Death and Relaxation (Ordinary Magic #1)(92)

“They won’t even look for me,” she sneered. “They’ll think you let Dan Perkin out of his cell and he shot you before he committed suicide.”

This was it. No more time for talking.

The front door swung open with a bang.

I lunged for her.

Margot pivoted, gun swinging with her, leveled at the man who strode into the room.

Ryder Bailey.

No, no, no! He will not be shot before I get a chance to be mad at him for dumping me.

“Down!” I yelled. I jammed a shoulder into Margot’s back. We crashed to the floor. I landed hard on my bad side and yelled. I grappled with her, scrabbling for the gun.

She twisted under me, threw an elbow at my ribs. I didn’t have room to break away, didn’t want that gun in her control, and took the hit. It felt like half my body was on fire. Silver lights bashed and broke in front of my eyes. I slammed her hand down and the gun skittered away.

“Do not move!” I growled and yanked her arm back. I used my weight and leverage and straddled her as a bloom of fresh blood poured down my side.

It had all happened in a second.

“Freeze!” Ryder barked. “Now!” The slide and clack of a gun was louder than the roaring in my ears, louder than my own heavy breathing, louder than Margot’s swearing.

I stilled instinctively, and so did Margot.

“Delaney? Are you hurt?” Ryder asked.

Other than that knife you buried in my heart?

“Get the handcuffs in the desk drawer next to you.” I shoved up onto my knees and dragged Margot’s arm behind her until she hissed. I rested one knee in the middle of her back.

“You have the right to remain silent, Margot,” I said between hard breaths. My entire left side felt like a beast was sinking teeth into me, chewing and chewing. Hot blood trickled down and soaked the waistband of my pants. My vision was still star-studded.

Power, which had been of zero use to me, rolled and screamed through my headache.

The combination of new pain, old power, and Ryder’s voice—“Are you hurt?”—made me want to barf.

I swallowed until I got my nausea under control and patted Margot down one-handed, making sure she didn’t have any other weapons on her.

She struggled a second, and I was more than happy to lean a little harder on her. “Just settle down and let me finish. Then you can call your lawyer.”

I glanced up as Ryder gave me the handcuffs.

He had a Sig Sauer in his other hand, held down and to his side like he was comfortable holding a firearm. I frowned up at him, at his calm confidence in a situation any normal person would consider highly charged and should maybe be nervous about.

He was as cool as a trained veteran.

“Thanks for the assist.” I clamped the handcuffs over her wrists.

“Was she alone?”

I looked up at him again. His head was raised, eyes narrowed as he searched the shadows of the office.

That question, his stance, were not meshing with his architect civilian vibe. Most people in town carried a gun. But there was something more than just “hunter” in his stance.

“I think so,” I said. “I’ll put her in lockup and we’ll make sure.”

I pushed up to my feet, keeping my arm pressed against my side and doing my best not to wince or whimper, my other hand on Margot’s wrist so I could haul her up.

I didn’t know if it was from the lack of a weapon or the cold cuffs around her wrist, but all the fight seemed to have drained out of her.

“Where was I?” I asked conversationally as I frog-marched her down the hall to the cells. “Oh, right. You have the right to remain silent.”

Margot hung her head and walked quietly. Ryder followed behind, and stood in the door as I got Margot settled in the other cell next to Dan, whose shouting just added to the hammering in my skull.

I ignored Dan and walked over to Ryder, favoring my side with a slight limp. I stopped right in front of him. “You ass.”

He frowned. “Excuse me?”

I walked past him and he stepped into the hall with me, letting the door close and lock behind him.

“Myra sent you over, right? That’s the only reason you’re here, right? Because you made it pretty clear you didn’t want to be anywhere near me.”

He winced and dropped his gaze to the floor. “I saw your Jeep in the parking lot. Thought maybe I should see how you were…after I…”

“Dumped me in the hospital while I was still bleeding from a bullet?” I supplied.

His jaw locked and I saw the lightning flash of anger in his eyes before he got it under control. He gave me a hard smile. “Would it have been any better if I went on pretending I wanted to date you?”

Oh, that was low. All the sweet words from our one night together, all the gentle caresses, the pleasure, the need, the laughter, the feeling of pure rightness of being with him, thinking of him as mine, swirled away down the drain of the hole he’d just punched in my heart.

He watched me, eyes growing wary.

In the next heartbeat my heart galvanized. And then there was nothing in me but iron-hot anger.

“You had your chance, Ryder Bailey,” I whispered, low and fierce. “Old Rossi was right. And I will never forget what you really are.”

He jerked slightly, as if something I’d said shocked him. Then there were too many things in his shifting eyes to decipher. “Good,” he whispered.