“He’s a doctor.”
“Who’s a doctor?” Nothing of use in his medicine cabinet. Absolutely nothing. Unless nondrowsy allergy medication could be considered a painkiller.
“The guy whose wife is missing.”
“Oh, right.”
Who on planet Earth didn’t have aspirin in the house? My head ached, for heaven’s sake. I’d nodded off on the way over to Garrett’s place and veered into oncoming traffic. The honking horns and flashing lights had me believing I’d been abducted by aliens. Thank goodness a well-placed telephone pole put a stop to that nonsense. I needed stronger coffee to keep me awake. Or maybe something else entirely. Something industrial.
I peeked around the door and asked, “Do you keep syringes of adrenaline on hand?”
“There are special programs for people like you.”
In a moment of sheer terror, I realized I couldn’t feel my brain. It was just there a minute ago. Maybe I really was dead. “Do I look dead to you?”
“Does your sister have an after-hours emergency number?”
“You’re not helping,” I said, making sure the disgust in my voice was unmistakable. “You would suck as a customer service representative.”
He unfolded himself from the chair and headed for the fridge. “Want a beer?”
I shuffled to the table and stole his seat. “Seriously?”
A brow arched into a shrug as he twisted the cap off a bottle.
“No, thank you. Alcohol is a depressant. I need these lids to stay open for days.” I pointed to them for visual confirmation.
“Why?” he asked after a long swig.
“Because when they’re closed,
“God?” Garrett guessed.
“Reyes.”
Garrett’s jaw pressed shut. Probably because he wasn’t horridly fond of Reyes or our unconventional relationship. Then again, nobody ever said consorting with the son of Satan would be easy. He set the beer on the counter and strode to his room, his movements suddenly sharp, exact. I watched him disappear — he had a nice tapering thing going on — and reappear almost instantly with shirt and boots in hand. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”
“I came in Misery.”
“Exactly, and I think you’ve caused enough.”
“No, my Jeep. Misery? Remember her?” Sometimes people found it odd that I’d named my cherry red Jeep Wrangler Misery, but Gertie just didn’t seem to fit. “She’ll be upset if I just leave her here on a strange side street. Alone. Injured.”
He looked back at me, startled. “You wrecked your Jeep?”
I had to think about that one. “I can’t be entirely certain. There was a telephone pole, screeching tires, the strong possibility of alien life. It all happened so fast.”
“Seriously. I need your sister’s number.” He shrugged into the shirt as he hunted down his keys.
“Desperate much? Besides, you’re not my sister’s type.”
After Garrett escorted me to his truck none-too-gently, he climbed into the driver’s side and brought the vehicle to life with a roar. The engine sounded pretty good, too. I gazed out the window as we swam through Albuquerque, the night thick with an almost impenetrable darkness. The tranquil serenity didn’t help my current predicament. My scratchy lids were like lead and grew heavier and heavier with every minute that passed. Every second. Despite the discomfort, I fought with all my strength to keep them open, because this was better than the alternative: Reyes Farrow being drawn into my dreams against either of our wills, like an invisible force pulled him toward me every time I closed my eyes. And once inside my head, all our anger and inhibitions washed away into a sea of sensuality where mouths scorched and hands explored. Which sucked because we were both quite annoyed with each other.
But for him to say that I’d summoned him just didn’t make sense. I’d have to look into that one.
“How long have you been awake?”
I snapped back to Garrett and looked at my watch. Or, well, my wrist where my watch would have been had I remembered it. “Um, about thirteen days.”
He seemed to still beside me. I couldn’t be sure, though. I was drifting in and out of reality, if the little girl with the kitchen knife on his hood was any indication. I suppose she could have been a departed, but they rarely rode on hoods.
“Look, I realize you’re different than the average human,” Garrett said, his tone guarded, “but thirteen days without sleep can’t be good for anyone, not even you.”
“Probably not. Did you buy a new hood ornament?”
He glanced at his hood. “No.”
“This doctor have a name?”
He reached across my lap into the glove box and pulled out a card. “Here’s his info. He’s supposed to go to your office this morning if you make it in.”
Dr. Nathan Yost. “I’ll make it in. Is he a friend of yours?”
“Nope. He’s an asshole. But everyone else on planet Earth seems to worship him.”
“All righty, then.” I tried to stuff the card into a pocket, then realized I didn’t have any. “Hey, I left my bag in Misery.”
Garrett shook his head. “The things you say, Charles. Oh, I keep meaning to tell you, I’ve been working on a special list of things one should never say to the grim reaper.”
I chuckled. “I have so many comebacks to that, I don’t think I can pick just one.”
“I’ll start at the bottom,” he said with a grin. “Are you ready?”
I shrugged my right eyebrow. “As I’ll ever be.”
“Okay, number five,
“So, it’s not a particularly long list.”
“Do you want to hear the list or not?” he asked as we pulled into the parking lot of my apartment building.
“I’m weighing my options. This list could either be a revelation of apocalyptic proportions or a complete waste of my limited brain fuel. I’m leaning toward the latter.”
“Fine, I’ll tell you the rest when you’re in a better mood. It’ll make it more suspenseful.”
“Good idea,” I said with a thumbs-up. Suspenseful, my ass.
“Nobody recognizes true talent anymore.” He escorted me upstairs. “Are you going to get some sleep?” he asked as I inched the door closed between us, leaving him in the hallway.
“Not if I can help it.” At least he’d been of some use to me. I’d made it through another hour without sleep.
Just as I closed the door and turned toward the coffeepot, he reopened it, muttered, “Lock this,” then closed it again.
I trudged back and locked the door only to hear keys jiggling in the lock about two seconds later. Either that, or I’d fallen asleep standing up again. Since Reyes hadn’t appeared to offer me an earth-shattering climax, probably not.
Cookie burst in, walked right past me, and headed straight for the coffeepot. “Did you talk to Garrett?”
I followed her. “Yep. I think there was a clown in my apartment this morning.”
“Are my pajamas that bad?” she asked, surveying the pj’s she still wore.
“No.” I blinked back to her. “A dead clown.”
“Oh. Like a departed?”
“Yes.”
“Is he gone?” she asked, glancing around in concern.
“Yes. He crossed.”
“Well, that explains the clown comment. I just thought you were being a smart-ass.”
That trip made me super sleepy. Maybe I really did need a shot of adrenaline. “Hey, I thought you were going
