Unspoken (Shadow Falls: After Dark #3)(97)

Chase had fallen into bed, not that he planned to sleep, but to wait out the need to puke. The three ice cold beers and nasty-tasting bottle of wine didn’t sit well. Or maybe it was that damn soup.

He closed his eyes to stop the spinning, then heard a tap against his window. He shot up and saw the bird. Then he saw the bubbles popping against the window pane.

Two seconds later, he caught the shape-shifter’s scent. What the hell did Steve want?

Wasn’t it enough that he’d just taken Chase’s bondmate on a date? Did the guy want to gloat about it? Was he an idiot?

He grabbed his jeans and shirt and went to the door.

Steve stood there. Breathing hard.

Chase stood there. Breathing hard too, and trying not to throw up.

“What?” Chase asked and right then he caught it. Della’s scent.

He tightened his fist and fought the urge to hit the guy.

“Della,” Steve said, trying to catch his breath.

“Della what?” Chase asked, getting a bad feeling.

“She … she needs you.”

Chase ran to the porch rail and threw up all of the alcohol he’d spent the night consuming.

Then he turned back, wiped his mouth off with the back of his wrist, and asked, “Where is she?”

*

Della sat in front of a desk, at the hospital’s main office, trying as hard as she could to be supremely polite and perfectly poised. Not easy, because neither came naturally to her.

Especially when her little trip here had offered her nothing.

And now she couldn’t help but wonder if someone hadn’t already snagged her father’s files.

Was it the DA? Did they now have evidence in their hands to make sure her father went down for murder?

Della had refused to give anyone her name—hoping that alone would hold them off from calling the police.

Not that she had remained silent the whole time. She’d apologized profusely and explained that she’d wandered in earlier that day before closing hours and somehow found herself locked in the room upstairs.

The woman in charge, Mrs. Applebee, if the name tag was correct, kept asking Della if she was a runaway. She told her no. The woman didn’t actually believe her, but considering the guard’s story, she didn’t look all that bad.

“She can move things,” the guard started up again. “I’m telling you, she was throwing boxes at me with her mind. She’d look up and down would come a box. And that’s when my gun went off.”

Della wasn’t certain if that was actually what had happened, but she had seen the box hit. What she had been certain about was that the bullet had missed her by a few inches.

Right then she noticed that the guard had moved his chair another inch away from her. He’d probably pee himself if Della growled at him.

She might have felt sorry for him if she hadn’t smelled the whiskey on his breath. And from Mrs. Applebee’s expression, she’d gotten a whiff of the guy’s breath as well. That might even be why she was hesitant to call the police. That and the fact that he’d used his gun while intoxicated and shot at an unarmed teen.

Hell, maybe she could use that in her favor.

So far Della hadn’t tried to explain the mess of the upended boxes and files littering the floor. But if the guard kept talking crazy, maybe Della wouldn’t have to.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. How long would it take for Chase to get here? Any minute now, the woman would be calling the police.

Della had hidden her driver’s license, credit card, and phone in her bra, but if they searched her and found them … and, God forbid, attempted to call her mom … No way could Della let that happen. Her mom had enough problems to last a lifetime.

She looked at the door, wondering how much trouble she’d be in if she ran. And she could run: Mrs. Applebee had confiscated the guard’s gun and put it in her desk.

Just when the idea of running seemed like a real option, she recalled the cameras on the outside of the office. They had her face.

Where was her rescue?

Right then her left breast started vibrating. Well, her phone started vibrating. Luckily, she’d silenced it before breaking and entering.

She glanced again at the door. What was taking them so long? Crap. She suddenly remembered that Steve probably thought Chase was still at the school. Which meant Steve would have sought help elsewhere. Her chest tightened and she expected to see a very pissed off Burnett walking through the door any second.

But right now, she’d even take him.

“I’m telling you, she was throwing boxes at me using her mind. She has powers. I’ve seen shows about people who can do that.”

Mrs. Applebee frowned. “Mr. Kelley, just how much have you had to drink tonight?” Then the woman’s gaze shifted to Della. “Tell me your name or I’m calling the police, young lady!”

*

After Steve had finally spit out the words, Chase went inside and in less than thirty seconds dressed in his official black suit. Tasting his breath, he reached into the garbage can, grabbed the Lysol spray, and gave it a shot. It was mostly air, not disinfectant.

Or maybe not. He fought the urge to puke again.

Handing Steve his car keys, Chase told the shape-shifter to meet him at St. Mary’s. Face it, in the dark sky, there was no speed limit or rules about driving after one too many drinks.