Page 41 of Pretty Nightmare

I’m so fucked up—I know I’m fucked up. I am at that point of fucked-upness that I’m seeing things almost sober and for a moment I actually want to bitch Indie out for not being able to break free of Donovan’s bear hug.

I taught her that move. I know I did.

“McKay!” Donovan is screaming my name as he drags Indie up the porch. “Help me!”

I look at Nathan. But just for a moment. Fuck him. And then I carefully make my way up the porch steps and help Donovan drag Indie inside.

The last thing I see is Adam placing Maggie in his truck. Then the screen door slaps closed and Donovan shoves Indie face down on the dark-wood floors and sits on top of her.

“Here!” He throws something at me.

I feel several hundred seconds behind the action, so I just watch the thing hit me in the chest, then fall to the floor at my bare feet.

“Stick that fucking thing in your leg! Right now, McKay! She drugged us! She fucking drugged us!”

Indie is screaming beneath him like a wild animal caught in a steel trap. Gnashing her teeth like she’s about to chew off a foot if that’s what it takes to escape.

I bend down, manage to pick the syringe up—even though my fingers are tingly and numb—and just look at it.

“Do it!” Donovan is screaming. He’s got a syringe too. And I watch him demonstrate. Sort of. He pulls the cap off with his teeth and positions the plunger in his hand. “Sit on her legs, McKay! Help me!”

I sigh. First he wants me to jab myself with a needle. Now he wants me to sit on Indie. But sitting on Indie seems much easier than figuring out how to stick myself with that needle. So I sit on her legs and Donovan scoots his body up so he’s got her shoulders pinned to the floor, and then, carefully, he injects something into the bulging vein in her neck.

Indie is growling at him.

And that’s how she goes down.

She slips into unconsciousness growling at him.

The next thing I know, Donovan is jabbing me in the inner arm with the other needle. But I don’t go down. I come up. And everything gets just a little bit clearer.

Donovan snaps his fingers in front of my face. “You there?”

“I’m here,” I croak. “I thought you said the leg.”

“Fuck the leg. Takes too long. But you’re not really equipped to give yourself an intravenous inject—never mind.” He shakes his head. “I think we have a dead body in the garden. That’s way above my paygrade. So can you pretty fuckin’ please go take care of Nathan St. James?”

He says all this with a much calmer voice then he did when we’re still talking about Indie.

I look at the screen door. I’m still sitting on top of Indie’s legs. And I vaguely remember Nathan dying in a pool of blood.

“McKay!” Donovan screams it. Right up next to my fuckin’ ear. “Pull your fuckin’ shit together! I need to take care of Indie. You need to go take care of that fuckin’ body out there.”

I nod. Because this is a job I’m good at. Then take a deep breath and feel markedly better than I did just a few seconds ago. I awkwardly get to my feet and as soon as I’m off Indie’s legs, Donovan is dragging her down the hallway.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“This sedative won’t last long. I need to get her into the office and give her something else.”

“That didn’t answer my question, Donovan.”

He has stopped dragging Indie and is now hunched over her body and breathing hard, just outside Adam’s office. His gaze meets mine with a glare you don’t often find in Donovan’s eyes. “You do your job, I’ll do mine.”

And then he continues his job and I watch Indie’s legs disappear inside the office.

A moment later, the door slams.

I consider if the dead body can wait. I should go see what Donovan is doing to Indie.