A few seconds later, Adam made a strange gurgling sound. His eyes turned bloodshot in seconds, and he began to wheeze. I widened my eyes at him. I'd watched him put the poison on Lucian's plate. How could it have possibly ended up on his own?
He lurched from his chair and ran to the sink, retching the whole way. Thankfully, he made it to the sink that had a garbage disposal in the bottom before emptying his stomach.
I rubbed his back, trying not to act too familiar with him as I comforted him. He kept throwing up until there couldn't have possibly been anything left in his stomach. He flipped on the water and buried his face under the faucet, washing out his mouth and letting the water cool his heated skin.
"I'm going to go home," he whispered after I handed him a towel to dry off. "I don't feel good."
"Of course," I said. I wanted to go with him and take care of him. I had no idea what poison he'd used or if it would cause any lasting damage to him.
Lucian stood behind us, bouncing from one foot to another, worried about his friend. "What happened, Adam?"
He took one of Adam's arms and I took the other as we helped him to the front door. "Luc," I said. "Walk him down to his house. I'll get rid of the food. Something in it made him ill. We'd better not try to eat it."
"Good call, Connie. Be right back."
A few minutes later, Michael popped into the kitchen just as I finished scraping all the food into the trash. "Lucian is on his way back," he said. "I'm going to get Gabe's help with this. I don't think this poison could kill me, but holy fuck it hurts." He was half bent over with his arm around his waist.
"Okay, go. But first, give me the poison," I said. He hesitated, but I arched an eyebrow and held out my hand. "You and Gabe can't get the job done. I'm going to try."
He sighed. "I don't like it, but it’s fine. Here."
He pressed the small vial into my hand. I held it up to the light. Still about half full. Good.
When I looked down, he was gone, and I heard the front door opening.
"How is Adam?" I asked.
Lucian shook his head. "I've never heard of a case of food poisoning setting in that fast," he said. "More than likely he had a stomach bug already." He shrugged off his suit jacket.
"Well, I'll wipe down the kitchen and make us a quick bowl of ramen." We didn't eat the packaged noodles often since they were incredibly bad for us and we tried to stay somewhat healthy, but we kept a few packs on hand for quick meals.
"Sounds great, thanks." He ruffled Jellybean's head. The pooch had been sitting in the corner of the kitchen, observing the hoopla. "Come on Jelly, let's go change clothes."
He headed upstairs to get out of his suit and remembered to grab the suit coat he'd taken off and thrown over the back of a kitchen chair. I grinned at his consideration.
Ten minutes and one microwaved meal later, I poured half the poison in Lucian's and half in mine. That way whichever bowl he ended up with, he'd get the poison. Foolproof.
And to keep myself from getting it, I simply wouldn't eat.
Luc came back down in his jogging pants. "I want to go run after dinner; you want to come?" he asked. "Jellybean needs a good run."
"I'd love to." I smiled serenely at him and indicated the bowls on the counter. "Help yourself."
"Man, I love these noodles." He grabbed his bowl and set it on the table, a little too close to the edge. "Let me grab some hot sauce."
As he turned to get the bottle out of the refrigerator, his butt bumped the table, and it jarred the bowl of noodles. They went flying onto the floor with a crash. The bowl broke and noodles and broth went everywhere.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" I asked.
Lucian looked at me in surprise. "It's okay, Conn. It's just noodles. I can eat a sandwich." He grabbed the paper towels and got up the bigger pieces of the bowl.
"Grab my bowl and eat, Luc." I pulled the mop out of the utility closet. "I'll finish this. I had a big lunch anyway. I may just have a big salad." No way I'd be eating anything from our house tonight.
"You sure?" He held the bowl out. "I don't mind a salad either."
"Positive. Eat." I nudged the bowl toward him and set to mopping, as I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He set the bowl securely in the center of the table and turned again to get hot sauce.
My jaw dropped as I watched Jellybean's nose lift into the air. That damn dog had been with us for several weeks now, and not one time had he ever stolen food from the table. Before I could gather a yell in my throat to shoo him away, he jumped up onto the table and inhaled the bowl full of noodles and poison in seconds.
