“Your sister?” he asks, lowering his weapon.
Ignoring him, I turn to the doctor. “Is it infected?”
“No,” she says. “You can leave once it’s finished draining.”
“Where are the auctions?” I nod, hugging Sasha tighter as she keeps her eyes closed.
The doctor’s eyes harden as she looks over her shoulder at Decker like he owes her an explanation. They both have dark hair, hers slightly darker, but their complexions are different, so I’m assuming they’re related as his hazel eyes soften along with his voice when he meets her hard, dark ones. “All done, Morty?”
“Done,” she says in the same cold manner before storming out of the room. He closes the door, rolling a leather-padded stool in front of it when I can’t move. If I had the energy, I’d roll my eyes at the gun still in his hand as he rests his forearms on his thighs. Rude fucking cunt. I’m currently missing a forearm and hand, so he doesn’t need to flaunt that he has two.
“Do you want your sister to hear this?” he asks.
“She knows more about that place than anyone else.”
Sasha snaps her eyes open like a little demon. They’re bright red from her insomnia but her voice is childlike as she whispers, “I let you stay in the shower longer. You were funny when you were pretending to be in a movie.”
He nods slowly, disconcerted with the reminder of The Dollhouse before explaining, “The auctions have a buy-in. You’ll have to wear a mask, but he won’t be on site because of a security concern he hasn’t been able to get rid of.”
“Where is it?”
“The location isn’t revealed until twenty-four hours before.” Sweeping his assessing gaze from the top of my mask-covered head to my dirty boots, he asks, “Will you be able to afford it?”
Fuck. The Three killed me so all of my legal businesses are with Scarlet as the trustee. I don’t think she’ll be in the mood to help me, given our last interaction. The rest of the money I’ve managed to steal was left with Sasha. My little nutcase buries her face into my shoulder to hide her whisper. “Your money is in the car.”
I kiss her temple in gratitude, the movement drawing Decker’s full attention. He softens the longer my lips are on that small patch of her face.
“Money isn’t an issue,” I answer.
“How will you give me Rowan?”
“Easy. He’ll stop hiding to attend his mother’s funeral, so when I kill that bitch, you’ll have your opportunity to kill him.”
“He has amother?”he spits.
“Don’t we all?” I close my eyes as the drugs work through the IV. “I remember you. You kept leaving chocolate bars in my cell when we were going through the plea information.”
“I haven’t been a prosecutor in years.”
“I know. I was eighteen.” Opening my eyes, I look at him as he examines me. I gently lift my mask to see if he recognizes me, to see how far away I am from the innocent eighteen-year-old child who was crying in a cell.
“You killed your brother,” he whispers.
“Wrong, Mr. Prosecutor. Rowan put me there. I have more reasons than you to want him dead.”
“I always thought it didn’t make sense,” he says, lowering the gun. “I’d sat opposite cold-blooded murders more times than I could count at that point, but you weren’t like them. They’re usually arrogant, believing they’re untouchable. In all the police interviews, court proceedings, you weren’t. You even cried when they showed his body to the jury.”
“He was my brother.”
“I still am,”Asher hisses.
“Just because we weren’t close,” I whisper as Sasha’s soft snoring reaches my ear, “doesn’t mean I wanted him dead.”
“Family,” he says gently, with understanding. “Die for them, die with them.”
Sasha has become my pharmacist,keeping track of how many milligrams of ketamine she’s administered and when. Sleeping in a car isn’t the most conducive environment to healing but it’s better than a dusty, abandoned building with rodents.
“It’s been four hours and thirty-seven minutes,” I say when she restarts counting on her fingers.
