“Bag.”
Riley gestures to my side and I hand it over. “When I get that back, everything better still be in there.”
“Trust me, darling. I earn enough that I don’t need to be a thief.”
A smart aleck remark immediately pops onto my lips, but a glance at the PI’s set expression tells me he’s not in the mood to appreciate it. He searches the bag, finding only my phone, and returns it with a grunt.
We’re fifteen minutes into the drive when I guess where we’re headed. Trent frowns out the window as we divert into the north side of the city, turning again to follow alongside the train tracks.
The warehouse.
I’m not overjoyed to be proven right, but at least the foreknowledge gave me a few minutes to prepare. As I stumble from the backseat onto the cracked and weed-strewn pavement, my eyes inexorably travel to the dark outline of the storage shed.
Light shines through the door. A moving shadow tells me people are already inside.
“Are you okay?” Trent asks and I blink up at him in the darkness.
The musty stink of baked yeast crawls into my nostrils and I switch to breathing through my mouth. The smell triggers a slew of vivid memories from the last time we were here, making my stomach roll with nausea. After a second, I mumble, “I’m fine.”
Five points for lying.
“Inside,” Riley barks, striding towards the door to hold it open.
“What a gentleman,” I mutter under my breath, then stop short.
Caylon stands against the far wall, holding the side of his head. Blood drips through his fingers, running down his wrist to disappear inside his sleeve. When he sees me, his eyes widen, then his gaze drops back to the stained concrete floor.
But I quickly lose interest when I see Zach sitting with his back against the wall. His must have been the shadow I saw. He turns his head to the side and spits out blood, then grins at me with crimson flecked teeth.
“What’d Riley do to you?”
“Riley?” Caylon coughs out a laugh that quickly dissolves into a groan as he sways, gripping his wounded head tighter. “If you want the person responsible for injuring us, look no farther than your precious boyfriend. Fucking psycho.”
“You deserved it.”
“Oh, yes. God forgive me for not remaining one hundred percent servile until the end of time. How dare I want to stop the next catastrophe from taking place?”
“There’s no catastrophe. You’re a fantasist.”
“Guys,” Trent says in an urgent whisper. “Perhaps concentrate.”
“On what?” Zach spits out a mouthful of blood again. “Let the PI have his fun, so we can all go home to bed.”
I crouch beside him, scanning his beautiful face for damage. A new split in his eyebrow is already swelling his eye into something grotesque and the bruising on his right cheek suggests that’s the side cut to hell on his teeth. “You look like shit.”
His lips spread in a wide smile, then he winces and covers his mouth with one hand. “Split lip.”
“You know I’m only with you for your body. It’s not fair to go wrecking it without prior consultation.”
“But I only did it so you could kiss everything better.”
“Where’d Riley get the gun?”
Zach’s expression changes to alarm. “What?”
I push a finger against his lips, frowning as the PI walks farther into the room, then whispering, “Where were you keeping it?”
He shakes his head, glancing at Caylon with narrowed eyes.
