Harlow’s brow rose at that. “It doesn’t scare me.”
Wes’ head tilted in confusion. “It doesn’t? One defines nightmares usually as unpleasant dreams that cause one to feel strong emotions, such as fear or anxiety.”
“Which I experience neither of,” he said stiffly. “Did Tony not explain that I’m a psycho?”
Wes grimaced. “He did say that... If you don’t think fear is what you are feeling…then what do you think is going on?”
“Isn’t it your fucking job to figure that out?!” Harlow snapped.
If I fucking knew, I wouldn’t fucking be here, he thought, now fully frustrated with all this bullshit.
“Humor me,” Wes said. His smile was back.
“A heart attack.”
“I see.”
Harlow glared when the man wrote something on his notepad.
“Tell me…what happened in your life before these nightmares started?”
He took a deep breath in and counted to ten before letting it out. Tony…deserved to be shot for subjecting him to this—the fucking bastard…
* * *
Foxx laid therein bed on his side staring at his phone. Sighing, he sat up and dialed the number he’d been hesitant to call. The phone rang for a few moments before connecting.
“How can I help you, Foxx? Or is something wrong…” Tony trailed off before practically begging, “Please, tell me nothing’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s…wrong…here,” Foxx said slowly. “I called because I wanted to talk to you about the witnesses on the cases involving the Order of Bloodless Saints.”
Foxx really had not been prepared to hear the dumbass name the group of nutjob priests had come up with. What was it even supposed to mean? Were the priests bloodless, or was it because they literally starved his kind of the blood they needed to function, on top of torturing them to death?
All he knew was that torturing people to death was pretty far away from being a fucking saint, unless… Were the people they were torturing supposed to be the saints? Yeah, it made no fucking sense whatsoever.
“What about them?”
“I want the identities of the vampires who are testifying to be protected…just like mine will be when I testify.”
Tony let out a woosh of air. “Foxx… While I getwhyyou are asking, and it’s not that I am opposed to protecting the victims…however, it won’t be easy to accomplish. The guidelines and protection statutes are just not there. As for you testifying…I don’t know that?—”
“I’m testifying, that isn’t up for debate,” Foxx stated sharply as he cut the man off. “As for the others… I don’t care how hard it will be, it’s our responsibility to do something to protect them, because they will likely be murdered if we do nothing.”
Tony was silent for a moment before he conceded. “You aren’t wrong. I’ll attempt it, Foxx. I can’t promise anything. But with how slow the court system is…maybe we will get something into place before the first trial begins.” The human sighed. “Just…don’t get your hopes up, Foxx. Politics can be even slower than the courts.”
“I don’t care what it takes. Money? Threats? Whatever, I just want them safe.”
“Well, money and threats certainly work with both politicians and humans alike… Why don’t you come down to the office and we can discuss what the first step will be?”
Foxx grimaced. “Can you…come here? Harlow is out, and I’m not up to driving at the moment. He should be back soon… He had some sort of doctor’s appointment.”
Foxx was tired. Annoyingly tired, in fact. He barely had done anything beyond eat, watch a little TV, and drool over Harlow, and yet he felt absolutely exhausted. He really didn’t feel like going out.
Well…that and Harlow had barked at him to stay put and not go wandering. Really, it was ridiculous being told to stay put by someone so much younger than him. Though, Foxx would be staying home… But not because Harlow told him to—like he’d ever—but just becausehewasn’t up to leaving.
“How are you healing?”
“I’m fine…just tired.”
