Page 95 of The Doctor

“What for?” The big man shifted, and Laney turned her watery eyes my way.

I knelt before them, smoothing a hand over the back of Laney’s head. Voice low and eyes locked on his, I told him, “My medicine.”

Santini lifted his chin, then narrowed his eyes. “Get your purse, then get away from the door.”

What did I ever do to make him not trust me?

My throat was too tight to ask. I grabbed my purse, then swung around, only to come face to face with every single person there. Eliza, Jet’s fiancée, stepped forward with a cautious smile on her lips.

“Is everything okay, Clara? Can I get you anything?”

Purse. Meds. Phone.

That was as far as my brain had allowed me to get.

I needed time. I needed peace. I needed to take my meds and get the hell out of here.

“Bathroom?” I asked, just a whisper, and the woman’s face settled, settling me.

“Of course.” She reached for my hand, gave it a little squeeze. “Why don’t you use the master bath? Take as long as you need.”

“Thank you.”

Thank God!

Without looking at the others, I raced down the hall, slamming the door to the bedroom and rushing into the bathroom.

I took only one pill, hoping it would help, leaving me the other in case the rest of this day went to hell. Then I splashed water on my face, as if doing so could somehow wash off the blood I’d already cleaned from my skin.

I cleaned it again.

And again.

And again.

I scrubbed my face and hands until my skin was red and the water ran cold. Only then, when my hands had stopped shaking and my head had stopped screaming, could I force myself to sit down and think things through.

Cosimo was behind this, I was sure.

Now I needed to convince someone else I wasn’t crazy, that I was right.

I needed someone who could not only believe me but could help me do something about it.

33

Clara

Quiet as a mouse, I peeked my head out of the bedroom door. There was a commotion at the other end of the apartment, and it felt far, far away.

Sarah and Chaya were here. Two of the guys from Jael’s crew had brought them in, and the men were talking with Santini while everyone else stood there listening.

From this end of the apartment, I couldn’t hear their words, but I could make out their dejected tones.

I lifted my phone, reading the text for the twentieth time, proving to myself once again that I hadn’t made this up.

Stephano: We’re on our way up.

Even if I hadn’t heard him knocking, I would have known when he got here. The three men pulled their guns at the same time before one of them led the way to the entry.