Page 17 of Wild Angel

I’m already too wired. More caffeine would be disastrous.

What I should do is go upstairs and try to get some sleep. Nyx is safe for now, but she’ll want to start looking for her sisters as soon as she’s awake.

The sedative I put in her drink at the club will only keep her down for a few hours. I’d hoped to have a solid lead by then, but I’m even more in the dark than when I picked her up from the motel.

My time is running out.

Phoebe and Athena’s too.

“You stay here,” I tell Vito. “Call me if anything happens. I’m going to see her.”

Vito’s dark eyes are carefully blank when he looks at me. “Sure that’s a good idea?”

I cock my head, daring him to ask me again. He shrugs, looks away, happily accepts another serving of bacon from the serving girl, and then checks out her ass when she turns away.

“See you tomorrow then.”

My jaw aches how I clench it, but I don’t say anything. Sergio is looking my way, perhaps noticing that I’m getting ready to leave.

“On your way already?” Sergio asks.

“Need to get some sleep,” I tell him. “Thank you for breakfast.”

It’s my fucking house more than it’s his, but because he’s higher up in the cartel, I defer to him.

Always.

On fucking everything.

It’s really starting to piss me off.

I go upstairs—to shower, to change, and to check on Father. He’s asleep when I get there, but I go and open the curtains so he can get some sunlight in the room. When I turn back to the bed, I regret my decision.

He doesn’t look any better than he did yesterday before we left. He looks ten times worse.

I take out my cell phone and try Doctor Felipe Gomez’s number, but it’s off and goes straight to voicemail. I leave him another terse message, my bicep suddenly aching.

Never got that fucking tetanus shot, did I?

I purse my lips as I lay a careful hand on Father’s pasty forehead. His skin is cold and he doesn’t wake at my touch.

Lifting the cover draped over his shoulder, I gently pull away the edge of his bandage. The skin around the bullet hole looks as healthy as can be expected—red, but not puffy. From what I can see through the gauze, the wound is starting to scab over.

None of this makes any fucking sense.

I head out of his room at a fast walk, trying Doc on my phone again.

Voicemail.

I don’t leave a message.

The next time I speak to Doc, it’ll be in person.

Chapter Ten

Nyx

My eyes ease open, but I just lie on my back and stare up at the featureless ceiling above me for the longest time. I feel like one of those flat cartoons after they were driven over by a roller.

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