“Thought you might.” Danica grinned. “I want him dead.”
My eyes flicked over to Bells, then to Gabby. If either of them noticed my discomfort, they didn’t acknowledge it. “Why not do it yourself?” I countered. “We both know how you make your money, Ms. Rossi.”
“Exactly,” she was quick to reply. “And how I make my money is very dependent on my business connections staying alive. They start popping up dead around me, and suddenly the cash dries up.”
I shrugged a single shoulder. “I’m sure you can make do. You’re a resourceful girl from what I hear.” Survived a bullet to the brain.Resourcefulwas the least of it. I slid the photo back across the desk towards Danica. “Besides, there’s a reason we only take on female clients. We don’t cater to frivolity, just necessity. And your little vendetta, rivalry, whatever this is… isn’t a necessity. Please see yourself out, dear.”
I gestured for Bells to open the door. She side-stepped before swinging it forward with her usual theatric flair. It was a wonderhow she didn’t get made on the job. I suppose it was sort of like putting a vest on a police dog. Their personalities completely shifted when they switched into work mode.
Danica jumped up from her seat, her long brown hair swishing behind her. She stopped short when she reached the threshold, peeking back at me without bothering to turn around. “He has a girl with him, you know. At that place.”
“He’s a healthy young man. I’m sure he’s had plenty of girls with himat that placeover the years.”
“She’s pregnant.” Danica didn’t explain further. Just shoved the photo into Gabby’s hand and walked out, her boots clanking down the hall. The sound died off when she reached the elevator. She stepped inside and pivoted, narrowing her eyes at me until they disappeared behind the metal doors.
Bells watched Danica go. Then she skipped forward and jumped into a chair—the same chair she refused to sit in when I asked her to do it.
Gabby flicked the photo a few times with her index finger before passing it to Bells. “So… who is he?”
Who is he?That was a very loaded question.
“Dr. Adrian Lambert.” I took a deep breath as the moments ticked by like a death knell, the truth weighing on my chest and bringing on the migraine I could feel brewing in the back of my skull. “My son.”
CHAPTER THREE
CASPER
Iwas wrong. Things weren’t more interesting. The last couple of weeks were duller than the lifeless stiff Bossman was poking and prodding with the end of his scalpel like my baby cousin used to move her peas around her dinner plate—a real meat-eater, that one.
“Will you stop that…” he hissed through the panel that separated me from the operating room and all his sterile equipment.
I lifted my hand and tossed the little red ball against the glass again, watching it bounce back into my grip a few seconds later. A bunch of clattering of metal and then the bossman was glaring at me from the other side.
I grinned and aimed for the center of his forehead. Or where it would be if that panel weren’t there.Bounce.Before I could repeat the process, the door was swinging open and I was being dragged towards Bugs’s room.
Could I fight 'em off? More like I could have had his neck turned around the other way in a few seconds. But if there was one thing I learned from growing up within the walls ofBriarwood, it was that broken toys ended up in the trash, where you couldn’t play with 'em anymore.
It was also much more fun to watch him huff and puff his way down the hallway. Big Daddy was getting weak in his old age. All those muscles under his lab coat turning soft and squishy.
I reached out a finger to poke at his ribcage. “Yep. Just as I thought.”
“And what’s that?” he grunted, probably outta both annoyance and the strain my full body weight was putting on those noodle arms.
“You’re gettin’ fat.”
He tossed my ass through the door. “I don’t care what you have to do. Just keep him away from my table.”
Bugs didn’t chance looking up from his screen as our self-appointed warden walked right back out, slamming the door shut behind him.
I jumped to my feet and brushed off my pants. My hand already on the knob when Computer Boy called out to me. “You’re going to land yourself on bedrest again,” he mumbled between keystrokes.
Bedrest.It was a nice way to put it. What he really meant was that Dr. Adrian Lambert was gonna hook me up to a bunch of machines and pump a shit-ton of drugs through my system—not the good kind—for how ever long it took me tolearn my lesson.
Boredom. Being stuck to a bed or chair. That was punishment. And we both knew that was worse than death for some people.For me.
I cracked my neck from side to side at the thought. “I’m going out.”
“Out where?”
