Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
BELLATRIX
Gabby leaned against the door as I dropped my jacket onto the floor and slowly peeled my shirt off.
One sleeve then the other, careful when I went to tug the whole thing over my head.
I tossed the sweat-drenched V-neck aside with the rest of the dirty clothes piled around my room.
Not bothering to look for anything remotely clean to change into.
I really needed a shower but that would have to wait until I was feeling a little more lucid.
Yup, a quick equipment check and I was going straight to bed. I ran a hand along the back of my left arm and huffed. “Fucker knocked my pump loose.”
“The guy from last night?” Gabby asked, already walking into the attached bathroom to grab the meter, a few lancets, and my spare pen from my go bag.
I forgot she was there for a moment, getting to that point in my haze where things wavered between real and distorted.
I didn’t usually let myself get this bad before stopping somewhere to take a nap.
But there was no going to sleep with my sugar left unchecked, unless I wanted that sleep to be the permanent kind.
“Uh, yeah, the guy from last night.” I didn’t look her in the eye, pretending I was too focused on my glucose level, which wasn’t what it should be. Motherfucker.
“Surprised you let him get that close.”
“Me too. His wallet’s in the front pocket.” I pointed to my jacket, then pinched the meat of my stomach with two fingers as I pushed down on the injection button. Gabby cringed. I didn’t even feel the sting anymore. She was fine with jabbing other people but always made a face when I jabbed myself.
She waited until I was done to bend over and fish out the wallet. Then she stood to her full height, crossed her arms, and pinned me with a glare. “You’re gonna get yourself sick. The alcohol pads are right there.” She aimed a manicured nail at the stockpile of supplies on my left.
I shrugged and tossed the used needle into the trash can by my bed. Gabby mumbled under her breath as she bent over again, retrieved the needle, and deposited into the red sharps bin.
“Thanks, Mom.” I grinned, and she rolled her eyes.
Sometimes I did this shit just to piss her off. Or maybe it was to prove to her that she cared more than she’d ever admit. Maybe to prove it to myself too. But I wasn’t a psychologist. Just a hired hand.
“You were out later than usual,” she hummed, ignoring the bait as she propped herself against my dresser.
We used to share a room but that ended right around the time Gabby took an interest in shoes, and I took an interest in guns.
One closet wasn’t exactly enough for shared hobbies.
So Vee sold the original building and rented out this place.
A combination of offices and apartments.
In the worst part of the city, where she said we were needed the most. A half-truth.
We were needed here but that wasn’t why she did it.
She did it so each of us girls had our own space.
“Crashed out somewhere,” I told Gabby. It was my go-to explanation for everything, and most of the time, it wasn’t a lie.
“Where?”
Another shrug. “Apartment above a bar. Passed it on the walk home.” Like I said, the best lies were partial truths. It was one of the first lessons Vee taught us. Which meant Gabby wasn’t buying it any more than I would if it were her.
“You just happened to pass an empty apartment?”
It was, in fact, empty when I got there. “Mhmm.”
“So you were alone?”
“Yup.” I popped my P, climbing onto the bed and preparing to switch off the light before Gabby really started in on me.
“All night?” she pressed. Her expression set on full interrogation mode. This was what she was good at. Pulling information out of people, trapping them with their own words. I’d much rather just shoot ?em in the face.
Call her the brains and me the brawn, if you wanted to. Didn’t mean I was dumb, just that I preferred to get right to it.
“Well, obviously not all night.” I pointed to the wallet in her hand and smirked.
“Then whose blood is that on your bra?”
I glanced down at myself before I figured out what she was doing. My clothes were black. Always black. Including my bras and underwear. If there was blood on me, there was no way she could see it from where she was standing.
I kept with the half-truths anyway. Always commit to the bit. Something else Vee taught us. “Told you the guy knocked my pump loose. It was very possible he got some blood on me too.”
“Blood from where you shot him.”
“Yup. Exactly.” I nodded. It would have been smarter to say it was my blood from the pump. But it was too late now.
“In the head…”
“Uh…”
“So…” Gabby pushed off the dresser, taking two steps forward before pivoting on a heel and taking two similarly-sized steps in the opposite direction.
All while tapping a finger to her chin. “Let me get this straight. The guy you shot. Once in the head. Somehow managed to get blood. On your bra. During a scuffle—your word—after he was already shot in the head.”
I could have claimed I had to shoot him more than once but that’d leave me wide open for even more questions. It would also be easily proven to be a lie.
“It’s possible.” It really was. “Plenty of people have survived headshots before. It happens,” I assured her.
“Not Allie. And not him.” She waved the wallet in the air.
“I really am tired. Can’t we just talk about this later?” I tugged the blanket over my body and rolled to face the other way.
“Sure,” was all I got in return as Gabby spun around and walked out of the room. The clanking of her heels telling me my version of later was much different from what hers was gonna be. I was sure.