Such bad timing.
That was the thing. The whole world, every little detail of every little thing that took place was all about timing. Made the difference between life and death ... and everything in between.
Her life was over and she was philosophizing. Oh, yes, she was totally, totally screwed.
She sat up a little straighter behind the wheel. But the best thing to do when being screwed was to screw right back. Those rich, powerful bastards had better watch out.
She wasn’t done yet.
Not by a long shot.
40
8:30 p.m.
Dane opened his eyes and stared at the water-stained ceiling.
He tried to raise up but his head was spinning so hard he had to lay back down. Damn. He was messed up big time.
Why the hell had he snorted that last line of coke?
Bile rushed into his throat. He rolled to his side and puked until there was nothing left to come up.
Dane spit out the bitter taste and tried again to push himself into an upright position.
“Damn.” The room tilted.
He needed to go to the bathroom, but the room wouldn’t stop moving.
What time was it? Maybe food would help.
He struggled to focus his fuzzy gaze on the clock on the bedside table. He frowned. What was that?
His hand wobbled as he reached out to pick up the bottle. He turned it around in his hand. Prescription bottle?
Where had that come from?
Maybe it was the medicine he needed to feel better. That would be good.
On the floor next to the table was another bottle. This one bigger. He picked it up. Tequila. Now he was really confused. When did he buy that?
“Dane.”
His head whipped around. What the hell?
He blinked. The image split into two.
“Dane, you have to listen to me.”
What wasshedoing here?
“It’s time for you to do the right thing.”
“What?” Damn. He wished she would be still. She kept turning into two people. Shit. That would be bad. One was hell on earth.
“Now, Dane,” she urged. “You know what you have to do.”
He stared at the prescription bottle in his hand.
