A familiar yellow tabby pads downs the stairs, jumps up on the table, and eyeballs me. Then she gives me a toothy yawn, and meows.
“Et tu, Brute?” My Shakespeare wasted, Chloe lays down, chin on the first aid kit until Mia shoos her off.
“Mrumph.” Chloe jumps up again, so I grab her by the scruff of the neck and put her in my lap, keeping my drink away from her reaching paws.
Joey swabs cold gel over my mouth while my older cousin pours a few shots of Johnny Walker into a sippy cup with a straw. “Drink this.”
Thirsty as hell, my lips refuse to come together but Rose, God bless her, does not give up. “Tilt your head back and I’ll pour it down your throat.”
I do as she says, swallow, and cough. A few more doses later, I close my eyes, ready for stitches and don’t feel a thing.
After Joey cuts the thread, I hug him to me. “Thank-ooh. Weally. I wean it. Woo are the west cousin ewer.”
The man who’s been my big brother for my whole life rests his eyes on me, shaking his head back and forth. “Damn, I wouldn’t want to be you when Sebastian finds out. You sure you called him? Rosey, take a look at her phone.”
I try to grab it back but not recently having had whiskey poured down her throat, she’s faster.
“Yup. Says right here she tried but got no answer. And she texted. Wait a second.”
She glares at me. “A little fall? Really Sam?”
I shrug. “He’s ’orking.”
The last time he thought I was in trouble, he dropped everything to come find me. I need him to know I am a self-sufficient, capable, partner.
“C’mon girl.” Rose helps me to my feet. “Time for beddy-bye. ’Night Joey.”
“Goodnight girls. Don’t let the bed bugs bite. And handcuff Sam to the bed if she tries to leave.”
“Yeah, yeah. We got her. See ya in the morning.”
The stairs seem steeper than I remember and it takes me a while to get to the top railing.
My cousin Josi, who had my room for a few months, kept everything pretty much as it was. Most of the stuff belongs to Aunt Marion so I left them. And, while I appreciate Cookie Monster and Dora the Explorer, I didn’t bring them to start my new life with Suds.
Dropping onto the comforter, I kick off my boots, lean back, and don’t even remember falling asleep.
Chapter 9
Suds
Slate should’ve warned me.
My client, Mykola Ponomarenko, likes to talk politics and drink everyone under the table until two in the morning. No wonder he needs a bodyguard. He parties hard and not in the greatest of neighborhoods.
All things considered, tonight could’ve gone a lot worse. A few locals felt the need to get in Mykola’s face but backed off when I opened my jacket, showing off my holstered gun.
Still, I heaved a sigh of relief when the Ukrainian turned in for the night.
Now, resting on my mattress, I open my messages and recall how I tried to text Sam around midnight. She said she fell on the ice but it wasn’t too bad. The bartender had tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to the sign over the top shelf vodkas.
No phones, no service. No kidding.
In the past, I would’ve insisted but not after what she said about being overprotective. She promised to stay out of trouble, but it finds her, not the other way around.
Her first message says to call her back. Later, she sends she fell on the ice but is fine and not to worry.
Now, it’s late and she’s not responding. The last time this happened, she was stuck on the side of the road in a blizzard.
