Sometimes he just has to pretend he’s a sane person who isn’t friends with the likes of me.
It’s a nice fantasy, so I let him have it.
I was surprised Damon didn’t bring Rex along with him until he explained his boyfriend is working the night shift on base, and he didn’t want to drag him away for “dubious night activities.” In reality, Rex will be pissed he was left out of the fun.
Damon is very overprotective of Rex, which is hysterical to me because my cousin is about the most fearless lunatic I’ve ever met. Watching them together is like one of those videos where a big dog trails closely around after a brave little duckling to make sure it doesn’t accidentally die by falling off the pavement or something.
We go to the nearest empty safe house. It’s abandoned and surrounded by empty residential houses that were left behind ages ago. No one really lives around here anymore, which makes it the perfect place to take people when you don’t want to be seen or cared about.
The house is small but sparse and clean. There’s just enough furniture to make it somewhat functional.
Damon deposits Rohan on a baggy green sofa in the living toom. King follows after our best friend with admirable loyalty.
I take Kitty into the downstairs bathroom and use a set of extra-reinforced titanium handcuffs I asked Damon to bring with him to cuff Kitty’s wrists around the bottom of the toilet. I’m not sure exactly how strong he is, but hopefully that will hold him when he wakes up. It should at least give us a head start.
Once Kitty is cuffed, I go back into the living room to sit on the coffee table and watch Rohan. King comes to sit beside me to stare at him as well, panting away loudly.
“You know this is completely mad, don’t you?” Damon says for about the hundredth time. He’s standing in the living room doorway, leaning against it and looking at me with a worried expression on his face.
“God, Damon,” I say dramatically. “You act like this is the first time you’ve ever abducted anyone off the street.”
Damon huffs out an irritated breath. “Itis.”
“Well, that’s hardly my fault. You should really take my mum’s advice and live a little. Stop being so uptight.” I tut at him. “You’ll never convince Rex to be your husband one day if you can’t even abduct people now and again without throwing a fit over it. That’s what people really want in a partner, you know. A man with gumption. Or something.”
Damon rolls his eyes heavenward and complains, “You sound like my mum.”
“Good. I like your mum, she’s great.” I give him a judgemental look. “You should call her more.”
Damon makes an exasperated sound. “I don’t call her for three days in a row, and suddenly I’m the worst son alive.”
I shake my head at him in a show of disappointment. “That epic woman loves you. You can call her every two days like a proper son would.”
Damon moves further into the room and drops down onto a large sofa chair. He looks at me suspiciously. “Has she been calling you about this? Again?”
“No,” I say primly. “I’m in the Colbie WhatsApp group.”
Damon drops his face down into his hands and moans. “Oh Jesus.”
I offer him a sly smile. “And we all think you’re the worst son alive. Especially that girl who works in the bakery, Kylie. She really hates you.”
Damon peers out from between his slightly parted fingers. “I’ve been kicked out of the Colbie WhatsApp group,” he says indignantly. “And Kylie hates me because I broke up with her psycho sister.”
Damon and Rex’s hometown, Colbie, from what I’ve been able to gather, is the origin place of all weirdos. It’s one of the reasons Damon and Rex moved into their own flat in Danger as soon as they could and only go back home for family visits.
I gasp in mock outrage. “Hey, Veronica was very nice.”
I remember Veronica. She was definitely working on only half a biscuit, but Damon knew that when he got together with her. I warned him to steer clear, but he wouldn’t listen. He was enthralled by her massive breasts and. Uh. Other things, I’m sure.
“She cut out the crotches of all my trousers when she thought I was cheating on her,” Damon reminds me, like I could ever forget that particular text exchange.
“It’s not like they were expensive trousers,” I say, just to annoy him.
Damon isn’t done arguing his case, though.
“She keyed my car.”
“She keyed your dad’s car, which you borrowed.” I shake my head. “That doesn’t count.”
