42. Dingo
FORTY-TWO
DINGO
The phone rang on the tabletop as Coyote and I sat in the commons of our dorm, waiting for Jackal to let us know where the fuck he’d gone. Last we heard, he told us he was following her, and not to worry, but like, how do you not worry when someone sends a cryptic message like that?
It was Jackal, for fuck’s sake.
I picked up the cellphone and didn’t even bother to look at the caller ID as I brought it to my ear and started shouting down the receiver.
“It’s about fucking time, Jackal. We’ve only been waiting to hear from you for hours.”
A feminine voice on the other end made my blood run cold. “I’m not Jackal, but I wouldn’t want to be him, either. Seems like someone is in trouble.”
Fuck.
“Sorry, Lilly,” I murmured as Coyote’s attention turned to my conversation. “He’s off running the town, and he hasn’t checked in, so we’re a little on edge.”
“How convenient,” she mused, her voice steady on the other end. “I’m just calling to ask if you all saw anything suspicious at the party tonight. Maybe someone who didn’t belong?”
I thought back and shook my head. “Nobody stands out, why?”
“Someone was in my quarters. Rummaging through my files.” She paused, her voice level and hard. “In the files for your crew, from the looks of it.”
My blood ran cold. No. Surely not. I’ll ask Jackal when he gets back, but I’m not sure there was anyone there that wasn’t supposed to be.” I pretended to mull it over, already knowing damn well in my heart who’d been in that office, looking through files. “Do you know what file they were looking for?”
“Oddly enough, no,” she said slowly, her tone even. If she did know, she wasn’t talking. “There were a few misplaced ones, and none obviously missing, so there’s no telling if they even found what they were looking for.”
“Strange,” I agreed, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole. “Let us know if you need any help.”
“And you let me know when that buddy of yours comes home.” The line went dead, and I sagged in my seat, a cold sweat breaking out on my brow.
“Problem?” Coyote asked, his voice rough, worry tinting his growl.
“Ivy’s missing, Jackal is AWOL, and someone broke into our records in Lilly’s office tonight during the party.”
I watched realization dawn on him as his eyes darkened and he stopped breathing momentarily. “I left her alone,” he murmured, wringing his hands and pacing the floor like a caged tiger. “My fault. Should have known better.”
Just then, the door opened, and there in the doorway stood Jackal, a very ragged Ivy on his back like some sort of fucked-up ragdoll. She clung to his neck, her legs around his waist, and he trodded in, dragging water and pink-tinted droplets into the room with him.
He set her down on the couch, and she curled in on herself, staring ice in his general direction as he shuffled back over to shut the door.
My attention turned to her. “What happened to you?”
She jerked her chin in Jackal’s direction as he disappeared into his room. “He left my brand new signed Babe Ruth bat in the rain in some dingy back alley and wouldn’t even let me go back for it.”
So she was back to her bratty ways. Peachy. “Oh, that’s . . . unfortunate.”
“Yeah, what a shame. Seems Ivy gets a little forgetful when you give her a good dicking down.” Jackal emerged from his room and threw a towel in her direction, his eyes cutting to her lap, where she wrung her hands nervously. “Dry yourself off before you get sick.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, her voice lower than usual when she and Jackal got into it. In fact, everything about her was more subdued.
My curiosity intensified.
“What’s up with you two?”
“Nothing—”
“I fucked her brains out in the rain because she went on a killing spree on Main St.”
Well, those were two very different and wildly distinct and interesting answers.
“Uhm, come again?”
Coyote had moved across the room and picked the towel out of Ivy’s lap, his hands setting to work drying her hair. She let him, which was strange but not entirely out of character. I noticed his leash still dangled from his collar, and chuckled to myself at the absolute single-mindedness of the man.
How long would he leave that fucking thing on himself before he realized he could take it off?
“She was off her rocker, man, came out of the bank dripping blood everywhere, and I followed her, and she just started swinging on any asshole she passed who was asking for it.” Jackal swung an imaginary bat in the air, whistling for comedic effect. “She took out two dudes before I stopped her, and then it was a fight?—”
“He forced himself on me because I wouldn’t tell him?—”
She stopped like she’d hit a mental wall and clammed up, her face flushing as she stared resolutely at the floor. I sensed we’d hit a payload and frowned.
“Tell him what?”
Jackal chuckled. “Yeah, Ivy, what won’t you tell me?”
“None of your damn business,” she spat from beneath the towel, growling under her breath .
“She was gone, Dingo,” Jackal muttered, his voice low and pained. He was like a whining, kicked dog as he watched her let Coyote tend to her. “There was nothing in her eyes but emptiness. She was on a one-way track to suicide by cop.”
Coyote’s hands on her head stilled as he stared down at her, his eyes filling with emotions I didn’t even think he understood completely. “You wanted . . . to die?”
Somehow, he was blaming himself for her, for this, and I’d be damned if I let her silence confirm his fears.
“You’d better start talking, or I’ll wring it out of you myself.” I made to lunge for her, but Coyote was faster, yanking her up and over the back of the couch as I faceplanted where her ass had been moments ago. “Dammit, Coyote, bring her back here.”
“No.”
He dragged her into the kitchen, setting her on the counter so he could dry off as much of her as he could reach. I gave up on her and let my attention drift to the bag in Jackal’s hand. “What’s with the backpack?”
His chin jerked toward the kitchen. “Hers. No idea what’s in it.” I watched his lips curl into a grin, and got a feeling of worry in the pit of my stomach. “Why don’t we find out what’s in it.”
He barely touched the zipper before a flying Ivy sailed over the counter, hurdled the couch, and landed on top of him on the floor, her hands clutching the bag with all the desperation of an addict in the depths of withdrawal having their drugs taken from them.
“Don’t you dare touch my things,” she spat, her voice shaky and wild. Her eyes were slightly unfocused as she stared down at the bag in her hands, not moving off Jackal as she zipped it all the way back shut and sighed in relief.
Now, I really wanted to know what was inside that fucking bag.
Before I could make a move, Coyote was on her heels, lifting her off of Jackal’s prone form, grunting as she kicked and flailed and panic filled her eyes.
“Put me down, you animal! Let go! This is outrageous?—”
“Shut up,” he growled, his eyes narrowed as they fell on the bag in her grip. “Talk.”
She refused to meet his gaze, even when his fingers cupped her chin and dragged her to face him. “I won’t.”
This time, her voice lacked most of the conviction it’d possessed when the fight started.
Something in her was breaking, and when it shattered, I was worried there’d be no putting it back together.
Considering I was pretty sure I knew what had set off this catalyst.
“You know,” Coyote whispered, his hands shaking as he raised them to grip her by the shoulders.
She froze like a deer in headlights, the color draining from her face as her gaze rose to meet his. “Yes,” she said simply, the bag falling to the floor. “I know.”
And then, just like that, things all fell apart, and she slumped against Coyote, a fiendish cackle erupting from her lips, unending and more unhinged by the second.
She barely stopped to breathe between laughs. She didn’t move. Only her chest moved up and down as she sucked in a breath and kept cackling into Coyote’s shoulder as he lifted her into his arms and carried her into his room.
I didn’t breathe until I heard the sound of water running, and only then did I turn to the asshole on the floor.
“Talk.”