Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Iris
Standing between the road and my car, in the only place I have full signal out here in the boonies, I make a call.
The bitch answers on the third ring.
“Cell,” I growl her name.
“Hey, Iris.” Her tinkly, upbeat tone grates on my nerves. It usually doesn’t. She’s usually a breath of fresh air, but I’m not in the mood today.
“Don’t you, hey, Iris me.”
“Is something wrong?”
“I dunno. Why don’t you tell me?”
“Is she dead?”
“Is who dead?” I test, knowing exactly who she’s referring to, but I need her to spell it out.
“You know who, Iris. Is the evil bitch dead?”
Yep, this is about Penelope. Dee dumped her carcass over the cliff. She is very much worm food, returning to the source of life.
I hook a hand on my hip and hiss, “Yes.”
Cell squeals, and I pull the phone away from my ear. “Ya! Praise the baby Jesus, that doesn’t exist! Hallelujah!”
Even though I shouldn’t be happy she’s happy, I smother a smile. We don’t have time for her positivity. “Cell. Knock it off,” I growl. “I almost killed him. Well, Dee almost did.”
She sobers. “Who?”
“Dark.”
“Whoopsie,” the bitch sings.
I stomp my foot on the rocks. “Cell!” There is no whoopsie about it.
“What? It was an accident. I promise. How was I supposed to know he’d take a job with her father?
I put you onto Harold before Dark made that choice.
It’s not my fault he got involved with those people.
And if you ask me, he shouldn’t have done it in the first place.
His loyalty is with us. Not that bitch. But he chose her, didn’t he?
Who am I to play with fate, or destiny, or whatever it is that runs the powers at be … that be? Oh. You know what I mean.”
“Uh. Hm. Well, the powers that be have decided that once he’s able to walk again, he’s coming home, so you’d better find him a place to stay.” And that’s that. They can take care of him. He should be with his family.
Given Dark’s involvement with Harold and his marriage to Penelope, he can’t return to the city.
He is gone. Dead but not dead. His old life no longer exists.
He has to disappear, or there will be far too many questions and accusations for which he isn’t gonna have answers, no matter how good an actor he is.
Before we, well, I, planned the kidnapping and hinted at wanting a weekend away at the Hamptons, I knew Harold’s wife would be in Europe.
Whether or not she’s a good person matters little to me.
She’s inheriting his money, and should she decide to keep his trafficking empire afloat, I’ll come back for her.
But something tells me Mrs. Grant will find other things to invest her money in that don’t involve body parts and murder.
Cell gasps. “Iris. No.”
Listen, I get she doesn’t want Dark coming back, given her role in this mess, but she’s part of the problem.
“I’m hanging up now. Figure it out, Cell.”
Not giving this woman a chance to talk me out of it, I hang up. When she tries to call back, I turn off my phone and toss it onto the passenger seat of my car before making my way back to the hunting cabin, where Dark is currently doped up on drugs.
Dee’s sitting with him when I return.
“He’s a dick,” she hisses, rushing out of the room to leave me to deal with the high biker.
“Damn, you’re hot,” he slurs, blinking slowly as if he’s having a hard time focusing.
Ignoring Dark’s compliment, I sit on the stool and do a whole lot of nothing except think.
For hours, he slips in and out of consciousness.
I give him sips of water and small bites of food whenever he’s alert enough to swallow.
The threadbare blanket and pillow Dee brought provide little comfort, but I can’t move him.
Not yet. When he needs to use the restroom, I hold an empty water bottle down there so he can urinate into it.
It’s all very clinical—a nurse and her patient.
One day blends into the next, and by the third, he’s developed a fever and can’t stop sweating. His teeth chatter uncontrollably as his body fights off an infection.
“What do we do?” Dee asks from the doorway as Dark writhes on the dirty floor, moaning.
That’s a damn good question. We’ve never done this before.
“I’ll be back.” Patting my sister on the shoulder, I leave her to keep an eye on him while I do the only thing that should work. Should, being the operative word.
Changing into a normal T-shirt and shorts, I put on one of my many wigs, brush it, apply a generous amount of deodorant since I haven’t showered in days, and return to my car.
In town, I park outside the coffee shop and use their Wi-Fi to search for a broad-spectrum antibiotic that might help Dark. Sure, it’s not foolproof, but I won’t take him to a hospital, and I refuse to let him die. So I gotta do whatever I gotta do, even if that means breaking a few more laws.
To bide my time, I drink tea at the coffee shop and order one to go for Dee.
I have dinner at the sushi restaurant, where I make small talk with the owners.
As soon as the streetlights come on, I have an hour before the local mom-and-pop pharmacy closes.
When it does, I use the skills my father taught us to break a small window in the back, by the alley, to get in, find what I need, and get out. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.
I’m back to the cabin in record time, with a lantern I may have also stolen from the pharmacy. Shhh. You saw nothing.
Pointing a flashlight at the ground, Dee paces Dark’s room like a caged animal. As soon as I shut the door behind me to keep the critters out, she makes a break for it. The door swings roughly on its hinges, whining with abuse, before it slams shut.
Rolling my eyes at my sister’s dramatics, I unpack the bag of goodies I brought and do what I gotta do to get Dark better.
Pressing a Tylenol, also stolen, and the antibiotic against his lips, I urge him to open up.
Through swollen eye slits, Dark watches me as I tilt his head up to take the pills.
Once they’re on his tongue, I offer him a sip of bottled water to wash them down.
He chokes as he swallows but recovers quickly.
“Thank you,” he rasps as I return his head to the ground, and he promptly passes back out.
For hours, I watch him sleep. The shivers eventually dissipate, and his teeth stop chattering. The rise and fall of his chest brings me an odd sense of peace.
When my eyelids grow heavy, I redress his wounds with fresh bandages from the bag.
Okay. So I stole more than I said. He needs it, and I’m not some good, well-mannered, law-abiding woman.
Sure, I wrote an apology note to the pharmacy owners on a scrap of paper.
It’s not their fault that I didn’t have a prescription and decided to go on a quick shopping spree when I was already there.
At least I said I was sorry, and I mean it.
I am sorry. I’ve been sorry about a lot of stuff lately.
Not Harold or Penelope dying. That doesn’t bother me at all. At least I have that going for me.
Collecting Dark’s discarded bandages, I set the small pile outside the door to be burned later, once I’m comfortable leaving him. Until then, I prop my back against the wall close to him, in case he needs me, and stifle a yawn just as the sun begins to rise.
Catching a catnap should be okay.
Fifteen minutes.
That’s all I need.
A little… snooze.