Unbreakable (City Lights, #2)(100)

I nearly asked who Georgia was ‘chatmailing’ but that would be going too far. It was enough to know she wasn’t up to something worse. Still, the nagging unease remained. I forced a smile. “Dinner? Have you eaten?”

“No. Can I have mac n’cheese?”

“Of course.”

“I love you, Daddy,” Callie said suddenly, and threw her arms around my neck.

“Thanks, honey.” I held her tightly. “I had a rough day. This is just what I needed.”

“Me too,” she sniffed. “Rough day.”

#

I dreamt in flashes and shards, images sprayed over broken glass and covered in blood. Alex screamed but I couldn’t find her and then Frankie nudged my shoulder with the butt of his gun, laughing like a loon. “You’re too late. She’s already dead.”

I jerked awake, blinking, disoriented. Then Georgia’s spare, yet neat apartment resolved around me: lots of potted plants and rattan furniture. She stood over me, nudging my shoulder.

I sat up. “What time is it?”

“Late. Sorry.”

I glanced at my watch. “Fuck, Georgia, it’s after midnight.”

She planted her hands on her slender waist. “You got somewhere to be?”

“I’ve got the inspection tomorrow morning at eight a.m.,” I said, searching her face. She wasn’t drunk or stoned. Her green eyes were clear and hard. Her clothing wasn’t rumpled or disheveled in any way. She looked the same as when she’d left. Just ‘chatmailing’? For six hours? “Are you okay? You’ve been all over the place lately.”

She sniffed and crossed her arms. “Like you would know.” Then her demeanor softened and she flounced onto the couch beside me. Patchouli and mint wafted over me. “It is late,” she said, her fingers lightly stroking the hair at my temple, running her finger along the scar on my right eyebrow—a souvenir from old Frankie. “You want to stay? It’s been a long time.” She moved closer, ran her hand up my thigh, breathed hotly in my ear. “A real long time. Too long…”

“No, Georgia.” I disentangled myself from her and stood up. “No.”

“Oh, what?” she huffed. “Don’t get all coy and precious on me.”

“We can’t do that anymore.”

“Why? Because of her? Are you f*cking her?” She snorted a laugh. “Why do I ask? Of course you are.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“The hell it isn’t! I have a right to know if you’re bringing some woman into my daughter’s life. Callie will be living in her house. I don’t know what she’s like. I don’t know if she’s trustworthy.”

“She’s fine. She’s trustworthy. And Callie won’t be living with her, anyway...” Won’t she? What if I tell Alex...and she feels the same…?

I shook my head. “Where were you tonight, Georgia?”

She flinched, dropped her arms. “None of your business.”

“Yeah, exactly. I gotta go.” I grabbed my jacket. “And take it easy on Callie, would you? She seemed pretty upset.”

Georgia bit her thumbnail and raised her eyebrows. “So speaketh the weekend father.”

I cursed and threw open the door.

Georgia hurried to me before I could leave. “Wait, I’m…uh. Thanks. Thanks, for coming. Short notice and all.”

I sighed. “Sure, Georgia. No problem.”

#

It was nearly one a.m. by the time I made it back to California Avenue, and I hung my head over the note on the counter, written on the same paper as mine.

I tried to wait up. Long day. Talk tomorrow?

~A

I crumpled the paper and threw it in the trash. I had half a mind to go and wake her up but if she was able to get some rest without being plagued by nightmares, I wasn’t going to wreck it for her.

“Tomorrow, then,” I muttered. Alex had some sort of lunch date every Monday and I had the inspection but I’d be damned before I let either stand in the way.

I flopped onto the couch and flung my arm over my eyes, hoping against hope that sleep would come and sweep me under to someplace dark and deep, where there were no dreams. Instead, the minutes ticked by and I was about to give in and turn on the TV when a blood-curdling scream came from Alex’s room.

This time, I didn’t wait for a second cry. I sprinted to her, my heart aching for the terror in her voice. I found her tangled in the sheets, her face drawn in a mask of terror.

“No! No, no, Cory, no!”

“Shhh, I’m here, Alex, I’m here.”

I took her by the shoulders to stop her thrashing, and in the dimness, I saw her eyes—wide and staring—taking me in, disbelieving. She held my face in her hands, studying my eyes.

“Cory…?” Recognition dawned, and she slumped, the tightly coiled tension dropping away. I pulled her to me. “Oh god, it was unreal.”

“Tell me,” I said, stroking her hair.

“No, it’s too terrible—”

“Tell me. Get it out.”

She heaved a tremulous breath. “Do you remember when Amita…Patel? Do you remember when Amita Patel was being released? And Connor, that soulless monster in the Dracula mask…he put the gun to your head? And…he said those horrible words…”