Page 104 of The Season
Tom doesn’t answer, and I tap one foot against the ground, a rhythmic staccato that matches the irritated pulse beating behind my eyes, threatening to turn into a headache. He’s taking longer than he should to wake up. A few more minutes, and I’ll have to think about hauling him off to a hospital. Apparently. According to my doctor sister.
“Hmf gra ff.”
The garbled sounds are wet and indiscernible, but they have me sitting straighter, a frisson of excitement rushing through me.He’s waking up.
“Wh-where… what…?”
One beady eye opens, the other too swollen to do more than twitch, and Tom’s mumbling cuts off with a groan.
I grin, my smile pulling so wide it hurts, and I drop to my knees, bringing my face level with his own.
“Good morning, sunshine,” I drawl, even though it’s closer to midnight. “You feeling better?”
“Wha… what happened?” he moans, and I feel some of my earlier excitement fizzle away.
I have a whole plan laid out, with varying levels of threats, blackmail, and general mind-fuckery. That plan becomes completely useless if Tom can’t remember anything.
Though, it would make things easier.
“You hit your head,” I say, injecting as much mock sympathy into my voice as possible. “Must have slipped in the bathroom.”
Tom blinks, his one bloodshot eye darting around the room, as if searching for some hidden enemy in the shadows. “Hit… hit my head?”
I sigh, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. “I mean, yah. Going by how fucked up your face is, mate.”
He gives a plaintive whimper, reaching up with trembling fingers to feel his face. I hate that I feel even a little bit bad for him, that I feel even the smallest bit of sympathy for his pain. He deserved it. Deserved everything Seth gave him.
“I saw you slip something into Lily’s drink,” I tell him, my voice low, almost conversational.
His hand stills, his one eye going wide.
“I saw you follow her to the bathroom.”
His throat bobs, a painful-sounding gurgle escaping him.
“I know what you were going to do.”
I see the moment realization dawns, can practically see the memories flitting back to life. His one eye narrows, darkening with defiance, the muscles on his neck cording as he attempts to haul himself up to a seated position.
“We stopped you. And… well, you had a little accident.”
He manages to haul himself to a seated position, his hands fisting the covers of his unmade bed as he tries to keep himself upright. Fresh blood trickles from his split lip, mixing with the dried blood flaking in a stripe from his nose to chin.
I rise to stand, nostrils flaring in disgust as I stare down at him.
“I’m… I’m going to fucking kill you guys,” he hisses, spit and blood flying out, but thankfully landing on the carpet and not me. “I’m talking to my lawyer and…”
“Your lawyer. Really?” I scoff, even as my heart races at his threat.
Aiding and abetting assault, my brother had explained to me.Criminal charges. Possibly civil liability too. You know how those Americans like to sue each other. You might never get a work visa for the States again. And your buddy—well, he could easily go to jail.
“And what exactly is your case going to be? That someone polished the bathroom tiles too much and you fell on your face while you were trying to get your dick out?”
“Oh, come on,” he sneers, waving one hand in irritation. The move has him lurching forward with a wince. “That chick was asking for it. And it’s not like she isn’t fucking the rest of you guys anyway.”
White-hot rage pulses through me, my hands clenching into fists so tight, I can feel my blunt fingernails cutting into my palms.
“You slipped something into her drink,” I say again, forcing my voice to stay calm. “I saw you.”
