Forget About Midnight (Alexa O'Brien, Huntress #9)(99)

I nodded absently to something he said though I wasn’t listening. The feelings I’d buried regarding Shaz’s unrealistic expectations, Kale’s rejection, and Willow’s advice all threatened to surface. Having my reckless choice to hand Briggs over come back to haunt me so soon was the crap icing on my shit cake.

There was much to be done. Willow’s advice was already proving itself true. I was still a Hound. My purpose still involved battling evil, whether that be Shya, the Feds, or the sick pigs who preyed on the kids Brinley cared so much about. So I would do what I had to do. I just had to find my way out of the madness first. That wasn’t going to happen tonight.

“Falon.” I glided over to him with the smooth, prowling gait of a predator. A gentle breeze of power blew through the room. I let the towel fall. “Shut up.”

Our gazes locked. His words died mid-sentence. I climbed onto his lap, straddling him. And though it wasn’t in his nature, Falon was speechless.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Jez.” I banged on the apartment door, ready to break in if I had to. “I know you’re in there, Jez, so open the door, or I’m coming in anyway.”

Getting into the locked building had been a breeze. It took very little effort to manipulate a lock. Just one of Jez’s neighbors was brave enough to poke her head into the hall to see who was making such a commotion. The lady who peered out at me from the other end of the hall must not have liked what she saw because she closed the door and locked it.

There was no obvious sound from inside, but if I listened carefully, I could hear the murmur of voices. The longer I stood there knocking without an answer, the more worked up I became. If something happened to Jez right after Kale left town… no, not an option.

I’d planned to be there earlier, before I was distracted by Falon. Once he’d scratched the dark itch I hadn’t realized I had, I’d promptly kicked him out of my nightclub. Since we couldn’t work on binding Shya tonight there had been no reason for him to stay any longer once he’d served the purpose I’d wanted from him.

“That’s it, Jez,” I said. “Last warning.”

No answer.

Busting the door down would have been a nice, dramatic way to enter. Since I didn’t want anyone calling the cops, I manipulated the lock with a gentle power push instead. It clicked, and I entered.

The kitchen was dark, and I crossed through it to the empty living room where a lamp cast a dim glow. Voices drifted from Jez’s bedroom. Perhaps I was interrupting an intimate encounter, but something about the energy in the apartment felt off. Wrong. There was more to it.

I banged on her bedroom door and waited. Both voices fell quiet. The rustling of fabric was evident seconds before the door cracked open.

Jez peered out at me, eyes heavy lidded and unfocused. She clutched a sheet much the same way I’d grasped my towel not so long ago. “Alexa? What the hell are you doing here?” She giggled and glanced back at someone I couldn’t see yet. “Is this for real, or am I totally tripping?”

“Oh, this is real.” The narcotics in her system smelled rancid. Toxic. She looked pretty far gone. “I’m coming in.”

I shoved the bedroom door open, and she stumbled back, reaching for me as she tried to catch her balance. I grabbed her arm and steadied her, trying to keep calm. Getting angry wouldn’t help the situation.

An unkempt brunette sat in the bed, holding a blanket up over her nudity. She was as toxic as Jez, perhaps more so since she was human. The bedside table was littered with bottles, cigarette ashes, and a bag of white powder. One of the bottles was overturned, spilling beer onto the floor.

“Why didn’t you call me?” I asked, grabbing Jez by the shoulders so she was forced to meet my gaze.

It didn’t do much good. Her eyes darted about erratically, like she couldn’t look at just one thing. “Call you? Sorry, Lex. I know you’re a fan of the group thing, but I didn’t think you were into girls.” She cackled with far more enthusiasm than her stupid comment warranted.

The woman in the bed watched us with curious amusement.

“Jez, you’re the one who said we needed to help each other through this shit.” Because I couldn’t resist, I slapped her, hoping it would snap her out of it like it sometimes did on TV. It produced more giggles. I pointed at the woman in the bed. “You need to leave. Do you have somewhere safe to go where you won’t be alone?”

She stared at me with large, solemn, doe-like eyes. “I can go home. My sister should be there.”

“Fine. Get dressed. I’ll get you a cab.” I let go of Jez and turned to leave before I did something more drastic, like throwing a closed fist at the laughing leopard.

“Oh, come on, Lex,” she called after me. “Don’t be a party pooper.”

“Five minutes,” I said.

Out in the living room I paced. Dealing with a drugged out shifter was not my area of expertise. I was so angry at Jez for pulling a stunt like this so soon after the talk we’d had. Anger wouldn’t help, I knew that. But it was driven by worry.

I called a taxi for Jez’s lady friend and watched for it out the living room window. Bursting in like a glorified babysitter was not what I wanted. She was right though. We did need each other’s help. So much so that maybe some babysitting was in order. Sad but true.