Page 20 of Avenging Kelly

8

KELLY

Pounding head. Dry mouth. Queasy stomach. Hangover… fuck.

I wasn’t much of a drinker, but that golden wine Rafe was pouring was damn smooth and had me fucked up in no time. I was sure the devil had something to do with creating an ambrosia so wicked but so delicious.

I tried to sit up, but my goddamn head was ready to explode, so I flopped back onto the fluffy pillow and closed my eyes for a few more minutes. I remembered snippets of the previous night—Rafe, Dallas, and London peppering me with questions, but the exact questions and my answers to them eluded me.

There were voices from the lower level that carried up the stairs, so I sat up again and threw my legs over the side of the mattress, steeling myself to start the day. I needed to remember what I’d actually said the previous night. They were already in danger because they had me with them. Giving away too much information would guarantee they’d be targets, which I was coming to think Mathis had been. I couldn’t let anyone be hurt again on my account.

I saw white tablets and water on the table next to the bed—thankfully—so I took them without a second thought of what they might be. I vaguely remembered London helping me into bed and mentioning the pills, so I must have trusted him more than I’d expected in such a short time, considering my history with Operation Jackpot.

After a hot shower and a touch-up shave, I dressed in sweats and headed toward the laughter in the kitchen. The delicious scents hit me first, and my stomach rumbled. The aroma of sugar and cinnamon, along with bacon, was pretty damn enticing.

“Good morning, sunshine,” London greeted with a knowing smirk about the state of my throbbing head.

His brother, Dallas, chuckled at me as his eyes followed me through the room. I was sure I was quite a sight with my glassy, red-eyed glare at all in attendance. I had the feeling they’d been talking about me before I walked in, but then again, I’d become paranoid with good reason—thanks to Operation Jackpot and my addiction to Poker Chips.

“Rafe left you a plate,” Dallas stated as he rose from his seat and went to the oven, opening the door and grabbing a potholder. London poured me a cup of coffee and pointed to a chair at the table, so I took a seat to watch the St. Michael brothers serve me breakfast.

“Where is the chef?” I asked as I picked up a navy napkin and draped it over my lap.

“He went to the mainland for supplies,” Dallas answered quickly. Clearly, he had that one ready to go, which raised my suspicions. Where was the chef, and what was he doing?

“I thought there was no way off the island. I thought the boat wasn’t anchored here,” I snapped back.

London cleared his throat. “It’s not. The park rangers use it to go back and forth to the mainland, and they allowed Rafe to tag along this morning when the shift changed. He’ll get another ride back after he’s done shopping.” I nodded.

He then continued. “Look, I’ll be honest with you, Kelly. You’re here at one of GEA’s safe houses, and now we’re all at risk. We seriously need more background information on Operation Jackpot and that voodoo doctor, Frances Ritchfield. Rafe went to the mainland to call in a favor or two for us, but you gotta tell us more, man.”

“Did you not listen to me when I—”

“Oh, we did, but if you want off this island to hunt those assholes who took Mia, we gotta figure out how to destroy that fucking chip. You also gotta tell us more about the people who run that program and what they might be up to—especially if you believe we’re in danger,” London pointed out, his authoritative voice sending a shiver of desire down my spine.

Dallas stood, a triumphant expression on his face. “Why don’t we just tase him?”

“What?” London and I gasped at the same time.

“Well, I’m guessing we don’t have access to industrial magnets, so we give him a jolt. Either we get him to stick a fork in an outlet—though that might not be strong enough—or we tase him. I’ve got mine with me,” Dallas explained as he pointed toward his room.

On the couple of occasions I’d been tased, I’d pissed my pants each time. It was before I’d been chipped, so I really didn’t know if it would work or not, but hell, I was ready to try anything to get from under the unending surveillance of Las Vegas—as we called the United States Pentagon.

I considered it for another moment before I announced, “I’m game.”

Dallas was going to have to turn that Taser up to full blast if we had a remote chance of being successful, especially with Poker Chips flowing through my system. I had no idea if it would hinder the jolt or kill me, but at that point, I didn’t give a shit.

“Let me get ready,” I told them before I took off to the restroom to empty my bladder. The last thing I wanted was to piss my pants in front of Dallas or more importantly, London.

I liked the guy a lot, and if that kiss he’d given me the day before was any sign that he might like me in return, I didn’t want to jeopardize it. Yeah, I was a teenager again…

I pulled on a pair of socks and hurried back into the kitchen. “Let’s do it somewhere that we can clean up if the worst happens,” I recommended. I tilted my head in hopes they knew what I meant, so I didn’t have to say it out loud.

London raised an eyebrow, but Dallas spoke up with a knowing glance. “Hey, man, it happens to everyone. It’s happened to me every fucking time. No worries. Let’s go out on the deck,” Dallas suggested. I nodded as he left the room, likely to retrieve his TASER.

“You don’t have to do this. There has to be a better way to deactivate the chip,” London stated, his eyes studying me carefully.

I chuckled. “It’s not that big a deal, really. I’ve done it before, so if it works, great. If it doesn’t, I’m still leaving today,” I insisted.

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