Instead, he bowed his head in regret. “We just didn’t think—”
“Exactly,” she said and took off in search of coffee.
“Dude, could you hold it down?” the man on the bed next to me asked. “I got me a nine in my head and it’s pounding like a son of a bitch.”
I didn’t doubt it. I’d never had a nine-millimeter in my noggin, but it probably hurt. I looked back at Uncle Bob. “Is that why you had Garrett following me?”
He pursed his mouth. “That was the number one reason.”
“And the other was just in case Reyes Farrow happened to show up.”
“That would be number two.”
I stood, disgusted with men at the moment. “So, you could tell Swopes but not me?”
“Charley, we didn’t know if this guy would ever show or if he was just full of shit. He blamed your dad for the death of his daughter. She died when Caruso crashed his car during a police chase. Your dad was the one doing the chasing. When he got out of prison, he started calling your dad, telling him he was going to kill his entire family, so we put tails on all of you. Your dad didn’t want you to worry.”
He may as well have ended that statement with
I stood toe to toe with him, furious that every man I was even remotely close to had been lying to me for the past two weeks. I tiptoed and whispered, “Then fuck you all.”
Paperwork or no paperwork, I left to look for Cookie, also known as my ride home. As I walked past the elevators, the doors opened, and there stood my sister. She sighed and stepped out. “So, are you going to live?” she asked.
“As always.”
“How’s Dad?”
“The doctor said he’ll be fine. He has a concussion and a few bruised ribs, but nothing’s broken. He’s going to be out for a good while.”
“Fine. I’ll come back in the morning.” She turned and strode down the hall slightly ahead of me, as if she didn’t want to be seen with me in public. In that case, I’d give her good reason.
With a gasp, I grabbed my chest, collapsed against the wall, started hyperventilating. Trying to fake hyperventilation without actually hyperventilating was not as easy as one might think.
Gemma turned back and glared. “What are you doing?” she asked through clenched teeth.
“It’s all coming back to me,” I said, throwing a hand over my head in agony. “When I was in the hospital getting my tonsils out, I tried to escape. The fluid leaking from my severed IV led them right to me and I was recaptured.”
Worried someone might be watching, she did a quick perimeter check before refocusing on me. “You’ve never had your tonsils out. You’ve never even been in a hospital overnight.”
“Oh.” I straightened. That was embarrassing. “Wait! Yes, I have, when Aunt Selena died. I stayed with her, held her hand all night.”
She rolled her eyes. “Aunt Selena is a missionary in Guatemala.”
“Seriously? Then who was that old lady?”
After a loud and lengthy sigh, she started for the exit again and spoke over her shoulder. “Probably your real mother, because we cannot possibly be related.”
I smiled and trotted after her. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”
Chapter Thirteen
DON’T GO BUYING TROUBLE.
IT’S FREE AND IT KNOWS WHERE YOU LIVE.
The next morning, I slept until nine, which was understandable since I didn’t go to bed until well past five. My mental state was still leaning toward fluffy when I searched out the coffeepot.
“Morning, Mr. Wong,” I said, my gravelly voice sounding as sleep-deprived as I felt. As I was reaching for the coffee can, I noticed a note lying on Mr. Coffee. He was so romantic. I paused to open the first fold.
Hmmm. Several options came to mind. Aggressive. Dependable. Stalwart. Somehow I doubted any of those would be the answer they were looking for. I opened the last fold of the note.
Dang. I should have stuck with monosyllabic guesses. Criminals weren’t keen on big words.
As enlightening as that was, I had work to do — so many lives to destroy, so little time — and new locks to buy. Having approximately three minutes to spare after I turned the pot on to brew, I decided to pee. But as I walked past my front door, someone knocked. I stopped, looked around, waited. After a moment, another round of raps echoed in my apartment.
I tiptoed toward the door, vowing that if they were already there to kill me, I was going to be really pissed. I peered out the peephole. Two women stood there, Bibles in hand. Please. That was such a bad disguise. They were probably expert assassins, sent to put two in my head before noon.
But there was only one way to find out. I slid the chain on my door into place and cracked it open. The older woman smiled and started in right away. “Good morning, ma’am. Have you noticed how the world is plagued with bad health right now?”
“Um—”
“That disease and illness have spread to every corner of God’s green earth?”
“Well—”
“We’re here to tell you that it is not always going to be that way.” She opened her Bible and thumbed through it, giving me an opportunity to speak.
“So, you’re not here to kill me?”
She paused, crinkled her thin brows at me, then glanced at her friend before saying, “Excuse me? I don’t think I understand.”
“You know, to kill me. To assassinate me. To put a gun to my head—”
“I think you have us confused with—”
“Wait! Don’t leave.” I closed the door to unchain it. When I swung it open, they took a wary step back. “So, you’re not assassins?”
They both shook their heads.
“You’re Jehovah’s Witnesses?”
They nodded.
This could be a good thing. Maybe they knew something I didn’t. “Perfect. Let me ask you,” I said as the younger one in back let her gaze wander over my attire, which consisted of a Blue Oyster Cult T-shirt that advised people not to fear the reaper and a pair of plaid boxers, “as Jehovah’s Witnesses, what exactly have you witnessed?”
“Well, if you’ll take a look…” The older one was rifling through her Bible again. “As a witness, it is our obligation to separate ourselves from wrongdoers, to purge evil persons from among us, and—”
“Right, right, that’s great.” I interrupted her with a wave of my hand. “But what I really need to know is, can you see, or
They glanced at each other. The younger one spoke this time, her shoulders straightening in confidence. “Well, demons are simply fallen angels who sided with Satan, the ruler of the world in these end times. It is our responsibility to remain chaste and faithful—”
“But have you ever seen one?” I said, interrupting again. At this rate, I would never get invited to a service.
