Chapter 41
FORTY-ONE
MAVEN
I spend most of the week at the hospital. The nurses tell me not to share a bed with him, but as soon as I get down, he demands I come back. So that whole situation isn’t really working.
Police officers come and go, asking questions and taking statements.
I’m still at the hospital the day Carrie gets out of rehab, which makes me feel even more guilty for not being there for her. The minute I see her she throws her arms around my shoulders and squeezes me tight.
“I’ve missed you.” I whisper.
“I missed you more. Now do you want to introduce me officially to your husband?” I step back and smile at her; she looks good. Healthy, which makes me proud and sad that I didn’t get her the help she needed sooner.
She stays with me at the hospital for the rest of the day, and then visits a few times during the week. She always brings food, which is nice considering the food here is utter shit.
Boston is up and moving after a few days, but he’s taking it slow. When we’re finally discharged, Victor is there to drive us home. Victor is growing on me, even if he calls me a little assassin every chance he gets.
“So, what did you do with the bodies?” I ask him as we arrive at Boston’s house. Victor turns to Boston, as if he is asking if it’s okay to tell me. Boston says nothing and doesn’t react as we enter the house.
“Same thing I do with all the other bodies,” he replies.
“And that is?” I press.
We enter the bedroom, and Boston climbs straight into bed, flinching from the pain of the movement, but he doesn’t say a word.
“I play with them. I like to skin some, but these I put in a freezer.” He shrugs like it’s nothing.
I glance at Boston. “Are you hurting?”
He shakes his head. They gave him painkillers before we left to help with the ride home and sent a prescription for me fill. “I need to go to the pharmacy to get this script filled. Do you think you’ll be okay here with Victor? I’ll bring back food.”
“I can cook,” Victor says, and we both look at him.
“You cook?” I ask, surprised.
“Yes, Little Assassin, I do. I cook damn well. How do you think I got so skilled with knives?” He huffs and leaves the room. I watch him until he’s out of sight, then I turn back to Boston.
“You have weird friends,” I tell him. Leaning down, I kiss him on the lips, and we linger, not wanting it to end, but I eventually pull away. “I’ll be back, okay?”
He tries to get me to stay and climb into bed with him, but I have to get his meds, because once whatever it is he’s on wears off, he’ll feel the pain.
When I get to the pharmacy, I sit down and wait for the order to be filled. It’s busy this late in the afternoon, so I play on my phone, not even paying attention when someone takes the seat next to me.
“If you scream, I’ll be sure not to miss this time.
” I look down and feel something press into my side.
My hand freezes on the phone as I spot the barrel of a gun.
Glancing up, I see Rolland. The red splotches on his shirt are evidence that where I got him is still bleeding, and he is doing a shit job of looking after himself. I pull a smirk.
I glance around to see if anyone is looking our way, but everyone is too busy with whatever it is they’re doing.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“I want to know when the next hunt is.”
“Hunt?” I try to play dumb.
“Yes, I want to know,” he grumbles. He has a hat on that covers his dark hair, and I can tell he’s hardly slept.
“I don’t know about any hunt,” I say, staring at him. “What is the hunt? Like you go hunting for deer?”
His lip twitches, and he nods at my phone. “Call him and put it on speaker. Ask when it is. He always knows.” The last words are pushed through gritted teeth.
“Call who?” I ask.
“Your fucking husband. What are you, slow?” He shakes his head, clearly annoyed with me, which I note has gained some attention from people nearby. “Call, now. Before I put a bullet in your kidney.”
I press call, and he answers almost immediately. “Dynamite.”
I glance at Rolland, and as I talk, I watch his expression.
“When is the hunt?” I ask.
Rolland glances from me to the phone, an eager glint in his eye. Why he needs that information, I don’t know.
“What?” He’s clearly confused by my question.
“Boston, when is the next hunt? You can tell me; I am your wife after all,” I say, still watching Rolland. He glares at me, his eyes bloodshot and clearly sleep-deprived, but angry, so fucking angry.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Boston says, and I hear him grunt, which probably means he’s moving.
I wait for Rolland to tell me what to do, but he just mouths for me to ask again.
“Surely you know, Boston. When is it?” I press.
My name is called, letting me know the script is ready, and I take my eyes off of Rolland for just a few seconds. During that time, I feel him move. And when I look back at him, he’s walking away.
Taking the phone off the speaker, I put it to my ear.
“Maven.” Boston’s voice is laced with concern.
“Rolland was here,” I tell him. “He just left. He wanted to find out when the next hunt is. Why does he care?”
“Stay there. I’m coming.”
“No, you fucking aren’t. You stay in bed, mister. I can handle myself. I just wasn’t paying attention.” I pay for the painkillers and then head out the door. “I’ll be home soon.” I scan the street before my gaze lands on my bike.
I must make some sort of sound, because Boston asks, “What? What is it?”
“Motherfucker.” I stomp my foot.
“Maven,” he growls.
“He gave me a flat tire.”
“You really need to start taking one of the cars.”
“One of the cars? What do you mean? You only have one,” I say, grumbling under my breath and wanting to kick my bike. Glancing around again, I make sure he isn’t still out here. Asshole. I should gut him for that.
“I have several. Tell me what car you want, and it’s yours.”
I stand in the street, baffled. “What do you mean you have several?” I pause. “Being a detective does not pay that well.”
“No, but when my parents died, they left me with a lot of money,” he answers.
“Oh, I married rich, and we don’t have a prenup. I’m filing for a divorce after I drop your meds off. I’m taking everything you own.”
“Well, at least you were kind enough to drop my meds off first. Do you think I can get a kiss before you leave me?”
“It will cost you,” I say as I stand next to my bike.
“Victor is almost there,” he says. “Cost me what? I’m willing to pay any price.”
I’m laughing when a familiar sedan pulls up.
“Where do you keep all these lavish things?” I question.
“I like to collect cars. Older cars. I have a warehouse full of them. Some property too. I have houses in Croatia, Mexico—”
“Oh my God. You’re taking me to Croatia,” I squeal as I get in the car. “Hey, Victor, thanks for the lift. Even though I know it pains your existence to be here.”
“You understand me,” Victor murmurs as he pulls back onto the road.
“He likes you, and that’s saying a lot considering that man hates everyone,” Boston says.
“Even you?” I ask.
“He tolerates me because I’ve helped him out in the past,” he answers.
“What type of help?” I ask Boston, then address Victor. “What did Boston do to help you that made you like him?”
Boston starts laughing.
“I don’t like him,” Victor grumbles.
“So you’re here to be my hero because you like me more? Okay then. Did you hear that, Boston? I’m his favorite now, not you.”
“I hope she shuts up on the drive home, or I may very well push her out of the car,” Victor says, his hands gripping the wheel tightly.
“But for real, what did you do for him?” I ask Boston.
“I’ll tell you when you get back. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me. He was very eager to find out about the hunt, though.”
“Yes,” he says, then I tell him I’m five minutes out, and hang up.
“Do you know much about the hunt?” I ask Victor.
“You aren’t even supposed to know about the hunt,” Victor says, shaking his head.
“Well, clearly I do. So, who’s going to do anything about it?”
“Just keep that knowledge between you, Boston, and me,” he warns, then pulls up to the house.
I get inside and go straight to the bedroom, only to find Boston out of bed and mostly dressed. He’s struggling to pull his shirt down.
“Get back in that bed,” I order.
“No, I have to find Rolland.”
“I’m sure other people are already working on that.”
He shakes his head. “No one can track and trace like me.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Is that so?”
“How do you think I got you?” He smirks, and I roll my eyes at the memory. “Though, I’m glad because whoever sent me that video led me to you.”
I scrunch my nose at him. “What do you mean? Did you not have it?”
“No, it was sent to me.”
I throw my hands up in the air. “And you never looked into it?” I ask, flabbergasted.
“Well, I had planned to. But when you took the bait, everything changed.”
“It couldn’t have been Rolland, could it?” I ask.
“No, I don’t think he was aware of you for a while.”
“So who do you think it was?” I put his meds on the nightstand and take a seat at the end of the bed. “Give me the phone number and I can get it traced.”
He hands me his phone, and I search through it until I find the phone number, then I send it to myself before I forward it to Carrie. I call her, and she answers straight away.
“Hey. I just sent you a phone number. Can you get info on it for me, please?”
“Sure. How is Boston?”
I look up at him as I hand him his phone back. He bends down, only flinching slightly, and presses his lips to my forehead before leaving the room.
“He’s doing better. Though, he’s not staying in bed like the doctor ordered.”
“Ugh, men,” she says, then laughs. And I have to agree with her.