Page 25 of Black Bird

Athan stilled. “You’re still gonna go?”

“If they wanted me dead, they failed. Obviously, they wanna play. If that’s the case … then I plan to show them I’m game.” She raised the cigarette to her mouth and half-smiled at him as she pulled on it, tendrils of smoke snaking out of her nose. Their heads turned toward the door as loud footsteps traveled up the stairs. Athan put a hand on his gun. “It’s okay, it’s just Wren. I’d know those big ass feet anywhere.”

No sooner had she said it, Wren struggled through the door, arms full of Sarah’s belongings. Athan stood, rushing over to help as she kicked the door closed with her foot. “Sorry it took so long.” Wren grinned, holding up a white plastic bag. “I stopped to get you a little welcome home gift.” She tossed the bag to Sarah, who quickly tore into it and pulled out a black t-shirt.

“Ha!” Sarah cackled, turning it around so Athan could read it. “I think I’ll wear it on my first day at work.” He read the front.“Guess what fuckers … I survived.”in big red letters. Athan smirked and sat Sarah’s bag and laptop on the loveseat. His phone started ringing a moment later.

“Rhaena … what you got?” he answered.

“Where are you?”

Athan glanced at Sarah and noticed the change in her expression. “I’m not far from the house. You need me?”

“We need to talk. I’m about ten minutes out. Meet me there. Hurry up.”

She hung up on him, and he pocketed his phone.

“Uh oh.” Sarah smiled. “Did we get you in trouble?”

“No. Iamtrouble. I gotta head back. You gonna be okay?”

“We’re fine.” She nodded. “If it’ll help, take those with you.” She pointed at the papers still sitting on the table.

“You don’t mind? I can scan them and bring them back.”

“Do that.” Sarah winked. Athan bristled, suddenly remembering the moment of weakness in the bathroom earlier. He grabbed the papers and dipped his chin at both of them and made his way to the door. “Detective …” Sarah called as he opened it. He looked back at her. “I’m sorry … again.”

“Me too.”

“Sorry for what?” Wren mused, looking between them as he shut the door. He didn’t stick around to hear the rest of that conversation as he tucked the papers into his jacket and approached his bike. He started it up and shoved his head into his helmet, glancing up at Sarah’s window above the gallery and finding her standing in it. Wren popped her head over her shoulder, and he took off, cursing himself for being so stupid.

If Rhaena ever found out what happened in that apartment today, she’d rip out his throat. He could just about do it himself. At least they had more today than they’d started out with. He hoped Rhaena had something.

Brent stared at the unanswered texts and outgoing calls on his phone, wondering if there was something wrong with the thing as he waited in the elevator at the community hospital. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t the phone. Deep down … he knew Wren had been right in what she’d said the other day. Maybe she didn’t want to marry him. Maybehedidn’t want to be married yet. Not for these reasons. He knew his father wasn’t a good man. Being like him wouldn’t solve anything. Maybe Sarah just needed time to get through this trauma. He’d ask her when they could be alone. Yet, the thought that kept burning through his mind was that she seemed to be growing more distant even before the attack. Whatever attraction they’d had before their engagement seemed to die out since he’d proposed. He couldn’t figure out if that was his fault, or just that the feeling he’d had when Conrad pressed that box into his palm had been right … maybe she wasn’t the one.

The doors opened and he stepped out of the elevator into the hallway, making his way to Sarah’s room. A familiar arrangement of flowers sat atop the counter at the nurse’s station, and he glanced inside the room to find it being cleaned and prepared for the next patient. The nurse behind the counter stood.

“Mr. Stratford … she’s been discharged, sir. She left a couple of hours ago. Did no one call you?” Her fingers nervously fidgeted in front of her.

“They did not. Who’d she leave with? The redhead?” Brent tried to get a hold on his rising temper.

“Yes … and the detective.”

He could feel his muscles tensing and the tips of his ears heating, no doubt turning five shades of red. “Which detective?”

“I don’t remember his name, I’m sorry.”

His name.

“Are those hers?” Brent asked, trying to hide the tremor of rage in his voice and pointing to the vase of flowers.

“Umm … yes. She didn’t take them with her, and we hated to throw them out. It’s a beautiful arrangement. Do you want to—”

“Keep them.”

“These are hers, sir. They weren’t ready when she left. I figured since you’re already here, we wouldn’t have to call them back to the hospital.” She handed him a small white paper bag with her prescriptions inside and he tightened his mouth and nodded at her.

Brent turned away, his pride shot to hell, and stormed back to the elevator. He could have wept with gratitude that no one was inside when he pressed the button to close the doors. He screamed loudly, punching as hard as he could into the metal wall. She’d left withhim. He knew it probably had a great deal to do with Wren and the fact that she’d do just about anything to separate them, but he couldn’t really blame her. He couldn’t blame the handsome, tattooed detective either. Had he been here, instead of that damned meeting earlier, Brent himself would have probably been able to take her home. Maybe she was pissed because he wasn’t.

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