetic buzz that fizzled out. Huh. Was I supposed to charge it?

  Well there was always the pepper spray. I pulled the bottle out of my purse and gave it a good shake. Double damn. It was almost, if not already, empty.

  It took a bit, but I rallied, thinking I never meant to use either of them anyway. They were just a bluff.

  Standing up with renewed purpose, I made to stuff them back into my bag when Smith surprised me. He swirled in through the mirror and sink, managing to catch me red-handed. His eyes fastened to the cartridge whose electrodes were still embedded in my bathroom door. He must have heard it hit.

  “Out!” I cried angrily. “The bathroom is off limits!”

  But he didn’t budge. In one glimpse he managed to put things together, pointing a finger at me in accusation.

  His emotions were charged, and they only served to set off my own. Throwing the pepper spray back into my bag I rounded on him, consequently running right into the corner of the counter. I slapped a hand to my stinging thigh and said, “That’s right. I’m going to confront Marks! And for the record this is my house. I was sneaking around to spare you but I’m done with that!”

  I ripped the probes out of the door, but I was too rough and the cartridge came off. That was when I reached my limit.

  “Shit!” I screeched, rolling the wires into a bundle before dumping them into the trash. I didn’t need that part anyway, the Taser still looked scary, I’d just flash it around a bit, problem solved. After giving it a violent shove into my purse, I shrugged the straps over my shoulder and prepared to leave.

  Smith shifted, his image misting briefly as he moved from place to place, forming solid in my path, blocking the door with his arms crossed. I’d never seen him look so real. He was just a man, no see-through parts, no glassy features, no blinking out or dripping mist.

  It was like putting on a first pair of glasses, everything clear and crisp. His usually dull hair was rich in hue, his skin taking on blemish, the pores visible for once. He seemed less flat, as if his figure had gained depth, the small details of him so intricate and fascinating. I couldn’t help but stare, gaping like an idiot. I almost forgot to be mad.

  Almost.

  “What? You think you’re going to stop me?” I moved forward, preparing to brush past him.

  A hand for each shoulder, they landed heavy, holding me in place before firmly pushing me back. I couldn’t believe it.

  “Did you just...” I trailed off, unable to process. Smith—the ghost—was going to stop me. I didn’t think so. “Move!” I yelled, ramming my shoulder into his chest.

  His arms folded around me, settling tight as he shifted me away from the door and folded me over, my back to his chest. Our struggle began in earnest then. I made a noise of outrage as I tried to pull free, bucking and twisting in his grip. He k
ept me pinned in place until I swept his boot out from under him. Smith crashed down with me beneath him, and trying to break the fall he let me go, bracing his arms to keep me from getting crushed.

  I turned onto my side, elbowed him once, and crawled away, scrambling for the door. I didn’t get far. Pressed flat, the air squeezed from my lungs as he sprawled out on top of me, cinching me to the floor where I squawked and kicked. By that point I was sure he was impervious to pain, my blows nothing more than an assault in varied pressure.

  I spit out a stream of swear words, the noise attracting unwanted attention. My pet ghost joined the fray. It came through the wall, jumping on, over, and through us, wagging and happy.

  Feeling ridiculous I continued to roll and thrash, my limbs growing heavy as I tired. But it was Smith that gave out first. With no warning whatsoever he simply dissolved, his form sort of splashing into an ectoplasmic puddle. He’d pushed himself too far, exerted too much energy, simply using himself up.

  I shooed the dog away, climbing to my feet as I brushed myself off. “Happy now?” I asked the pathetic quagmire of see-through silver. “You’ve drained yourself dry, and for what?”

  Smith was too tired to answer, even his feelings were muted. But his worry remained. It followed me out of the bathroom and through the front door, trailing me all the way off the island.

  Chapter 22

  I couldn’t say why I thought confronting Ed Marks was a good idea. It probably wasn’t. But things had been so chaotic lately, I just wanted to put them to rest. I couldn’t deny that it felt good to press forward, sort of like that time I’d climbed into Beagban’s truck. Dangerous and scary, yes, but I’d turned the tables, taking control of the situation. And I was doing it again.

  Besides, I wasn’t going off half-cocked, I’d done my research. There was only one Edward Marks listed within a fifty mile radius of SL&S. With Stephen covering my shift I was free to face him alone, assuming he was home on a Saturday night. It was worth a shot. And I had a few defensive weapons if shit hit the fan, so what if they weren’t working? Marks didn’t know that. Plus I had Reed’s ring with its panic button should things get out of hand. It was all sorted.