40. Chapter 40
Two more buses blow by us, one not even bothering to slow down. A third pulls over. The driver opens the doors and stares at us.
“Spot!” I call and he runs to my side, his tongue lolling. Lavender is standing beside me, swaying for some reason.
“Dogs aren’t allowed,” the bus driver says.
“My friend’s blind.” I indicate Lavender. “Spot’s her seeing-eye dog.”
The bus driver looks from Lavender to Spot. “Where’s his harness?”
Good question. “Where’s his harness?”
“No,” the bus driver says. “I asked the question, you answer it.”
I turn to Lavender. “Where’s Spot’s harness?”
She doesn’t answer, just cocks her head like she’s hearing subtitles.
I lean into her and whisper, “You’re blind, not deaf. Thus you can speak.”
“I know,” Lavender whispers back. “But I don’t know where his harness is, so I’m pretending I’m deaf too.”
“And how does that help me?” I’ve raised my voice now because I’m pretty sure the jig is up.
She doesn’t reply.
The driver starts to close the doors, but Spot squeezes through them before they fully shut. Then the bus pulls out.
I slap at my head in frustration. “Lavender! Spot got on the bus!”
“I saw!” she replies. “Why’d she let him on without a harness?”
“Not relevant!” I exclaim.
“Relax. We can find Spot later, and besides, we’ll be able to catch a bus easier without him.”
“Holy. And people accuse me of being insensitive.”
She throws her hands in the air. “What else are we gonna do? Grab a taxi and tell the driver to follow the bus?”
Listen to her, Ximina, Pops says. Spot’s like a boomerang. He always comes back.
He’s right.
A couple strolls up and stops at the shelter. I slide behind Lavender to hide the blood on my shirt. They’re involved in a serious case of PDA so they barely notice us.
I look at them, look at Lavender, then look at the approaching bus. I miss Reaper. I want Reaper. I feel like crying.
Lavender senses my mood. “Come on X, we’ll get to Hook’s where we’ll be safe. Then we’ll find your boyfriend.”
The bus pulls up and we let PDA couple on first, then Lavender, then me close behind her. Lavender hands the driver the $20 bill. He looks at it. “I can’t make change.”
“Why not?” Lavender demands.
I grab her arm as I sidle past her. “We don’t need change,” I mutter as I slide into a seat.
She plops down next to me. “It’s the principle of the thing, Mina. Why can’t they give change?” She’s loud enough for the passengers close by to hear. She looks at a couple across the aisle. “Am I right or am I right?”
I elbow her. “Might be good if you didn’t attract attention to us right now. Remember we’re in the process of fleeing our kidnappers.”
She snorts. “They’re not going anywhere.”
“The guys we locked up at the warehouse are the henchmen,” I hiss. “There’s more where they came from.”
“Right.” She lapses into silence, which gives me some time to think. Of course I think about Reaper.
As long as I’m in motion, I’m able to manage my emotions. But now, sitting in the bus, which is filling up at every stop, I feel grief. I know it’s likely he’s fine. I heard him groan, saw him breathe. And I’m fine too if one doesn’t count the mother of a headache I have. Which wasn’t throbbing too badly until I thought about it. I rub my temples, then realize tears are sliding down my cheeks.
“Are you crying?” Lavender says softly to me.
I swipe at the wetness. “Maybe.”
“Well, don’t.” She takes my hand and squeezes it. “You know how emotional I get. You start crying, I’ll start crying. We’re supposed to be keeping our heads down.”
“I didn’t know I was crying,” I tell her. “I was thinking about Reaper and then the tears just slid out.”
Lavender furrows her forehead. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know, right?” But the conversation and the fact that Lavender is gripping my hand like the friend she once was makes me feel better.
Finally, the bus pulls over at the stop in front of Hook’s. The same stop Reaper hauled me away from the first time we met. “I’m gonna start crying again.”
“You do that,” Lavender says as she rises. “I’ll slap you.”
Enough said. I follow her out. The relief is short-lived because the moment we step inside Hook’s, Reaper’s lapdog of a manager barrels over to us. “I fucking told you not to set foot in here again!” Bannock’s stabbing a finger at me, standing too close.
“I’m looking for Reaper!” I shout back. “Maybe you didn’t get the memo, but I’m his girlfriend now.”
He laughs like a Bond villain. “You’re fuckin’ insane is what you are!”
Lavender gets between us. “Step back mister. Mina’s not having a good day. She was in a car accident, kidnapped, and look!” She waves her hands at me. “She’s a disaster. Blood all over her.”
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “You don’t have to call attention to my appearance.”
Bannock pauses as he peers at me. “Are you hurt?”
“It’s not her blood,” Lavender exclaims impatiently. “It’s the guy’s blood.”
“What guy?” He’s attracting the attention of the few customers in the bar.
“The guy I shot!”
“Settle down,” I tell Lavender. “He doesn’t need to know the minutia.”
It’s too late to save her, because Bannock twists her arm around her back and shoves her up against the wall. “Don’t you fuckin’ move,” he snarls as he starts searching her.
“Holy,” I shout as I grab his arm. “She doesn’t have the gun anymore.”
Lavender is struggling but not that hard. “I threw it in a barrel.” She smiles broadly at him over her shoulder.
“What the fuck is going on?” a dead voice freezes us.
Bannock lets Lavender go and swings around; Lavender pulls at her blouse as she straightens up; I turn towards Eight. None of us speak.
Eight measures us up with his eyes, then they stop on me. “What are you doing here?” His voice is full of hostility and mistrust.
“I’m looking for Reaper,” I snap, jutting my chin.
He glances at my blouse, my hair. “Jesus fuck.” Then he says to Bannock, “I’ve got this in hand.”
Bannock nods, gives me a Darth Vader death glare, and stalks off.
Eight turns back to me. “Reaper’s gone to make the exchange, you for the—” He glances at Lavender.
“Coke,” she finishes helpfully.
“Reaper’s okay then.” Warmth seeps into me, then tears flood my eyes. Hell and damnation. I swipe at them then throw a quick apology to God, mostly because I haven’t thought of him in a while.
Eight’s eyes soften for a fraction of a second, then harden again. “You should’ve stayed put.”
His attitude helps settle me. “Because I’m a mind reader. How was I supposed to know what was going on outside my prison cell?”
Lavender jumps in. “Yeah. We were mushrooms. We had to save ourselves.”
Eight blinks at her. “Mushrooms?”
“Kept in the dark. You know. That’s how they grow.”
He jerks his head towards the bar. “Sit and stay.”
I open my mouth to retort, but Lavender’s already dragging me away. “Good idea. I’m parched.”
I climb up on a barstool, keeping a close eye on Eight who’s standing a few feet away, making a phone call.
“It’s Eight,” he says when it’s picked up. “Girl’s here.”
He listens to whoever’s on the other end. A long time. So long, I know it’s not Reaper he’s talking to. Gotta be Hangman.
He takes another step away and turns his back as Lavender orders a draft beer. “We can’t pay right now,” she tells the bartender. “The bus driver wouldn’t make change.”
“Reaper will cover it,” I say.
She smiles broadly. “Sounds like you got a good one.” She lifts her beer mug. “Here’s to him.”
The bartender turns to me. “What’ll you have?”
“Orange juice,” I reply thinking of Brielle. “Jess is pregnant, so all we can drink is orange juice.”
“Jess?”
“Yeah, Rocky’s old lady.”
“Cool,” Lavender says at the same time I hear Eight say, “Yeah. Got it.”
A pause and then, “I’ll call Reaper.”
He hangs up and turns to me just as the bartender sets my orange juice on the bar top.
He looks at us. “Bring the drinks with you.”
“Where we going?” I say as I take a swallow. Cold and pulpless, exactly the way I like it.
“Kitchen.” He stops and murmurs to Bannock, then turns his back on all of us and walks away expecting us to follow. I’m not big on being ordered around, so I cross my arms and stare at his retreating back.
Lavender, however, picks up her beer and follows Eight like she’s a cadet in the army and he’s her commanding officer. At the door to what I assume is the kitchen, she pauses and turns back to me. “Coming?”
I roll my eyes, grab my orange juice, and follow her.
Bannock rolls his eyes and follows me.
The kitchen is kind of what Hell’s Kitchen looks like and the chef could give Gordon Ramsey a run for his money in terms of scowls. He’s wider and shorter than Ramsey and a little light on the top in terms of hair. There’s a couple of other men chopping stuff up in silence.
“Hi!” I say brightly to all three. “What’s for breakfast?” My stomach growls, which it tends to do when it’s in a restaurant. Also, I haven’t been fed for hours.
“Good idea,” Lavender murmurs, then throws a sultry look faux-Ramsey’s way.
“Food service doesn’t start until eleven and we don’t do breakfast,” he replies without inflection.
I shrug. “I’m easy. Whatever you got on special.”
He looks over my head to Bannock. “Why are these two in my kitchen?”
“To eat,” I say, resisting the urge to add a ‘duh’.
Lavender nods to support me.
“You’re not here to eat.” Eight turns towards the back. “Follow me.”
I’m still clutching my orange juice, so I take a sip to buy time. Why are we in the kitchen? Why won’t they feed us? Who put Eight in charge?
Okay, the last question is unnecessary, but the first two are legitimate.
Lavender brushes by me and follows Eight. “I’ll be back,” she says to faux-Ramsey, pretending she’s the terminator.
“Go,” Bannock says as he nudges me in the small of the back.
I turn to him. “You touch me again, I’ll bite your arm off.” There’s no love lost between the two of us and I’m not going to warm up to him now just because he’s some important guy at Hook’s. By the surliness on his face, he’s not exactly warming up to me either.
He grabs the orange juice out of my hand and thumps it down on the counter, then picks me up and throws me over his shoulder.
“Hey!” I yell, punching him in the head hard enough to make him stagger.
“Fuck!” he yells back. “Hold still!”
I kind of think he’s never carried an unwilling woman over his shoulder before because he seems unprepared for the next punch to his head and the hard kick to his stomach. When he loosens his hold, I slip far enough down to kick him in the family jewels.
He drops me on his ass and cups his Preciouses.
“What the fuck?” Eight says as he returns to the room without Lavender.
“Where’s Lavender?” I growl as I climb to my feet and dust my butt off.
“In the back,” he says, then motions with his head.
I follow him because first, that’s where Lavender is, and second, because Eight is Reaper’s friend (I think) and therefore, trustworthy. I realize my mistake when I hear pounding and yelling from inside the cooler.
I stop dead in my tracks. “Did you put Lavender in the cooler?”
“Yes.” At least he’s honest.
He drags me over to the cooler, then opens the door and shoves me into Lavender’s arms. He’s so fast, I don’t have time to punch him.
“You putz!” I shout as he slams the door in my face.
I turn to Lavender. “Tell me you didn’t just follow him in here.”
Lavender looks sheepish. “I might be a little too trusting.”
“You think?”
She nods, then takes a swallow of her beer. “On the bright side, there’s food here.”