Page 65 of Cruel Devil

I didn’t want to risk parking outside in case the house is still being patrolled, so we parked two streets over and walked, cutting through a neighbor’s yard to gain access to the tiny patch of grass in Doc’s backyard.

“You think Doc was poisoning him or something?”

“No,” she scoffs. “But the guy must have known he was in a critical state. You said he didn’t mention anything about that to you or Savage?”

“Does this mean you’ve changed your mind about him being a fraud?” I ask, ignoring her question.

No, Doc didn’t say anything to me about Bryan’s condition. It’s possible he told Sergio or Savage, and none of them bothered to relay the info. Shit like that happens all the time, especially when my rank in the cartel leans more toward Racketeering Playboy than Hardcore Enforcer like Savage.

She glances over at me, waiting until I look at her before rolling her eyes. “I saw the medical certificate you shoved in my face,” she says dryly. “It’s legit, which means he’s legit.” It’s not a happy proclamation. But I’d be pissed too if I’d been trying to get my own medical degree and my mother kept messing it up with her cartel lifestyle.

“Then why keep it a secret?”

“He must have run tests, but the results would have been with the rest of his things. Unless we know which lab he used—and he probably paid them under the table, so there wouldn’t be any official records anyway—there’s no way we’ll ever know what the results were.”

We cross the street, and I pull her to a stop on the sidewalk. “What if he was still waiting for the results? Don’t blood tests take a few days?”

She nods, wrapping her arms around herself as a chilly breeze brushes past us. “They do. Even if you rush them, you’re looking at three to five days.”

“Could you run some tests?”

“Yeah, of course.” She starts counting off on her fingers. “We’d have to do a blood count to check for signs of infection. A metabolic panel for organ function. Toxicology screens.” Her hand curls into a fist, which she shoves back into her pouch. “It’ll take a few days, but that should give us enough data to start figuring out why the hell he’s in such bad shape.”

I glance away, then force myself to look at her again. “Is he going to last that long?”

She blows out another breath, studying me for a long moment. “I’m sorry I got so…emotional back there. It was a lot, seeing my mom, seeing how close she is to Bryan, then seeing how critical he was. I kind of blew up.”

I wait for her to finish, probably because I’m delaying the inevitable.

“How long, Andy?”

“I can’t say for sure. Not without test results.” She purses her lips, seeming almost sympathetic. “But if I were you, I’d make sure all his affairs were in order.”

“Fuck.” I drag a cigarette out of its box with my teeth, ignoring Andy’s sour expression as I light it. I hit it hard, and blow out the smoke even harder.

“So we still don’t know who killed Doc, or why. What’s wrong with Bryan, or if we even have enough time to figure any of this shit out before the Domingo cartel loses its capo.” My voice is rougher than I intend it to be. Andy flinches at each consonant, until she decides to turn away from me and stare down the street instead.

I start walking again. “I’m so glad this wasn’t the massive waste of time I thought it would be.”

Andy follows a moment later, head bowed.

I wish I could tell her I’m not pissed at her, but I am. Before she arrived, I was plodding happily along, assuming Bryan would get better, Nyx would be reunited with her sisters, her and Savage would go off on honeymoon, and I could return to my never ending merry-go-round of drugs, booze, and skinny chicks with daddy issues.

I never realized how blissful that ignorance was until Andy shattered it.

Chapter 22

Nyx

“Bella. Bella!”

I sit up in a rush, shoving a hand under my pillow for the gun I keep there…if this had been the Happy Earth Motel, circa: before shit got fucked up.

Instead, I have nothing but my arms to defend myself with as an enormous black beast lunges at me, teeth bared and saliva spraying like it can already taste the marrow of my bones.

The mattress boughs under the creature’s hefty weight, nails scratching me through the sheets as it jumps onto the bed and crashes into me.

“Bella! What did I say about jumping on the bed? Down!”

---