Page 102 of Long Enough
The joking one passed her to someone else, and the deep voice was back. “Gloriosa, we’re right next to Steel. Do you want to hold his hand?”
“Please,” she begged.
The loud, annoying crinkling was back as TB opened the foil blanket to make a hole for her arm to come through.
“Okay, there’s one condition. Demon needs to put an IV in you, so he’s going to use this arm. You’re going to hold my hand first to make sure you keep your end of the deal, okay?”
“Why?” she whined.
Demon’s voice filtered back to her. “Sorry, Gloriosa, this is gonna hurt. Your veins are going to be tiny as feck from no water for days, but I’ve gotta get the needle in. I’m using the smallest one I have. I’d rather you break TB’s hand than Steel’s. He’s got enough going on.”
There was a pinching feeling in her arm, and then she screamed as fire raced through it when Demon inserted the needle. She felt a heavy weight crash down over her body, holding her in place when she tried to thrash around.
Seconds that felt like forever later, the pinching feeling released, and then there was the sound of tape being cut, and she felt adhesive attach itself to her arm.
“Try to keep her as still as possible,” she heard Demon say. “Okay, you can hold Steel’s hand now.” He put her hand atop her husband’s, helping her thread their fingers together since he was still unconscious. “I’m going to put some medicine in your IV. You’ll sleep through the flight, and when you wake up, we’ll be back home.”
She struggled to open her eyes. “Ildefanso?”
“He’s gonna be fine. And just so you know, I’ve got fifteen hundred on your first words to him being an argument in Spanish, so if you’re so inclined…” He winked at her, then inserted another needle into the IV portal. “Sleep now. It’s over.”
A warm river seemed to flow into her arm, up her shoulder, and throughout her body. In seconds, she was asleep.
35
SEPTEMBER 6, 2024
Steel
Five soft pipsfrom his wristwatch woke him from his doze. Five pips meant a message from Midas. Groggily, he sat up from his prone position on the couch. Bare feet slipped out from under the blanket someone had laid over him, and he scrubbed his face while twisting his back to stretch it out before standing up and walking into the kitchen of his apartment.
The sight on the counter stopped him.
Two coffee mugs in a dish drainer that had been rinsed out, washed, and left to air dry. Two spoons that had been used to stir in sugar and milk. Two plates, two forks, two knives that had been used to eat breakfast a few hours ago.
Two of everything.
A languid warmth filled his chest, and his hand reached up to rub at the soft ache there. Not a bad ache—a good one. One that meant he was missing someone, but she’d be back soon.
He looked around his apartment. Where the hell was she, anyway? When they’d talked at breakfast, she hadn’t mentioned going anywhere today.
Glancing at his watch, he saw it was just after one thirty. Maybe at lunch with Cherry or one of the other women?
Five pips sounded again from his watch. With a sigh and an eye roll, he hit the face and looked at the text.
“Meeting at fourteen hundred. My office. Found a lead.”
Five minutes later, he was showered, dressed, and had scrawled a three-word note for Daleyza, leaving it on the counter. It’s not like she couldn’t find him in under two minutes, since he was staying in the building, but it felt important to leave a note as to where he’d gone.
Scowling because she had not done the same, he grabbed a hoodie to combat the arctic temperatures of Midas’ office and headed out the door. Why the hell were they meeting there?
He was the last one to arrive at the meeting. All the men were sitting on the sofa or had pulled in chairs from the other spaces that Midas shared the floor with, and they were all laughing at what was on the screen. Kubrick was sitting at the foot of the table, her boots propped with one ankle over the other on the surface, and she was reading in an overly fake, deep voice from a paperback in her hand.
Gem was sitting to her left, also with a book, and when Kubrick stopped reading, Gem would pick up. Mouse also chimed in at times. Suddenly, it became very clear what was happening.
Ah. Friday Girls’ Lunch. He’d forgotten.
Demon said it was “brain fog,” a product of the anesthesia after digging three bullets out of him. It would get better with time, he promised, but it could take up to six months before it wore off completely.
