Unbreakable (City Lights, #2)(18)

Wolfman hissed a sigh from under his mask. “Quit the bullshit, Frankie. The last thing we need right now is a dead hostage. The food is here. Let’s go.”

Frankie let himself be dragged to the door, as if Wolfman were the only thing holding him back. He stopped and jabbed a finger at Cory. “Give me a reason. Just one more…”

The door slammed shut and eight people breathed a sigh of relief at once.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Carol seethed at Roy.

“I just…I…” Roy shook his head miserably.

Carol flapped a hand at him irritably, and crawled over to examine Cory’s brow. “Lovely lump. I can’t tell if you have a concussion or not. Feel nauseous? No? Well, don’t go to sleep. Not for a while yet. And you need stitches. At least ten. He clocked you good. And I have to stop this bleeding.”

“Here.” Roy withdrew a monogrammed silk handkerchief from his suit pocket. Tanya passed it to Sylvie who passed it to me. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

Carol snatched it from my hand and dabbed carefully at Cory’s wound. “You should be. This young man saved your butt.” She turned her pale blue gaze to Amita. “And yours.”

Amita took the Bluetooth device from her ear. “Battery’s gone.” She put her hand on Cory’s shoulder, her large dark eyes regarding him gratefully, shamefully. “Carol’s right. I was going to speak up, to show Frankie I was the one…But I couldn’t move or speak or even breathe. I’m sorry. I’m sorry and thank you.”

Jealousy, like a second hunger, writhed in my gut for the way Amita looked at Cory, and I averted my eyes.

“Forget it, I’m fine,” Cory said. “What’s the news? Wolfman sounded tense. Like things weren’t going so well for them.”

“Yes, but that’s not good for us.” Amita glanced at the door before saying more. “The leader—Dracula—has been trying to negotiate a safe way out. Seems as if he had a plan but S.W.A.T. thwarted it. Blocked him somehow. The dispatcher wouldn’t give me details. Dracula knows he’s in over his head and the only way out is by using us.”

“W-what does that mean?” Gil asked. “Use us?”

“As bartering chips,” Amita said, her voice was smooth, rich, faintly accented. “He released someone from another room. That’s how we’re getting pizza. Now the sergeant in charge wants him to release more of us but Dracula wants safe transport out, which the police are dragging their feet to give, of course. The dispatcher was trying to warn me. I could tell. To be careful.” She glanced at each of us with large dark eyes. “If Dracula doesn’t get what he wants he’s going to show the police that he’s serious.”

“H-how?” Gil asked.

“We’re the currency here,” Roy said, some of his bluster returning. “A hostage walks, and we eat. Free another, and we get some water. That’s the cops getting what they want. But what do you think happens when monster squad wants something and the cops won’t give it? Then we’re expendable.”

The import of his words sunk in, made all the more terrible when Amita nodded. Silence fell and then Frankie returned to haphazardly toss a plain cheese pizza and a pack of water bottles into the center of the floor. He looked dull and tired, a complete 180 from the twitchy, jumpy bastard of only moments earlier.

“Eat up, piggies,” he said, wiping his nose on his sleeve, and shuffling out.

He’s coming down, I thought, wondering if that was good or bad for us. Everyone snatched up a water bottle but no one moved to take a slice.

“Come on, guys,” Cory said. “Eat.”

“And what about you?” Carol demanded. “Are you nauseous?”

Cory smiled crookedly. “I’m waiting for the beer.”

This helped to loosen some of the tension, and one by one, the others reached for their slice of lukewarm pizza.

Everyone fell into various conversations. Gil and Roy talked across the room about certain drug company’s stock prospects; Sylvie and Tanya chatted quietly in their corner, while Amita spoke intently with Carol about their professions—turned out Amita was in med school.

“How are you, really?” I asked Cory.

“I’m good. I think the bleeding’s slowed. Hurts like a bastard, I won’t lie.”

“What can I do?”

“Talk to me. Keep my mind off of it.”

“Okay, but no dozing on me.”

“Better make it interesting then.”

I rolled my eyes, though secretly I was pleased. “I’ll do my best. Although I’m not sure what would make good bank hostage conversation.”

“I’d say pretty much anything,” Cory said. “How about we rewind to before all this crap. To when we met. Those envelopes you dropped? They looked pretty fancy. Birthday?”

“Uh, no,” I said. “They’re engagement party invitations. Mine and my fiancé’s.”

“Oh.” Cory looked straight ahead for a moment then smiled, though I could see it was tense and didn’t touch his eyes.

“So, when’s the big day?”

“January.”

“That’s good.” He looked away, nodding. “Yeah, that’s good for you.”