Chapter 22 Diem #2
By the time he settled on the couch, he was in visible pain, sulky, and flushed from a scalding shower. “Got any booze?”
I laughed. “Thought you weren’t an addict.”
“It’s fucking booze. Come on, man. I hurt, and I can’t fill my script. You gotta have something.”
“They gave you plenty of meds at the hospital to last you until morning.”
“Codeine is the weak stuff. A few shots of liquor would take the edge off.”
“Says every addict known to mankind.”
“I’m not a fucking addict.”
“Well, I am, and I don’t have booze in the house.” I regretfully dumped it the other day, but I kept that thought to myself. I’d have given my left nut for just about anything to take the edge off.
It was late, and the apartment was quiet.
The bedroom door was shut, and Echo hadn’t greeted me upon our return, so I assumed she’d gone to bed with Tallus.
I should have called it a night, but this was the first time I had Darcy alone and semi-alert since he’d literally tumbled into the office hours ago.
I needed answers.
Stretched out, he would have taken up the entire length of the couch, but since he was cold and sullen, he’d curled into a blanket with his knees drawn to his chest, leaving the end free. I sat and kicked my feet up on the coffee table.
Darcy watched me, apprehension painting creases across his brow. It would have been easier to avoid conversation and flick on the TV. Tallus could handle it in the morning. But, for whatever reason, I felt better equipped to chat with Darcy than I did with most people.
“Tell me what happened.”
“Now?” he whined.
“Now, or I’m not going to sleep tonight.
I saw that fucker grab you at the café and disappear into the back.
By the time we got there, it was too late.
He’d driven off. Tallus got the license plate, and we were able to run it.
We discovered his real name is Lukyan Andrich, and he’s a real estate mogul worth millions, but that’s as far as we got. What can you tell me?”
Darcy pulled the covers tighter around his face, swaddled like an oversized baby. “He… At the café… He didn’t… It wasn’t, like, kidnapping. He wasn’t mad when he grabbed me. He was… He was, like, happy and shit. Acted like he was glad we ran into each other. Like he didn’t expect it.”
“Bullshit.”
“He said he was proud of me and wanted to show me something. Told me I was worth more than a lowly grunt. No one’s ever been proud of me before.” His lower lip jutted in an unconscious pout.
I didn’t know if I wanted to roll my eyes or sympathize. I did neither.
“I couldn’t run. I had no choice but to get in the car. He would have known something was up otherwise.”
“So you went willingly?”
“I don’t know. I guess. I didn’t object. I was freaked out. He was, like, excited to show me a new opportunity or whatever. He said I could make tons more money. It was easier work. I could get a place of my own.”
Darcy’s cheeks pinked, and he tucked himself into a tighter ball, radiating shame. “He acted super nice, and when he talked about paying me more and letting me do important jobs, I… I actually got excited. He didn’t seem scary or mad.
“Until I remembered the envelope was padded with paper and not real money. The instant he discovered the story was fake, I was screwed. I didn’t know what to do, so I went along with it at first.”
“Where was he taking you?”
Darcy shook his head. “I don’t know. I wasn’t paying close attention.
I was panicking on the inside, but he made it sound like it was somewhere I could crash for the night.
He said tomorrow he would introduce me to a select crew of trusted employees.
He kept praising me for being so honest and trustworthy.
I was freaking out. When I didn’t share his enthusiasm, he looked at me suspicious-like.
“Then, as we were stopped at a red light, he asked me what was wrong. I said nothing, but he didn’t believe me. I could tell. The light turned green, and as he started to drive, he plucked the envelope from the dash and tore it open with his teeth.”
Darcy shivered and drew the covers higher. His feet poked out the bottom, and he curled his toes around one another. I hadn’t given him socks, but I didn’t want to interrupt the flow of his story.
“We weren’t going fast. Twenty. Maybe twenty-five clicks. He was accelerating, so I didn’t have time to think. I just… threw the door open and jumped out.”
He winced as though reliving the tumble. “Tuck and roll, right? That’s what they say on TV. It’s bullshit. I landed on my arm, skidded, tried to stop myself, rolled two or three times, then smashed into the cement curb. It fucking hurt. I thought I was dead.”
“It was stupid.”
“No. Stupid would have been hanging around to find out what he might do when he discovered I’d lied. He had the envelope open. All he needed to do was look inside. I was done for.”
Darcy sniffled and wiped his nose on the blanket. I could have bitched and told him to find a fucking tissue, but I bit my tongue. I owed him patience.
“The fall rattled me, and my entire body hurt. I almost got run over by the cars behind his. I heard tires squeal and horns honk. Traffic came to a stop, so I knew he was coming after me. I didn’t think.
I got to my feet and ran, ducking into the first alley I came to and bolting to the far end.
I weaved through side streets and other alleys.
I must have covered eight blocks before I felt safe enough to stop and look behind me. I lost him.”
“And then you tried to call my office.”
Anger painted his brow. “Yeah. Fuck of a lot of good that did. I couldn’t remember where you lived, and you never gave me your cell. I had that useless card in my wallet. Fuck knows why I kept it. But when I called, I got a machine.”
The rest I figured out on my own. Darcy had hunted me down at the old address, unable to phone the police because of his involvement with the scam, unable to go home since Lukyan knew where he lived.
“You don’t have a clue where he was taking you?”
“No. We were somewhere by the lake. Near Mississauga, I think. I ended up taking a bus to your old address. The one on the card. From there, I looked up your business on my phone, got the new address, and fucking walked the eight blocks instead since I’m flat broke now and couldn’t pay for another bus ride. ”
Darcy whimpered and cradled his arm. “Are you sure you’ve got nothing to drink? I’m in pain.”
I didn’t have alcohol, but I found him a few prescription pain pills left over from the previous year when Tallus had been shot. “I don’t know how long these things last. They might not be as potent anymore, but they should take the edge off.”
He took them greedily.
“Sleep. We’ll reconvene in the morning and figure out where we go from here.”
“He’s going to find me.”
“Not if I find him first.”
I itched for a smoke, but the pack I’d bought the kid the previous day was gone.
Besides, it would be hypocritical of me to cave to cravings after bluntly calling him out on his addictions.
Instead, I shut down the apartment. The weight of Darcy’s gaze—of responsibility—followed my every move.
If I was a different person, one with Tallus’s ability to communicate, I would have reassured him.
I sensed his neediness, and instead of being annoyed by it, I commiserated.
“Good night, kid.”
As I headed for the bathroom, he called out, “Hey, Diem?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”