Page 21 of Riot Reunion
“What? Where the hell did you transfer to, Pres? You’re freaking me out.”
“Alaska. University of Alaska Fairbanks.”
All hope of keeping this situation under control evaporates. Pax’s face is a livid shade of red. He grabs me be the wrist and sets to prising the phone free from my hand. I have no hope of—
“Listen, don’t tell Pax, okay?” Presley says. She’s choked up, her voice full of emotion. It sounds as though she’s on the verge of tears.
Pax lets go of the phone as if it’s burned him.
“I—I just don’t want to have to deal with that right now. He’s been calling non-stop, and I want to talk to him, really, I do. It’s just…there’s so much going on right now, and I wanna be able to figure out how to word it all, and…”
My heart plummets, a lead weight in my chest, falling, falling, falling… “That’s okay. Of course. I won’t say anything.” Poor Pax. He drops onto the couch, shaking his head, his eyes distant. I don’t even think he’s in the room with me anymore.
“Thanks, Elodie. Look, this is a lot. I get it. You just called at a tricky time is all. I really have to get up to the administrative block to hand in some paperwork. Would it be cool if I called you back later?”
I don’t think my throat has ever been this dry. It feels like I’m coughing up razorblades as I say, “Sure. No worries at all. I’m free for the rest of the day. I can’t wait to hear all about Alas—”
“Thanks, E.” The line cuts off before I can even finish what I was saying.
Holy fuck. What the hell wasthat?
I look to Pax, bracing for holy hell fire, but…ahhh, shit. The surprise and his earlier anger are gone now. He looks at peace, and surely that can’t be a good thing. “There was a guy there,” he says.
“Of course there wasn’t! She was just busy, that’s all.”
“Busy?” Pax quirks an eyebrow at me. “For sure. Busy. I mean,moving toAlaskais a pretty big job,”he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Ibetshe’s been fucking busy. Shame she didn’t tell her friends or herboyfriendthat she was moving across the other side of the country. Maybe one of us could have helped her!”
Where the fuck is Wren? I need him. Pax is starting to sound a little crazy, and who can blame him? “We should just try and stay calm. Who knows why she decided to transfer. I mean, there could be a perfectly good explanation for all of this. If we’re patient and give her some time, I’m sure Pres will get in touch and explain.”
“Bullshit.” Pax smiles sweetly. “There's fuckery afoot.” Getting up from the sofa, he runs a hand over his shaved head, sweeping his tongue over his teeth at the same time. “Something isn't right,” he says breezily. Why doesn't he sound upset? Why does he actually soundhappynow? Ooh. Oh no. He's lost his fucking mind. And…he's headed for the door?
“Wait. Where were you going?”
Grinning evilly, he says, “Where do you think? I'm gonna go find out what thefuckis going on with my girlfriend.”
7
DASH
A gun.
I just got off a plane. I’m in a city I’ve only passed through briefly before. Where the fuck am I going to get agun?
The answer to that question is obvious, of course. The most colorful clientele frequents the hotel we’re staying in. The concierge is ready and willing to fuck Carrie and I senseless. Genesis willabsolutelybe able to hook me up with a firearm. I just don’t want to have to ask her for one.
“This was supposed to be a vacation,” I hiss under my breath, as I leave the elevator, making my way across the deserted lobby. “Most people don’t have toarmthemselves for a little R and R.”
I didn’t tell Carrie what Michael said. She’d never have let me leave the penthouse otherwise. Gun or no gun, if Carrie suspected I was being dragged into a scenario that might wind up getting me hurt or killed, there's no way she would let me out of her sight. I kissed her on the top of her head and told her to get some rest, that I'd be back soon, and that I'd be bringing her a breakfast bagel and some coffee when I returned, and then I'd slipped out without a backward glance, only the smallest frisson of nervous energy firing through my body.
Now that I'm standing in front of the reception desk and Genesis is giving me that cool, professional-yet-oh-so-suggestive smile, I feel like calling Michael Aubertin back and telling him in no uncertain terms to go fuck himself.
Instead, I blurt out, “Genesis, I need a weapon.”
She doesn’t even blink. “What kind?”
“Uh…a gun?”
“Handgun? Or something a little more…” She arches an eyebrow. “Heavy duty?”
