Chapter 25
“Thanks for the ride.”
“You sure you don’t want me to walk you up?” Rix sounds a little concerned when he watches from the driver’s side of his Suburban as I lean on the gate.
“I’m fine. I promise.”
“I’ll wait until I see the light come on inside.”
The man is quite the gentleman, and I’m still marveling at the insane coincidence that Valentina has not one, but two friends who have lived in the apartment that I rent from Harriet. Neither of them were able to make it to girls’ night, but she promised me they’d be at the next one.
The next one.
I made friends. And it felt really good.
Buzzing from the wine and the feeling of acceptance, I unlock the gate and close it behind me before waving at Rix and heading down the path to the courtyard. As I climb the stairs, I hang on to the railing for dear life so I don’t fall to my death.
I’m not ready to die. I’ve got another girls’ night to go to and a man to track down.
A voice comes out of the shadows when I hit the top, practically sending me into cardiac arrest.
“You hanging with cops now, Tempe?”
“Oh my God!” I screech before I realize it’s Elijah.
“Jesus Christ, woman.”
“You scared the hell out of me!”
“And here I thought you’d be happy to find out that I got a line on your Bronco.”
Excitement flares inside me. “Really?”
“Temperance? You okay? Thought I heard you yell.” It’s Rix’s voice coming through the bars of my gate by the sidewalk.
“That the cop?” Elijah says, keeping his voice low.
“I’m fine,” I call out to Rix. “Saw a rat the size of a cat. I’m heading in now. Thanks!”
I shove my hand into my purse and find my keys. Elijah takes them from my hand when I fail to get the key into the lock on my second try.
“You’re sauced.”
“It’s none of your damn business what I am,” I tell him when I flip on the light.
“It is if you’re going to puke in my car when we go for a ride.”
I turn and look at him. “Where?”
“You want your Bronco back or not?”
“That’s a stupid question.”
“Then we wait for the cop to leave, and we’re out of here.”
I narrow my gaze on him, but there are still two Elijahs in my apartment. “Are you lying to me? Is this some kind of trick?”
“You called me for help. Remember?”
My fuzzy brain attempts to remember what I did five minutes ago, and beyond that is nearly impossible.
“Hold on.” I stumble to the living area and plop ungracefully onto the small settee.
“You’re gonna puke.”
“Shut up. I’m not seventeen anymore and running from the cops. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Elijah leans against the countertop, staring at me. “You did help me chop a car last week ...”
“Shut up.”
“You always were—”
Whatever Elijah is saying fades away as my lids droop and my body grows heavy.
“Dammit, Tempe.”