18. If someone doesn’t bring me neutralizer in the next five minutes, there will be bodies stashed in the nearest stairw
EIGHTEEN
If someone doesn’t bring me neutralizer in the next five minutes, there will be bodies stashed in the nearest stairwell.
If Quinn, Perky, and Nilman sang another note of a children’s song, I would become a serial killer and a widow at the same time.
Easing the SUV into a parking spot at the station, I killed the engine and regarded my passengers with narrowed eyes.
Of the three, Nilman seemed the most sober.
I turned my glare to him. “So help me, if someone doesn’t bring me neutralizer in the next five minutes, there will be bodies stashed in the nearest stairwell. ”
The older cop smiled at me. “Look at them, Gardener. They’re so happy. How could you take their happiness away? It’s so rare.”
Nilman was happy, too, but instead of reminding him of that, I turned around in my seat and banged my head into the steering wheel. “Get the hell out of the car.”
It took a lot of work to herd the three smiling men to the eighth floor. Everyone wanted something from Quinn, who was quite happy to volunteer to help with even the smallest task. After five stops on the way to the elevator, my husband had given himself at least five hours of work.
I hoped it was work he actually needed to do.
Under the influence of A+ pixie dust, he’d enjoy doing anything anyone threw his way.
At least it wouldn’t compromise his ability to realize someone was giving him an order he shouldn’t comply with.
It would impair his base ability to refuse requests, but it wouldn’t force him to act against his nature.
If angels had necks, I would have wrung Sylvester’s with my hands and enjoyed every minute of it. Immortals wouldn’t die from a mere strangulation. I could indulge for hours without any harm done. I’d enjoy it.
On the eighth floor, Quinn’s cops gaped at us while I herded my trio of miscreants to their desks and locked my new husband in his office. Turning and pressing my back to the door, I glared at the cops. “Get. Me. Neutralizer.”
Everyone stared at me in dead silence, doing a fair imitation of statues. Great. They probably thought I had lost my mind.
“Three choices: I kill you all, I swear never to make any of you a single cup of coffee as long as I live, or you get me neutralizer right now.”
My threats needed work. People weren’t supposed to laugh when I issued them. I sighed. “Please.”
Amanda stepped away from her desk, grinning so wide her face had to hurt. “How much do you need?”
“A spoonful in a cup of coffee each should work. Make it an espresso.”
The woman laughed. “We don’t know how to use the machine.”
Screaming my frustration, I pointed at the nearest cop, one of the younger men. “You. Do not let Chief Quinn out of his office.” I picked two other victims and pointed at them in turn. “Keep those other two at their desks. Pretend they’re little kids. Give them candy or something.”
The three saluted, and my first volunteer replied, “Yes, ma’am!”
In retrospect, giving the cops a good coffee machine without teaching them how to use it classified as cruel and unusual punishment. I could kill multiple birds with a single stone. “All right. The rest of you, fall in. Time to learn how to make coffee.”
A few whoops answered me, and with a herd of eager cops in tow, I descended on their new machine. Suzy sat on the counter with a half-filled pot. I hissed at it.
Suzy’s time would end soon enough—after I restored Quinn, Perky, and Nilman to sanity.
“Pay attention, but I’ll be here to teach you how the whole thing works after I sober the three idiots up.”
The break room couldn’t fit everyone, although they made a valiant effort to cram as many bodies into the space as possible.
Armed with three espressos spiked with neutralizer, I delivered them to my intended targets.
It didn’t take much to convince them to drink.
Within five minutes, the neutralizer would do its job and counter the worst of their pixie-dust high.
I turned to the rest of the cops. “Chief Quinn never gets A or higher grade pixie dust again. Ever.”
I’d think long and hard about using a tiny bit of the dust stashed in my bra in the safety of his home with neutralizer on hand. If I gave him a hit of the truly good stuff, I could make sure no one learned of it.
When I was certain they drank down every last drop of their coffee, I turned to their volunteered babysitters. “Watch them until they stop giggling.”
In a way, I envied the high threesome. Why couldn’t I benefit from a small hit of instant joy? I sighed and headed back to the break room. “Just this once, I will make you all a cup of coffee, but in exchange, you need to teach everyone else in the building how to use the machine.”
My plan to spread the love of coffee would have worked a lot better if someone hadn’t opened their big mouth and spread the word I was on the eighth floor teaching people how to get a good fix of java.
Since pixie dust didn’t come bundled with a low, ten minutes after I got the espresso into them, Quinn, Perky, and Nilman went to work as though nothing had happened, still in a good mood, but otherwise oblivious to their high.
While tired, they dove into their jobs with the same cheerful determination as someone dosed with a mild hit of C-grade dust.
It would do.
Five hours of dealing with an endless stream of cops eager to have a good cup of coffee convinced me I definitely never wanted to work as a barista ever again.
As soon as the tides shifted and the cops no longer needed my help to play with the coffee machine, I headed for Quinn’s office.
It took another twenty minutes of waiting before he got off the phone.
I let myself into his office. “Do you still have the room at the Plaza?”
“Indeed we do. I decided to reserve it for a week before we left for Virginia.”
I came to a decision, and it involved the vial hiding in my cleavage. “I dealt with six hours of listening to you sing about beer on a wall and wheels on a bus. You owe me, Quinn.”
A sly smile creased my husband’s lips. “Okay. I’ll ask someone to drive us to the hotel.”
“I need a favor.”
“Oh?”
“I’m going to need a vial of neutralizer.” When I dosed him with the good pixie dust, I needed to get him down from the high after I finished making him the happiest of men.
“All right. What quality?”
“Best you have.”
“Why? Should I be worried?”
“I’m going to commit a felony tonight while making you the happiest man on Earth.” Consent was important. I didn’t know anyone who would reject such an offer, but with Quinn, I never knew.
His eyes widened. “Oh.”
“The neutralizer, Chief Quinn.”
When motivated, he moved fast. Within five minutes, I had a mason jar filled with pink powder.
He also brought an unlabeled pill bottle with him.
“D grade transformative. I thought it might be useful for you. There are a hundred pills in the bottle. Try not to abuse your unicorn privileges too much.”
I took the jar and bottle, set them on Quinn’s desk, and snatched a tissue from the box.
Fishing out some of the pills, I wrapped them up.
After a brief search, I located plastic bags in a drawer.
Later I’d find a better way to keep them close at hand.
The pills joined the vial in my bra. “You filed the papers to give me these properly?”
“Of course. What do you take me for?”
“A man hoping I’ll need an entire mason jar of neutralizer.”
“Can you blame me?”
“Yes. Let’s get out of here. Between the drive and teaching your cops how to make coffee, you really owe me. March, Chief Quinn. It’s time for you to pay up.”
I loved the way he smiled at me.
Everything went according to plan until Quinn decided he wanted to make plans of his own.
I left him in the lobby talking to the concierge about something he promised I’d like a lot if I gave him five minutes alone to complete his scheming.
The playful gleam in his eye intrigued me enough I agreed and headed up to our room.
I’d use the few extra minutes preparing the pixie dust for his consumption.
I’d also change into one of the bathrobes so he’d have a soft, fluffy package to unwrap.
Smiling at the thought, I swiped the key card for our room and opened the door.
A pop startled me, bright blue powder puffed in my face, and within three breaths, someone turned all the lights out.
The world was blurred around me, and I had the faint sense of people nearby—and something not quite human, too. A feeling of wrongness clung to me, but every time I realized something was amiss, something soft and warm sucked me back into the darkness.
When I finally clawed my way free of the smothering, comfortable lethargy, spurred by the sense of something not being quite right, my ears rang and my entire body hurt. I groaned.
Ouch, ouch, ouch.
Why couldn’t I go an entire week without someone or something cleaning my clock? I blamed Quinn. The closer I got to sharing a bed with him, the worse my circumstances became. Then again, I wouldn’t change anything. He was worth it. However, we needed to have a long talk about his cursed luck.
“She’s awake, Mistress.” A man giggled from somewhere disconcertingly close to me. “Can I play with her now? Please? I’ve been good.”
Oh hell no. No, no, no. The only man I wanted playing with me was Quinn, and he wasn’t Quinn; his voice was too deep. My attention turned from my aching body to the man who wanted to play with me. I wanted to tense, but my muscles hurt enough I remained limp.
Would Sylvester’s fancy golden tattoo bracelet work? Where was I? What had happened? I remembered a pop followed by a big, black nothing.
Not good.
A soft, feminine voice laughed, and I recognized the sound. Yippee. I needed to have a long talk with Quinn about his ex-wife. Of course, if I had my way, we’d be having the discussion over Audrey’s corpse. It counted as self-defense if I killed her while escaping, right? I cracked open an eye.