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I uttered a wail, and Brayden stalked over and snapped, “Stop that.”
“You killed him.”
“You can’t kill a ghost,” Brayden argued.
“He was real to me,” I muttered. Even if he didn’t have a body, Mahoney had a personality. What a shame the wrong person still lived.
Fingers snapped in front of my face. “Look at me. I want to see if he got inside.” He gripped me by the chin, gentler than his tone would have indicated.
“What if he is? Then what? You going to crush me, too?”
His lips flattened. “No, that would be cruel. I care about you, Allie. I wish things could have gone differently. If only you’d been stronger.”
He ran his knuckles down my cheek and I wanted to spit at him. Only I worried that like the last time I tried, it would end up slopping on my face. Hard to make a dramatic exit with goober rolling down the chin. “If I die, won’t his spirit just find another body? We are in a junkyard.”
“It’s not that easy. He needs a personal tie to the person or object in question. A way in created by familiarity.” He remained gentle even as he knocked my ankles out and lowered me to the ground.
“Stop this, Brayden. I thought we had a thing for each other.” I could fake passion to live.
“We did, which is why this is hard for me to do. But I can’t let my father and all those people die in vain. I promise to make it quick.” He lifted his gun and aimed it at my head.
I literally looked down the barrel of his gun.
And that was when death swooped in, a thing of claws and fur, red eyes, and fury.
My baby, Blade.
CHAPTER28
Blade foundhis balls long enough to save the day and headbutted Brayden so hard, the man flew away from my body, hit the compactor, and slumped to the ground.
Dead? I hoped not. Might be complicated to explain to the cops. Then again, maybe not with my hands tied behind my back. Even a cop would have to admit to something hinky going on. What about when Brayden woke, though? What would he say? Would he accuse me of being a killer?
It would be his word against mine. No evidence to tie me to the murders, despite what he claimed. With the bike gone, it would be hard to prove.
But what if I was wrong? The only way I’d be free and clear—
I turned my gaze from the unconscious body. No, I would not do that. Not even to save myself. As I shoved myself into a sitting position, my big, brave dog came to slurp me. I swore he knew I had no hands to defend myself.
Then again, I didn’t really mind. I’d earned my slobbery kisses since Blade had saved me. I’d never make fun of his quirks again because when the moment called for it, he’d done the right thing and saved the maker of his bacon.
“Who’s going to get a T-bone steak? A big one,” I baby-talked, and Blade got so excited he peed a little in my lap. It was okay. I planned to toss out these pants anyhow. I leaned my head on his flank and murmured, “What are we going to do?”
The right thing, it turned out. After I sawed through the zip tie binding my hands and ordered my dog to sit on Brayden, I went through the detective’s pockets.
The wallet coughed up his driver’s license, badge, and a picture of me taken as I smiled at my dog in the yard. I pressed his fingerprint to his phone to unlock it and browsed through the contacts. He’d marked my number as his favorite and titled it:Girlfriend.
He’d yet to stir, and the purple bruising at his temple indicated a likely concussion—if he woke.
Given the strong probability, along with his evident obsession with me, I fabricated a fantastic story for the EMTs. The boyfriend and I were playing tag—you know, as a foreplay thing—when he tripped and fell. Simple, and me flustered enough that they bought it. I didn’t even get a visit from the boys in dark blue about one of their own ending up in the hospital.
Just in case, though, I visited each day for the first two weeks of the coma. According to the doctors, he’d almost died twice. But each time, he’d rallied back.
The cranial bleed, his only real injury, healed, but his brain showed no signs of activity. If they didn’t see anything soon, unless some unknown family member stepped forward, there would be a request to the courts to pull the plug.
While all this went on, I got rid of the evidence in my compactor. Wasn’t all that hard, given I bundled the bike and smooshed car in with some other metal scrap and sold it. Just in case, though, I also scrubbed that compactor with bleach, then acid-washed the surface. Try and get some fucking DNA now. I covered my bases and waited.
The hospital advised me that they’d gotten court permission and would be taking Brayden off life support. Knowing that Brayden would die shortly, I visited one last time, sneaking Blade in with me. Okay, so I didn’t sneak. I slapped a service dog vest on him and faked it. To Blade’s credit, since his rescue of me, he’d been much braver but still just as smothering in bed. I remained less than impressed with his new obsession with crotch sniffing.
