Page 83 of TBR: Dead But Well Read

The gallery was a large warehouse, and the team had outdone themselves, decorating the interior with various vines, flowers and giant leafed plants that could be found in the Amazon. It gave the viewer the feeling of walking through a jungle, and created the perfect backdrop for the pottery, jewelry, and paintings.

Everything had been fine until I’d decided to sit and rest my feet for a minute. I found a quiet corner and pulled out my phone to check the time and somehow clicked open my Kindle app.

I hadn’t intended to read anything, but the next thing I knew, I’d been reading for an hour. If it weren’t for the sensation of a bug crawling around under my shirt, it was possible I’d still be sitting in the corner of the gallery reading to this very day.

With an ear-piercing shriek, I’d scrambled to my feet, desperate to get the bug out of my shirt. To anyone watching, I probably looked like I thought I was at a rave, and it was my mindless panic that had sent me running headlong into an early grave.

I’d rushed toward the bathroom, shoving open the door and trying to rip my shirt over my head.

“You don’t deserve the power you have. It’s wasted on you.”

I froze with one arm out of my shirt, and the other stuck beside my head. “Is someone there?”

Had I run into the men’s bathroom and started stripping? This was exactly why I stayed home—to avoid discovering how incredibly adept I was at coming up with new and creative ways to humiliate myself.

“She has nothing to do with this!” The second male’s furious roar echoed around me, making it impossible to know which direction it was coming from.

Something slammed into me with enough force to send me hurtling backward. My back connected with cold, hard metal. I lay motionless, confused, and unable to suck in a breath.

“Don’t! It’s not her time!” The anguish in the man’s voice had me wanting to comfort him. Which was weird, since I was pretty sure he was talking about me and I wasn’t going to be going home tonight. Or ever again.

A sharp pain sliced across my stomach, followed by the sound of metal banging against metal and grunts. When silence fell, it was so absolute that I thought for a minute I’d gone deaf.

Why was I so cold?

The quiet was broken by a man’s labored breathing.

Was it my attacker or the guy who felt bad for me? My arms felt like they were made of concrete, and by the time I freed my head from my shirt, I was gasping as though I’d just run up twenty flights of stairs.

I lay on the cold ground and took stock of my surroundings. Stars twinkled against a navy-blue background above me, and tall brick walls rose around me.

If my arms hadn’t felt so impossibly heavy, I would have facepalmed. Thanks to my deep-seated terror of all things creepy crawly, I’d shoved open the wrong door. Instead of the bathroom, I’d rushed into the alley behind the gallery… and straight into the lead role in a future murder podcast episode.

Twisting my head to the side, I found a man lying on the asphalt a few feet from me. A pool of crimson was spreading out from beneath him. I couldn’t feel my body below the deep gash across my stomach, but with effort, I dragged myself closer to him.

Using my shirt, I tried to put pressure on the worst of his stab wounds.

“You’ll be okay. Just stay with me.” I did my best to sound confident, not wanting him to panic. Scanning the alley, Isearched for my phone to call for help, but I must’ve dropped it when I’d been sneak attacked by the bug.

“You are a terrible liar.” He gave a weak laugh that turned into a wet cough. “I’m dying.”

“No, you’re not. I’m not going to let you.” I had zero medical skills, but I was going to do my best to pep talk him into surviving.

“Death is my area of expertise. I think I know what I’m talking about.” His words were so soft I had to lean in to hear him.

A dizzying wave of pain rolled through me, and my muscles no longer obeyed the orders my brain gave them. I slumped on the ground beside him, and when I looked into his sad eyes, I knew that neither of us were making it out of that alley alive.

He grabbed my hand, squeezing it gently. Even though he was a stranger, I felt a sudden wave of comfort surrounding me. I wasn’t going to die alone.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. You didn’t deserve to die like this,” he whispered.

My lips refused to form words, so all I could do was blink in response.

“I have something he wants, and when I die, he’s going to come back looking for it.” The man choked, each breath he took becoming harder to pull into his lungs.

Still, he was doing better than me. My lungs refused to inflate at all and my shallow gasps were coming further and further apart.

“I can’t let him get his hands on it.”

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