by A. J. Colby
“Is what? Some kind of delusion I dreamed up from a fall down the stairs?”
“Don’t want to believe that the FBI isn’t filled with little angels like you, is that it?” Chrismer asked, inexplicably coming to my rescue, her voice dripping with as much derision as I felt. I couldn’t stand the woman, but for a brief moment I had to agree with her, even though it galled me to do so.
“I want to believe you, I do believe you. It’s just...” he trailed off, rubbing a hand over his face as he sighed.
When he looked back up at me his eyes were brimming with sadness and regret, and a lack of something else that had been there before. A small piece of his innocence had been torn away by the betrayal of his partner. Johnson was a total douche, and apparently also a psycho, but he’d been Holbrook’s partner for years, they’d had each other’s backs through God knows what, and now he was as much the enemy as Samson. I felt sorry for Holbrook, but that didn’t erase how much his disbelief hurt.
“Believe whatever you want,” I muttered, sinking deeper into the pillows. All the bantering back and forth was rapidly burning through what little energy and patience I had left. I wished everyone would leave and let me go to sleep.
Except Alyssa. I wouldn’t mind if she stayed. I wonder if she’d give me a sponge bath if I asked nice enough, I thought, floating somewhere in a haze of pain, drugs and daydreams. At some point my eyes had slipped closed and I hadn’t even noticed.
“I do believe you,” Holbrook said so softly I almost didn’t catch his words, his hand warm and full of anxious energy when he wrapped it around my own where it rested on top of the scratchy blanket.
Squeezing my fingers gently he began to pull away with a regretful sigh. Before his fingers slipped away completely I caught them in mine, squeezing back. Opening my eyes, I flashed him as much of a smile as I could manage, though if his frown was anything to go by I’m sure it came out as more of a grimace than a smile.
Emotional explosion averted, for the moment at least, Holbrook rounded on Chrismer and demanded, “Why didn’t you take her to a hospital?”
“Call me crazy, but I didn’t think that taking her to a place where their first instinct would be to call the cops was the best thing to do, considering it was your partner who did this. Just be grateful I didn’t leave your girlfriend to die in the street.”
“She’s not my–”
“I’m not his–” we said in tandem, though I felt a small stab of sadness that he wasn’t claiming me as his girlfriend.
Get a grip. What are you, fourteen? I growled at myself, quickly squashing the nugget of regret.
Looking beyond Holbrook’s shoulder I saw Alyssa lurch to a stop in the doorway, her beautiful face having paled several shades. Noticing the direction of my gaze Holbrook turned in the chair, his shoulders growing stiff at the sight of Alyssa standing on the threshold holding a small cup of orange juice, the plastic crinkling under the tightness of her grip.
“This ought to be good,” Chrismer said in a stage whisper, though the rest of us ignored her running commentary, much to her dismay if her indignant huff was any indication.
Something unspoken passed between Holbrook and Alyssa in the brief moment that their eyes connected, Alyssa’s cheeks flushing while Holbrook’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding audibly. There was obviously some kind of history there, and although I wanted to be jealous of whatever they had shared, my instinctual fondness for Alyssa kept the green-eyed monster at bay.
“Hi, Darius,” she said, breaking eye contact and ducking her head, letting the fall of her hair partially obscure her face, but not before everyone in the room got a glimpse of the torment in her violet eyes.
“Alyssa,” he replied stiffly around the tightness in his jaw. It was a version of him I had not seen before, and I was startled by his icy manner.
Chrismer snorted in the corner of the room, her bright red lips curving into a smug smile though her eyes didn’t leave the small screen of her phone, her fingers continuing to dance across the keys in a blur.
Fidgeting on the cot, I wished there was some way I could excuse myself from the gathering tension, even as Chrismer seemed to drink it in. At least someone’s enjoying this.
“Did you have something to say?” Holbrook asked, his green eyes narrowing as he glared at the Day Servant.
“Oh no, don’t mind me,” she replied in a sultry purr, a single manicured hand waving absently in our direction. “I’m just an innocent bystander.”
“You don’t have an innocent bone in your body,” I muttered, my comment drawing her gaze up from her phone. The glint of silver in her eyes making me wish it hadn’t.
“Innocence is overrated, Cray. Innocence gets you killed,” she replied, her voice full of dark intent. And then the darkness was gone, her eyes returning to their usual icy blue, lingering on me for a heartbeat before the chime of her phone drew her focus back to the glowing screen.
I let my held breath out slowly, rubbing a hand over my face in an attempt to erase some of the sudden weariness. Wincing, I fingered the swelling in my cheek, wondering if I looked as much like a steaming pile of crap as I felt.
“What I wouldn’t give for a shower,” I said around a wide yawn, effectively breaking the tense atmosphere. “I feel like I’m covered in at least ten layers of crud.”
“You, uh, hungry?” Holbrook asked, the stiff set of his shoulders leading me to believe that it was taking an immense effort to ignore the other women in the room.
“I’ve got a major craving for Chinese food,” I offered with a shrug as another string of rapid fire chatter emanated from somewhere below us, accompanied by the loud banging of pots and pans.
Nodding, Holbrook flashed me a weak smile as he patted the back of my hand before rising from the chair and stalking out of the room, ignoring the other two women. I listened to his retreating footsteps thump down a nearby flight of stairs, the sound screaming of tension and anger.
So, not an amicable breakup then, I thought, risking a glance at Alyssa who stood on the opposite side of the room, looking fragile and wounded. I thought I saw the sheen of tears in her eyes, but when they rose to meet mine their violet depths were filled with warmth.
Crossing to the bed she pulled a medicine bottle from her pocket and pressed it into my hand.
“These will help with the pain until you’re able to heal like normal,” she said, offering me a friendly, albeit, sad smile. “The stitches will dissolve on their own, but try not to do anything that will tear them out, okay?”
“Sure thing, Doc.”
I wondered what had happened between her and Holbrook, but with Chrismer still lingering in the corner of the room like an unwelcome apparition, I didn’t dare broach the subject. Instead I accepted the pills and murmured my thanks.
Perching on the edge of the chair Alyssa went about unhooking me from the IV, her touch light but lacking any of its previous pull. Ushering Loki off my lap so I could push back the covers I watched, a little surprised, when he immediately jumped into Alyssa’s lap, reaching up to lay a single paw against her cheek. Just as I had sensed an exchange between her and Holbrook, I was sure something passed between Alyssa and Loki, some kind of deep and unspoken communication that I couldn’t even begin to guess at. Silence stretched out for several moments and then Alyssa blinked slowly, the spell of their connection seemingly broken as if it had never existed.
Maybe I’m imagining things, I reasoned, attributing the illusion of their connection to the drugs she’d given me.
“That’s an interesting companion you have,” she mused, trailing her fingers through the fur behind his giant bat-like ears, her expression remaining distant for a moment. Arching into her touch Loki purred at his usual freight train volume, delighting in her ministrations like the attention whore he was.
“He’s something alright,” I agreed, wondering if the day could possibly get any weirder.
Throwing back the hospital blanket and sheet I looked down at
my pale legs, livid bruises marring my swollen and scraped knees. I had the feeling that stairs were not going to be a pleasant experience for a while. Using the frame of the bed for support I levered myself up to my feet, my legs shaking but thankfully holding steady.
“Well, I’ll leave you to get dressed,” Alyssa said, lifting Loki from her lap to deposit him on the bed. “There’s some spare clothes I keep on hand in the cabinet above the sink. I’m sure there’s a few things in there that will fit you.”
“Thanks.”
I turned to tell Chrismer to get out, but found her already gone, a lingering trace of her expensive perfume the only indication that she had been in the room.
Yup, definitely a weird day.
“Thanks for your help, Alyssa,” I said, wishing there was something more I could say to erase the last traces of sadness in her eyes.
“You’re welcome, Riley. I hope to see you again soon, though maybe with less blood next time, yes?” she replied, the sincerity in her words making me like her all the more.
I waved as she stepped out of the room, and then realized how stupid I must look standing there in a hospital gown waving like a lovesick teenager with their first crush. Rolling my eyes at my juvenile behavior I staggered over to the sink and began digging through the assortment of t-shirts and sweat pants.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I WAS HALFWAY into a shirt proclaiming that Wang’s Chinese Restaurant had “the best dumplings in town!” when Holbrook came back into the room. I was flailing like an epileptic octopus and gritting my teeth against the pain in my ribs when I heard the sound of his footfalls and caught a hypnotic whiff of his sugary scent. Spinning around too fast, stumbling on unsteady legs, I fell back on the narrow bed with a pained “Oomph!” Standing in the doorway, attempting not to laugh and failing miserably, he regarded me with warm affection.
“I’m tempted to just leave topless,” I complained, choosing to ignore how pathetic I sounded.
“I wouldn’t protest,” Holbrook teased, arching a single dark brow at me. No doubt he was trying to lighten my mood, but his forest green eyes had begun to gather heat as potent and dangerous as a lightning storm.
“Oh,” was all I could manage to say, my mouth having gone suddenly dry.
He set a large, brown paper sack down on the empty chair beside the bed, a spot of grease soaking through one of the corners, and decided to take pity on me. Extending a hand towards me he pulled me back up to my feet. His touch was gentle as he helped me into the shirt, carefully avoiding all of the spots that hurt without me having to point any of them out.
As I followed him down the narrow stairs to the street, I was unable to suppress the glimmer of jealousy I felt at seeing Loki riding his shoulders like an overweight parrot. Once outside, I clambered up into the front of the SUV, the bag cradled in my arms, giving off a mouthwatering aroma. On the other side of the car Holbrook grunted as Loki jumped down from his shoulder, settling on the center console where he promptly curled up and went to sleep.
I dozed off somewhere between Alyssa’s clinic and the highway, the steady rumble of the tires on the pavement and Loki’s familiar purr combining with the painkillers to deliver a serious whammy. I didn’t have a chance in hell of staying awake for more than ten minutes.
The sound of Holbrook’s rich honeyed voice drifted into my sleeping mind, calling to me from beyond the veil of dreams. It took me a moment to realize that he was singing along with the radio softly so as not to wake me. Keeping my eyes closed I was content to listen to him, my fingers drumming on my thigh in time with the beat he tapped out on the steering wheel. I waited until he was done before making a show of yawning and rolling my stiff shoulders.
Blinking owlishly, I pushed myself up in the seat, wincing as the stitches tugged and every bruised inch of my body let me know just how much it didn’t appreciate being forced to move.
“God dammit, that hurts!” I groaned.
“Hey there, Sleeping Beauty.”
Grunting in reply, I ran a hand through my tangled hair, making a sound of disgust when I pulled out a glob of God knows what. Giving up on the hopeless case that was my hair I rubbed the grit from my eyes and looked out the window, failing to see any familiar landmarks, not that that was much of a surprise.
“So, where are we headed?” I asked, my words broken by a real yawn.
“My place. We’ll be there in another five minutes.”
* * *
Holbrook’s neighborhood was on the western edge of Lakewood, just a stone’s throw from the foothills, filled with sprawling lawns and mature trees. The houses were lit up like perfect little vignettes of mundane life, and I envisioned happy families gathering around the dinner table to share the details of their day.
Lucky bastards.
Cruising down the street, he turned in to a cul-de-sac, the headlights of the SUV illuminating a 70’s era red brick ranch as we pulled into the driveway next to an old blue and white pick-up truck, the security light above the garage clicking on, bathing us in garish light. Squinting against the glare I reached for Loki and felt a stab of betrayal as I watched him crawl up onto Holbrook’s shoulder. Biting my tongue against the hurt and anger, I grabbed the bag of take-out and slid out of the SUV, closing the door with a little more force than was necessary.
I knew I shouldn’t have begrudged them their burgeoning bromance, or whatever it was developing between them, but dammit, I was the one who’d just gone through hell. I wanted to be coddled and pampered.
Shuffling along behind Holbrook I followed him up the walk to the front door, thinking increasingly uncharitable thoughts as I stood shivering in the cold while he unlocked the door. While the outside of the house was 70’s chic, complete with beige siding and light blue shutters, the interior was much more in keeping with a modern bachelor’s style. The front door opened onto a living room dominated by a flat screen TV that was at least three times the size of the clunky TV I’d had since college. Launching himself off of Holbrook’s shoulder with an excited trill, Loki landed on the back of a recliner, instantly making himself at home.
“Is it even worth telling him no?” Holbrook asked with a weary sigh.
“Not really, but you’re welcome to give it a try,” I replied, fighting to keep the acid out of my voice.
He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the couch while shaking his head. “Kitchen’s this way.”
Three short steps led up into a kitchen and dine-in nook that looked to be halfway through a remodel. Modern appliances stood out in stark relief against the original cabinets that still smelled faintly of their recent coat of off-white paint. Paint cans and tools littered one end of the new kitchen table that sat under a layer of plastic, a set of IKEA assembly instructions poking out of the nearby trashcan.
“Sorry about the mess. I was taking some time off to do a bit of remodeling when the call about Reed came in.”
“No worries,” I replied, trailing behind him like a lost puppy, feeling out of place, more than a little grumpy, and bone tired. As good as the Chinese food smelled all I wanted to do was tell the world to go to hell, and find a dark spot to curl up in and go to sleep. Not necessarily in that order.
I stood in the middle of the kitchen in a daze, unsure of what to do, while Holbrook bustled around me, clearing off one end of the table and retrieving plates and silverware. His hands settling on my shoulders roused me from my dream-like trance, guiding me to the table and pushing me down into a chair. A hand appeared at my elbow with a glass of water and two little white pills.
“Take these, eat some food, and then off to bed.”
“Yes, Mother.” I popped the pills in my mouth and took a long draught of water. I wasn’t sure I had ever tasted anything so good and pure, the cool liquid soothing my raw throat.
I’m sure the sweet and sour pork and fried rice Holbrook piled onto my plate was delicious, but as the painkillers began to soften the edges of my vision and make my limbs feel like they
weighed no more than a feather, I struggled to coordinate my fork and mouth. I ended up with more food in my lap than in my mouth.
Taking pity on me, or maybe not wanting to spend all night cleaning up spilled rice and sticky sweet and sour sauce, Holbrook cleaned away our plates and helped me up from my chair. Sweeping me up off my feet effortlessly, he cradled me against his chest and carried me through the house into his bedroom. As a teenager, and even a college student, I’d had fantasies about a man with rippling muscles and perfect hair sweeping me off my feet in some obscenely romantic way. It figures that when it did happen I was too drugged to give a damn.
His bedroom was blessedly dark and cool when he deposited me on the bed, letting me flop backwards to sprawl across the oh-so-soft comforter, while he busied himself tugging off my boots. I was fading fast, but hadn’t quite slipped over into unconsciousness yet, teetering on the edge of drugged oblivion where I felt like I’d had one too many margaritas.
“Hey baby, wanna wrestle?” I slurred, gazing up at Holbrook’s blurry shape in the darkness as he leaned over me to unbutton my jeans.
Rather than jumping my bones as I’d hoped, he just told me to “Hush” and peeled off my jeans as gently as he could manage while I squirmed like a seal having a seizure. Irresistible sex kitten, that’s me.
“Aw come on, Agent Tight Pants. Don’t you want to frisk me?” I asked with what was intended to be a sexy leer. Judging by his frown I think I just ended up looking mildly constipated. Ignoring my attempts at seduction he wrestled me into a sitting position to pull off my shirt.
“Hold still,” he admonished as I tried to assist in his efforts by pawing at his shirt. Surely if we were going to get down and dirty he needed to lose his clothes too.
Somehow he succeeded in getting me stripped down to my underwear, and then much to my disappointment pulled a clean t-shirt over my head, and tucked my legs under the covers before I could make any more attempts to lure him into bed with me.