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Odin:You two lie low. I’ve got everything covered.
Dom:You sure?
Odin:Positive.
Dom:Call me if you need a rescue.
Ford:Or don’t.
Everything is cooked and set on the island within half an hour. No signs of my bride to be. I ponder if I should wake her up. I dismiss the thought instantly. I’m not her fucking maid.
More time passes, an hour maybe. I’ve kept busy replying to emails on my phone. But now I’m getting frustrated. I heat my plate up and eat while I continue to wait.
Dom:How is everything?
Odin:She’s still asleep.
Ford:Have you seen Juniper? She probably needs to piss and eat.
Ford has a point. I completely forgot about the dog. As if on cue, I hear a soft whimper coming from the hallway. As I make my way toward the door, the cries grow louder.
Aware that it could be some sort of trap, I open the door, my forearm raised to block any potential weapons from hitting me.
The only thing to come barreling out is Juniper. She jumps up, placing her paws on my chest, and whimpers as she licks my chin.
“Down,” I demand. She responds, dropping to her legs. I shoo her out the door and toward where bowls of food and water wait for her. She happily leaves to go investigate.
I return my attention to the room and find it empty. The bed cover is down, the sheets rumpled as if she fell out and stumbled away. The knife, though, is still missing. The bathroom door is closed, but I can hear the shower running.
“Dr. Lewis?”
No response.
Either she can’t hear me, she’s ignoring me, or she’s dead.
I hadn’t really considered she’d hurt herself.
Great.
“Harriet?” I try again. No answer.
I stalk toward the bathroom, my system bubbling with annoyance. I try to twist the handle, but it resists my attempts to open it.
“Dr. Lewis!” I call, banging my fist on the door. “You’ve got three seconds to be decent before I’m coming—”
The door opens before I can knock again, and Dr. Lewis launches at me dressed in pink silk pajamas with the butcher’s knife clasped in her hand.
She barrels out faster than I anticipated, bare feet slapping on the floor, the knife aiming straight for my neck. I grab her wrist carrying the knife,and hold it steady. I could put a stop to this very quickly, but I want to see what she’ll do. She gives a frustrated grunt and starts pushing against me. I move with her momentum, taking small steps until my calves hit the bed.
“Fuck you!” Harriet screams.
“That’s not very nice.”
She pounds her free hand against my chest, her fist connecting with my sternum like a drum. When I remain unaffected, she gives me another shove and I fall backward onto the bed, dragging her with me by the wrist I still have in my grip.
Harriet yelps as she lands on top of me, her knee falling precariously close to my groin.
I lift my head from the bed and find her wide blue eyes. Her anger subsides as she tries to catalog the fact that we are front to front, body to body. Her shoulders shake with a shiver.
