A Secret for a Secret (All In #3)(33)

We get off at the next stop, and I silently follow Jake to the medic’s room. Bill is already waiting for us, his bag of supplies laid out on the coffee table.

He makes a face as soon as he sees me. “Oh, man, that’s one hell of a reaction. Are those hives? Aren’t they itchy?”

“Yes and yes,” I say with a nod. The worst of the itching is below the belt. I’m actually nervous about what things might look like down there at the moment, considering how uncomfortable I am.

Bill ushers us inside, motions for me to take a seat on the couch, and begins by inspecting my face and looking inside my mouth. “Okay, no swelling of the tongue, so that’s a positive. It’s not anaphylactic, but I think we should probably have you retested, since this seems to be a pretty intense reaction.” He holds my chin and shifts my head from side to side. “So this is from strawberries, huh? What’d you do, smear it all over your face? It’s all down your neck too.” He pulls at the collar of my shirt. “How far down does it go, King?”

“I, uh . . . it’s not . . . it doesn’t go too far,” I stammer, and then I glance over at Jake, who legitimately looks like he’s going to murder me.

He pushes off the edge of the dresser. “I’m going to let you two manage this. King, I’d like you to stop by my room before you head back to your own. I’m right next to Queenie, across the hall from you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You sure you don’t want to wait? I’m going to give him a shot and some cream and he’ll be good to go.”

“I’m sure.” Jake nods stiffly and leaves.

“He’s in a mood,” Bill mutters once the door slams shut.

“I’m sure he’s just tired.”

Bill makes a sound and stabs me in the arm with a needle. Then he gives me some anti-itch and cortisone cream to help settle the hives and the swelling. “I’ll get you set up with a new set of allergy tests when we get back to Seattle and make sure we don’t need to be carrying around an EpiPen for you, just in case.”

“Okay, thanks, sir.” I push up off the couch and run a hand through my hair. I try to smooth it out a little more as I head for the door.

“And next time, tell whoever you’re getting friendly with not to eat strawberries beforehand. It’ll save you a lot of discomfort.”

“I wasn’t—”

Bill raises his hand to stop me. It’s not as if I can complete that sentence without outright lying. “Get some rest and stay out of trouble’s way, King.”

I have messages from Queenie waiting for me as I get into the elevator and head back up to my floor. She wants to know how I am and requests that I message as soon as I’m done. I put a hold on that, since I need to talk to her dad before I do anything else.

I decide it’s a good idea to stop in my room first and quickly wash off the strawberry residue and the smell of Queenie before I visit Jake in his room. I have my key card poised over the sensor when the door across the hall flies open. He wasn’t lying about being next to Queenie, and he looks less than impressed.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Jake leans against the doorjamb.

“I’m supposed to wash my face and put some of this cream on, but it can wait.” I desperately want to calm the itch and the discomfort, but based on how unhappy Jake looks, I think it would be a better idea to just bite the bullet. Hopefully not literally. I slip the cream into my pants pocket and take a step in Jake’s direction.

He moves aside and allows me into his room. I notice the adjoining room door. The low tones of music come from the other side. Where Queenie probably is right now.

The door slams shut behind me. I wonder if this is how reluctant MMA fighters feel when they get into the ring with a superior opponent.

Jake crosses the room and retrieves a bottle of scotch from the fridge. He removes the cap and pours himself a glass but doesn’t offer me one. He takes a hefty gulp. Then he stares at the wall for a long time before he finally looks my way. “I asked you to watch out for Queenie.”

“Yes, sir, you did.”

“I trusted you with her welfare.”

“Yes, sir, you did.” I want to scratch my stomach so badly right now.

He takes another massive gulp of his scotch, and I grimace at the memory of that flavor. I really don’t like scotch. “It looks like that trust was misplaced.”

“On the contrary, I don’t believe it was.”

His eyes narrow in suspicion. “I’m not an idiot. I know what the hell was going on. Look at yourself.” He flings a hand out. “You’re a disheveled mess. You know how many times I’ve seen you anything but put together? Never. Until now. I know my daughter, and I am very well aware of the effect she can have on people. It was a mistake to bring her on as my assistant.” He paces the room. “I should’ve known better.”

“With all due respect, I disagree. Queenie is an exceptional woman, and she’s doing a fantastic job as your assistant. Even though this job isn’t something she’s necessarily passionate about, she goes above and beyond at every opportunity. She’s done everything she can to prove that you made the right decision, sir, and she would be devastated if she knew you felt this way.” I glance toward the adjoining door. Music is still playing on the other side, muffled but there.