Page 10 of Double Bucked

“Christ—settle down, woman.”

Woman. I’ve never heard anyone speak to Claire like that and keep their head.

“He’s dead!” she snarls. “He’s dead, Ransom!”

The man—Ransom—takes her anger. “I know. I know. I’m sorry.”

“Fuck your sorrys,” she chokes out. “Fuck you.”

“I know.”

“Ransom…”

“I know, Claire.”

“…Ran…som…”

As she says his name, her eyelashes flutter. My muscles coil, but it’s unnecessary. Ransom tightens his grip on her arms, keeping her upright just as she crumples forward, going limp.

Claire has fainted. Right into this stranger’s arms.

I climb the steps and extend my arms. “I’ll take it from here.”

Ransom cradles her dead weight and furrows his eyebrows at me. “Who in the clam chowder fuck are you?”

“Her fiancé.” It’s something to see all the light leave a man’s face. Gently, I scoop Claire into my arms, and Ransom releases her, transferring her weight to me. She’s light, but the weight of her exhaustion is palpable as her head turns against my chest.

“Would you kindly open the door?” I ask.

Ransom eyes me suspiciously, but he reaches for a ring of keys at his belt.

4

CLAIRE

When I open my eyes, I expect to see the rosy walls of my Paris flat, the tiny spaces made bigger by the arched windows that send my gaze over a skyline rolling with rounded rooftops. I expect to smell percolating coffee and warm, fresh loaves from the café downstairs.

Instead, I see the beige curtains of a canopy bed. Dust catches on shards of light and glitters.

“Good morning.”

The mattress compresses as James sits down beside me. I groan, touching my temples. My vision feels purple and bruised. There’s a migraine on my horizon. “What happened?”

“You fainted. Take this.”

In one hand, he offers a glass of water. In the other, an Advil. I take the water from him, pop the Advil, and take a slow, small sip. The pill feels like a rock going down, and my stomach clenches up in protest.

“Now, eat,” he demands next. He holds out a plate, upon which sits a plain piece of buttered toast. The plate is ornamented with swirling patterns and Daddy’s initials—RCP. A not-so-gentle reminder of whose house I’m in.

A reminder that fills me with a nauseous heat. I ignore the food as memories filter back through my skull. “Where’s Ransom?”

James stares at me through his glasses. “Riley Ransom and Deputy Holden are waiting downstairs.” He goes quiet for a minute, and then he asks the question that’s bugging him. “Riley is?—?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Yes.”

“The man who?—?”

“Yes.”

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