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“Dane? W-where are we? I feel ... sosick...”
“Going to the doctor, Z. You’re fine. Yourdad’s coming.”
“He’s gonna be so mad.” She made ahiccupping sob, and her head thumped against his shoulder. “You’remad too.”
“Only a little. Don’t puke on me, or I’lldrop you.” A threat he’d have meant if it were anyoneelse.
A harried woman with tousled red hair openedthe door before he reached it. “Oh, hell. Come on in. I’ve got atable set up. Do you know what she took?”
“She’s been throwing up nonstop fromwhatever it was. I think someone roofied her and screwed up thedosage.”
“She never pays enough attention to herdrinks,” Gia said helpfully behind him. “But it’s not like we weresniffing cocaine or anything.”
The woman—obviously the doctor—directed Danethrough a foyer and into an old-fashioned dining room, nowrepurposed into a triage center. He settled Zara on the exam tablewhile the doctor grabbed supplies from a fridge andcabinet.
“Let’s get everything else out of herstomach while she’s at it. You can stay and help maneuver her,Mister Dark-and-Scowling. Keep her rolled on her side for now. Youother two, go across the hall. Then we’ll see about rehydrating andsobering her up.”
****
Time blurred. The doctor introduced herselfas Melissa at some point and gave him rapid-fire instructions whileadministering emetics and then something to stop the puking. Hetook a few mental notes—forced puking might be an effectiveinterrogation technique. Smelly, but so were piss and shit, andthose happened all too often when people panicked. Or died. Or younicked their intestines.
“P-please don’t go,” Zara whispered afterthe last shot. Her makeup was long-since ruined, black smudgestrailing down her cheeks from red-rimmed eyes. He’d officially seenher throw up more than her body weight … and still couldn’t helpthinking she was cute.
“I’ll be right here,” Dane heard himselfanswer, like a perfect dumbass.
“Thanks.” Zara fell back against the paperpillow. If not for the fading scents of bile, she could’ve passedfor a grunge-era rocker girl. He tucked a few strands of hairbehind her right ear and imagined being able to lean down and kissher head. Before he could give in to that suicidal idea, Sawyerknocked on the door.
“Not now,” Melissa started. “I—”
“He’s here.” Sawyer vanished before Melissacould finish berating him. The doctor heaved a sigh and lookedtheir patient over. Zara blinked owlishly, obviously several stepsbehind everyone else for once.
“Guess I better help you clean up, honey,”Melissa muttered, eying the gown loosely tied over Zara’s clubbinggetup. “Dane, you better step out.” She flashed him a smile. “Don’tworry. I’ll tell Adam you did good tonight.”
“Thanks, I think. I’ll be outside, Z. Don’tfreak out on her.”
“Do I ever?”
“No, but I’ve seen you handle food poisoningbetter than whatever the fuck this is.” Granted, they’d been kidsback then.
“Fair point,” she croaked with the ghost ofa messy smile.
He nodded to Zara and left her with thedoctor. Outside, a deathly silence ruled. Sawyer rocked on hisfeet, practically at attention in the hall, while Gia sniveled intoa Victorian couch in the living-turned-waiting room. Two car doorsslammed outside, and Dane opened the townhouse door, letting in ablast of cold, lakeside wind. And the faint, oak-and-leathercologne of doom itself.
Adam Fitzgerald ascended the house’s stonestairs slowly. He had a slight limp from an unlucky bullet tenyears earlier but otherwise still sported the broad shoulders andthick build he’d had in his fighting days. Woe to any smart-mouthedidiot who thought he couldn’t break jaws and skulls alike with hisfists. Dane and Sawyer both knew damn well to keep their mouthsshut as their boss ambled through the door carrying a Barbie-pinkgym bag. His guard hung back by the door, clearly blocking the mainescape route.
Dane stood to the side of the hall, backramrod straight in a mirror reflection of Sawyer’s position as theboss passed by. You did not want a pissed-off Adam Fitzgeraldnoticing your presence.Let Gia take that heat for once. She’sfucking earned it.
To her credit, she stood up and squared hershoulders. She was still sniffling but didn’t run away from herfather’s glare. “Daddy, I hope they didn’t wake you up. It’sonly—”
“My sixteen-year-old daughters vanishing ona school night. And one of them turning up overdosed on Rohypnol.Only that.” Adam’s quiet voice rang with fury. In a better world,Broadway would’ve celebrated him for his ability to impress andterrorize with the subtlest inflection, the tiniest gesture. Inthis one, Gia shuddered but kept her back straight. She didn’tcower. Grown-ass men fell to their knees hearing that tone, but nother. Must be nice to be delusional.
“We’re seventeen next month,” she said as ifthat changed a damn thing.
“After their brother stirs up a fuckinghornet’s nest down South, and the Russians start rattling cages,”Adam continued as though Gia hadn’t spoken. “But you think I’m inbed by midnight?” Adam snorted disdainfully, moving to kiss Gia’scheek and wrap her in a boa-constrictor hug. “Now, go wash yourface, Gianna. You look like a pimp’s nightmare. All the money inyour bank account, and you can’t buy waterproof eyeliner? Jesus.Put these damn clothes on before you die of pneumonia and depriveyour stepmother of delivering the righteous soliloquy on maturitythat you so richly deserve.” He shoved the glittery pink bag intoher arms, giving her a look as sharp as a blow. She scurried offtoward a set of doors Dane hadn’t noticed before. Hopefully, it ledto a bathroom and not a hidden escape hatch.
Adam’s attention turned to Dane and Sawyer.“McCabe said you were out after the Kirke ticket.”
“We were, sir,” Sawyer answered. Adam’s eyesnarrowed.
