by Logan Fox
Oh God, no.
Her eyes slid closed. The pressure from her lungs had become a vacuum. Her diaphragm contracted, trying to urge new, fresh air into her lungs. But Pearl held it. She held it until lights sparkled in the darkness behind her eyes. She held it until a rush of tingles broke out over her limbs and rushed up to her head.
Pearl held her breath until a cold darkness surrounded her. Until a sound whispered around her — the sound of someone moving. As air stirred around her.
Cold, gentle fingers brushed the back of her neck. That cold leaked into her, trickling down her spine like melting ice.
She expected tears. They never came. Instead, that furious, auguring pressure dissolved. A strange, heavy calm descended on her.
Pearl turned, unlocked the door, and swung it open. Seth’s hand dropped to his side. His black eyes were crinkled with unspoken questions. A bottle of Pepto hung by his side, forgotten.
She cocked her head at him. A smile found its way onto her mouth, but she had no idea where it came from or what emotion drove it.
“I’m better now.” She shrugged, her smile deepening. “How about that drink?”
Seth watched from the lounge as Pearl poured them a drink. All he had in his cupboard was whiskey. He took it neat, she watered hers down with soda and a few cubes of ice.
“That’s enough, kitten,” Seth called out. “I said a single.”
“Means I don’t have to keep getting up,” Pearl said with a laugh.
And it — hopefully — meant he’d be too inebriated to notice her emptying the contents of Ethan’s vial into his next glass. She returned to the couch, offering Seth his glass before sitting down beside him.
“I can’t believe Tanner’s letting him come back,” Seth said for the fifth time.
Pearl managed not to roll her eyes. “Like I said, I don’t think Tanner had anything to do with it. I think this is Caden somehow getting back at Tanner for… something.”
“Like what?”
Pearl peered at the man over the rim of her glass. She didn’t like whiskey and soda — it was bitter and harsh on her tongue — but she had a feeling he wouldn’t drink if she didn’t.
“Opal.”
“What about her?” Seth asked quietly. He brought the glass to his lips and tipped it back. Emptied it, actually.
“She’s gone. And Caden thinks Tanner had something to do with it.”
“Gone,” Seth repeated. “Gone like Ivy?”
“Yup.” Pearl nodded and took a swallow from her glass, grimacing. She shifted on the chair and the journal dug into her thigh. Nudging it as inconspicuously as possible, Pearl took another swallow and set her glass down on the coffee table.
Why wasn’t Seth’s name in the notes bundled up in her pocket? And who the hell were Abby and Rex? The thought of someone so young involved in something as grisly as—
She closed her eyes, hurriedly erasing the image of a little girl patting down dirt over a shallow grave.
When she’d first seen that scrawled handwriting, she’d thought Gia had slipped the papers into her journal.
And that brought up another, very disturbing question.
Who the hell had planted the notes in her journal… in her room… at the Fox Pit? Only a handful of people had access to her room. Her, of course. Seth. But why would he plant something to — possibly — implicate himself in a series of atrocious murders? Caden. Ethan. No one made sense.
Except Caden.
Caden… who had told her to write in her journal.
Had he planted this? Why? How? She’d been with him—
But she hadn’t been in her room for the hour or two she’d been with Ethan. And before that, she’d been in the dungeon with Opal.
Her head reeled, and it had nothing to do with the watered down whiskey or her fatigue. She wasn’t a fucking cop or a detective or some Nancy Drew-style teenage sleuth. She was Pearl. A stripper-cum-prostitute — hur, hur, hur — with zero in the way of skills of deductive skills.
She had to get the notes to Ethan. He could test it for fingerprints. Do handwriting analysis and shit. He would know how to decipher the creepy pseudo-confessions that filled it. He would know who the fuck Abby and Rex—
A hand grabbed her thigh.
“Pearl?”
“Huh?” She snapped her eyes to Seth.
She been staring at the blank wall as if it had the answers. She blushed. God, she had to stay sharp. Here, now… with him? Zoning out could be a death sentence. She picked up her glass, ignored Seth’s pointed stare, and chugged it down.
“Come on, big boy. Down the hatch.” She flicked her fingers at the glass in his hand.
“I—”
“Last drink. I’m finished. After what that fuckhead—” She cut off before mentioning how Owen had gone off the rails. Right now she had no idea how Seth would react to the news that someone had gone to town on his kitten.
“What?”
“It was a hectic scene earlier, okay? I’m done.” She flicked her fingers again, more impatiently, and Seth sighed.
“I shouldn’t—”
“Give a fuck,” Pearl cut in. She managed a smile as she cut in. “Come on. Last one, I promise.”
Seth gave a single-shoulder shrug and tossed back what was left of his drink. He didn’t grimace like she’d expected, but his lips pursed for a moment as if he regretted downing the liquid. He handed her the glass, watching her silently as she walked to the kitchenette.
Well, fuck, she couldn’t do it with him staring at her like that.
Pearl set the glasses down and shot Seth another smile over her shoulder. Her head was feeling fuzzy, but she doubted it was from the alcohol. Probably her brain melting — she was redlining it of late.
“Tell you what,” she said. “Why don’t you draw us a bath?”
Hopefully, she could stall him long enough to imbibe most of the tranquilizer, and he would pass out in the small room. The one with the convenient lock on the door.
Seth frowned, a confused smile touching his mouth. “A bath?”
“It’s been a fuck-long day. I could really do with some unwinding.”
“But… you’re sure—”
“I was hoping you’d give me a backrub,” Pearl lied, deepening her smile. A backrub was the last thing she wanted from possible-serial-killer Seth, but what the hell else was she supposed to say?
Seth gave a slow nod. “Sure, kitten.”
He rose and walked down the hallway. She heard his boots falling on the bathroom tiles, a cupboard door opening, pouring water.
Pearl drew the vial from her pocket, uncapped it, dropped the lid on the floor, cursed under her breath, ducked down to retrieve the lid, and almost had a heart attack when Seth came around the corner.
She shot to her feet, managing to cup the vial in her palm as she turned to face Seth.
If she hadn’t dropped the lid…
She desperately stomped on that insidious thought, squashing it like a maggoty worm.
Seth held up two bottles of bubble bath. “Peonies or lavender?”
Pearl swallowed. “P-peonies.”
“Sure?”
“Or lavender.”
“If you want peo—”
“Yes!” Pearl drew a sharp breath. “Peony’s fine.”
“Jesus, you are strung out,” Seth murmured, frowning at her. “I’ll make sure to get some of those knots out. You probably have a dozen of them.”
Twenty-seven of them, actually.
She squashed the second traitorous thought of the evening, gave Seth a sickly smile, and watched him turn around and leave. She glanced down, her eyes shooting back up as she tipped the tranquilizer into his glass. Two glugs of whiskey later, she set the bottle down and let out a long breath.
Then she was back on her knees, hunting for the lid. How the hell could it have rolled out of the kitchen? It wasn’t like—
“Water’s running.”
She shot to her feet again, sliding t
he empty vial into her pocket as she straightened.
“Great.”
“What are you looking for?”
“Dropped… a… an ice cube.”
Seth gave a dismissive wave. “It’ll melt.”
She nodded, took up their drinks, and followed Seth to the bathroom. He was already peeling off his shirt when she came inside, and she hurriedly handed him his glass, clinking it with hers before he could set it down.
“And now?”
“A toast.” Pearl took a long swallow of her soda-only drink and grinned at Seth.
“To what?” Seth took a sip from his drink, watching her with unreadable eyes.
“To… my third week here.” God, redlining her brain? More like melting it down for fucking ore. “And I’m still standing.” Pearl lifted her hand, palm up, and twirled around. “See?”
He gave a small nod, took another swallow, and turned to set his drink on the lid of the toilet.
Fuck.
Pearl looked away as he tugged off his boots and socks and undid the zipper of his dark jeans.
Shit, fuck, shit! She was supposed to be stalling, not watching him get naked!
“I, uh… where’s your wife?”
Well, that worked.
Seth paused, thumbs hooked behind his belt, ready to yank his jeans down. His jaw bunched. He tilted his head up, staring at Pearl from beneath eyebrows as black as his eyes. “Melanie?”
“Oh… was that her name?” Pearl let out a nervous laugh — it sounded suspiciously like a panicked giggle — and slid her arm out of her jumper as slowly as possible.
“She’s… we’re…” Seth let out a long sigh, turned around, and took another swallow of his drink.
B-I-N-G-fucking-O. She had to suppress a triumphant titter. God, her nerves were absolutely fucking shot.
“Seth? What’s wrong?” Could he hear the false concern in her voice?
“Nothing. It’s just—” He roughly cleared his throat and set his empty glass down. “I don’t want to talk about her, okay? Let’s just…”
Get naked and in the bathtub? Way to go, Seth.
Pearl forced away the sour thought and gave him a nod as she slid her other arm out. His jeans came off, boxers at the same time, and he tested the water with a swish of his finger before stepping in.
She froze, both arms inside the sweater, fingers gripping the bottom and ready to hoist it over her head.
She’d forgotten about her dressings.
Wasn’t it going to hurt like shit, getting into a hot, peony-scented bath of water?
Seth slid under the bubbles, letting out a heavy sigh. He opened his eyes, blinking up at her.
“You getting in or just perving?”
Pearl shook her head and lifted her top over her head. Her sweats came off next. She used her foot to push it against the side of the bath, as far away from Seth as possible.
Maybe if she kept her back to him…
And just how the hell was he supposed to give her a fucking backrub?
God, she sucked at conniving.
Pearl gave him a tentative smile and stepped into the bath. The water wasn’t too hot. Maybe, if she—
Water soaked into the first dressing. A streak of fire flashed across her skin, worse than when Owen had inflicted the wound. Pearl hissed and stopped, hurriedly standing again. Seth stared up at her, filling the bath like a ripped, tattooed whale. He stroked a hand down his beard, and that familiar frown formed between his brows.
“Kitten?”
“I… just…”
A cellphone rang.
Seth let out a heavy breath, sitting up fast enough to send a small wave over the side of the tub.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “That guy has the worst—”
“I’ll get it!” Pearl leaped out of the bath, almost cracking her head when her foot slid out from under her. She managed to grab hold of the side of the tub, gasping at another flash of pain from two of the wounds on her back.
“Pearl!” Seth surged forward, spilling more water over the side of the tub.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Pearl forced herself up, somehow managing to keep her dressings out of sight, and backed out of the bathroom, trying desperately not to cover herself with her hands. “I’ll fetch it for you. Where is it?”
“Ah, shit. It’s still in my bag. Just look—” Seth cut off. He stood up in the tub, water and suds streaming down him. “I’ll get it.”
“No, I see it.” Pearl flung out a hand. “Stay in there. I’ll get it for you.”
Seth’s frown was indicative of just how desperate the words rushing out of her mouth sounded, but he stayed. Stayed and peered at her with deep suspicion as she backed away. Luckily, the bathroom was angled so that Seth could only see into a portion of the bedroom.
And, when she did find his bag a few seconds later — the shrilly ringing phone was a big help in locating it — she was hidden from view.
Pearl winced as she squatted down beside the bag. The large duffel bag had a plethora of pockets on the front and sides. It looked sturdy, but worn. She found the pocket containing the phone and tugged it out. A number glowed on the screen.
She grabbed one of the robes hanging on the back of Seth’s bedroom door, slipped it around her shoulders, and hurried back into the bathroom as the phone stopped ringing.
“Shit, sorry.” Pearl handed the phone to Seth.
He peered at the screen with a deep frown, his mouth twisting. “Doesn’t matter, don’t know the number. They’ll phone back if it’s important.”
He put the phone on the toilet seat, seemed disappointed to see his empty glass, and then turned to her.
“What’s with the robe, kitten?”
“Oh.” Pearl grabbed up his glass. “I see you’re out. I’ll top you up.”
“Fuck… I shouldn’t…”
She ignored him, letting out a relieved breath as she hurried into the kitchen. Letting half a glass of whiskey glug into his glass, Pearl scanned the kitchen floor for the vial’s lid. Would it be that bad if she couldn’t find it? He wouldn’t know what it was, would he?
“Pearl, maybe—”
She heard rushing water. Fuck, was he getting out again?
Seth was indeed half out of the bath when she came back with his drink.
“Hey! Get back in there. I said I was just getting a drink.”
“Yeah, but you really don’t seem that keen—”
The phone cut him off. Seth climbed out of the tub, seeming completely unaware of just how wet or how naked he was. Pearl averted her eyes, handing Seth his whiskey as the man answered his phone.
“Hello?” Seth took a sip from his glass and swallowed hurriedly. “Oh, Mr. Morrison. I didn’t recognize your—”
Morrison? Owen Morrison? Pearl’s skin began crawling. The wounds on her back all thrummed simultaneously.
“Yes, I’m alone.” Seth turned and gave her a wink over his shoulder, lifting the glass and taking another deep swallow from it. It was such an unexpected gesture that Pearl took a step back, eyes widening.
Of course. This was their little secret.
Then he winced, his eyes narrowing as if he’d suddenly developed a raging migraine. Seth turned away with a grimace. “You want to talk to who? No, I’m sor—ry…”
His voice became unsteady.
The whiskey glass fell from his fingers, smashing on the floor. Pearl slapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a gasp of surprise.
Seth stood motionless for a second, hand limp at his side, the phone held lightly to his ear. Then he turned on his heel and strode from the bathroom.
“All right, babber.”
Pearl stared after him, wide eyed. That hadn’t sounded anything like Seth. Her gaze fell to the mess on the floor. She went to her knees, mind churning with thick billows of nothing as she began picking shards of glass from the floor. The stench of whiskey battled peonies in the air around her.
She couldn’t hear anything else from Set
h — he’d walked out the bedroom and closed the door behind him.
Owen? Why the hell was he calling Seth? And had it just been the way Seth had answered that had made him sound so weird? So… different?
Pearl drew air through her teeth, flinching her hand away from the floor and shoving her finger in her mouth. One of the finer pieces of glass had sliced into her fingertip as she’d picked up it up. A tiny drop of blood dispersed almost instantly into a splash of whiskey.
She tossed the glass shards into the waste basket and used a wad of toilet paper to urge as much of the remainder into a corner of the bathroom, away from bare naked feet.
How long would it take for the tranquilizer to kick in? Ten, fifteen minutes?
What if it happened while he was on the phone?
She heard the bedroom door open.
Clenching her jaw, Pearl stepped into the bath and lowered herself with a fierce grimace.
Fuck, shit, damn it hurt.
But at least Seth hadn’t seen that pain on her face. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice—
Seth came into the bathroom. Pearl hurriedly tugged her hands away from the side of the tub and slid down until her shoulders were under the bubbles. She even managed a faint smile.
Seth didn’t return it. He had a near scowl on his face, his dark eyes narrow. Pearl’s heart gave a sickeningly hard thud against her ribs.
Seth knocked her legs out of the way with a bump of his knee as he slid into the water opposite her. He wasn’t looking at her — his eyes were downcast, his movements autonomous and jerky.
“Is everything—”
He lifted his chin at her. “Thought you wanted a backrub?”
“Oh, it’s okay.”
Seth grabbed her wrist and tugged her closer. She skidded over his legs, biting down on her lip at the stab of pain from her wounds.
“Fuck, Seth.” Pearl wrestled her wrist free, but she was already sprawled over him like some terrible attempt at bathtub fornication.
“Can’t do it if you’re all the way over there, kitten. What do you think, I’m fucking superman?”
Pearl shifted around, trying to keep her shoulders under the water. The tub was filled to the brim — although less so now. The floor was probably under an inch of water already.