The Killing Game(36)

“’Lo, Andi. Didn’t expect to see you here,” he greeted her.

“Hi, Ben. This is Luke Denton.” She turned to Luke, who thrust out a hand, which Ben shook. “Ben is Emma’s husband,” she explained. “And Emma’s over there at the bar, in the blue dress.”

Luke’s gaze followed where she pointed. Emma was leaning over the bar, showing a lot of upper thigh. Her curly blond hair was held back with a thin black headband, but wisps were already springing free. The bartender slid her a clear drink—probably a vodka tonic—and she picked it up carefully and took a short sip, followed by a big gulp. And then she locked eyes with Andi.

For a moment she looked like she wanted to run and hide, but then she sauntered over their way. Andi felt her stomach cramp and she slowly exhaled, telling herself to stop stressing.

“Well, hi, you guys,” Emma greeted them, her eyes all over Luke. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Andi.”

“Ditto.” She added another introduction. “Luke Denton, Emma Wren Mueller.”

“Oh. You’re the one Andi hired,” Emma said.

“That’s right.” Luke nodded.

“If you can get the Carreras put away, more power to you,” she said.

“That’s certainly the long-term goal,” Luke answered.

She accepted that, taking a few more swallows, then turned to Andi. “I guess I left too early. Carter called and told me that he’d met with one of the Carreras and offered up the cottages. Like hell.”

“He needs both of our signatures.”

“We’re not getting in bed with them. Carter knows that.”

“Apparently not,” Andi disagreed. She took another sip of her Sprite. Their burgers arrived and she felt her stomach seize. Oh no. She swallowed and asked Ben and Emma, “Are you two having dinner?”

“Nah . . .” Emma said with an airy wave.

“Yeah, we are,” Ben declared at the same moment.

“Go ahead.” Emma shrugged and looked around. Her drink was empty.

“We’re both going to eat,” Ben argued, but Emma had already gotten up from the table and was heading back to the bar. “Fuck,” he said softly between his teeth, then he threw back his chair and stalked after his wife.

“Nope, not a good idea,” Luke said, gazing after him.

There followed an argument between Emma and Ben that became louder by the minute. It finished with Ben grabbing her by the elbow and Emma furiously shaking him off. He leaned in and said a few words and then she shouldered her way past him and headed to the ladies’ room.

“I think I’ll go, too,” Andi said, rising from her chair. She swayed on her feet and her head buzzed. Oh hell no. She wasn’t going to faint again, was she?

Luke reached out a hand and steadied her. “What’s going on?”

“I feel a little weird.” And crampy.

His eyes searched hers, as if he knew she was holding back. “We’ll leave when you get back to the table.”

“Okay.”

Alarmed, Andi followed in Emma’s wake. What was wrong with her? When she entered the restroom she found Emma swaying on her feet in front of the mirror, glaring at her own reflection. Andi threw her a look.

“He’s going to sell us out, y’know,” Emma said bitterly. “He’s always been a son of a bitch.”

“Carter isn’t—” She inhaled sharply and bent over as a hard cramp suddenly racked her insides.

“What’s wrong?” Emma asked, poising in the act of reapplying lipstick to her smudged mouth as Andi tried to straighten. Before she could stand up she was overcome by another cramp. Spots danced before her eyes and she put out a hand as she toppled forward. Oh God no. The baby. No!

“Andi, you’re bleeding!” Emma declared in shock.

Oh, please . . . please, God, no . . .

Andi stared at the drops of red smeared on the tile floor in blank horror. She was seized by a cramp that doubled her up and Emma cried, “You need help! We need help! What’s wrong? Oh, God, what’s wrong?”

“The baby,” Andi moaned as a gush of blood followed, and that was all she knew.





Chapter Nine



“. . . Em shoulda taken over that company,” Ben Mueller was saying, but Luke scarcely heard him.

“Excuse me,” he said, standing.

“Something I said?”

“No, I just want to check on Andi and Emma.”

“But they’re in the restroom . . .”

Luke ignored him and headed toward the front of the bar, drawing a deep breath. Something was wrong with Andi and he didn’t feel like hanging out with Emma’s husband, who wanted to grouse about damn near everything and didn’t offer much to the conversation. He was anxious to get out of there. Anxious to get Andi home.

He heard a loud, wrenching cry from the women’s room that no one else seemed to notice above the throbbing music and the general din. He was at the door in an instant, hesitating only a moment before throwing it open. What he saw nearly stopped his heart. Andi, out cold on the floor, a spreading stain of blood beneath her, while Emma stood above her, her mouth open in unvoiced horror, her cell phone unheeded in her limp hand.

“Call nine-one-one,” Luke ordered.