Page 44 of Irreversible

I roll over, doing a few straining sit-ups. My words come out in small puffs of exertion as I question her further. “What kindof science? Astronomy? Medicine?” In my head, the lab coat turns into a sexy nurse’s uniform.

When’s the last time I got laid?

“Spiders.”

I stop mid sit-up. “I’m sorry, what?”

A light laugh; she knows she got me. “I’m not kidding. There’s always been something fascinating about entomology. That’s what I was studying.”

Sitting all the way up, I rest my arms on my knees. Everly Cross is getting more interesting by the minute. “Okay, I did not see that one coming.”

“You should have seen people’s faces when I offered to show them my collection of pets. I had the cutest little jumping spider in an enclosure that was straight out ofLittle Miss Muffet.”

“I have to ask, what got you interested inthat?”

“Originally? I don’t know. Maybe I saw it as a challenge. Girls are expected to be afraid of bugs, and I just liked being different. Then I started learning more. Once you look past the surface and stop thinking of them as scary and off-putting, they’re really fascinating.”

“Well, that explains why you enjoy talking to me.”

She barks out a genuine laugh, then pauses as though pondering this profound truth. “It all makes sense now.”

While listening to her talk about the surprisingly interesting breeding habits of arachnids, I brace my palms on the floor, holding myself in a plank position. Between the bad ankle, sore shoulder, and ribs threatening to crack open and dump my chest cavity onto the floor, I collapse onto my face embarrassingly fast.

A physical therapist would be frowning at my rehabilitation technique, but I might have to snap an ogre’s neck at any time, so how many options do I have?

Holding my side, I carefully roll until my back rests on the cold tile. My physical recovery is inching forward at a snail’s pace. “This isbullshit,” I groan. “At this rate, I’m never going to have the strength to break out of this place.”

Water trickles on the other side of the wall, a sign that Everly is over there taking her twice-daily sponge bath, courtesy of the washcloth and bar of soap I haven’t been given. Not that I can blame them. If I got anywhere near that ogre with a bar of soap, I’d shove it so far down his throat he’d be blowing bubbles out his ass every time he farted.

Of course, he’d likely die first.

“My noodle arms are allergic to planks,” she says over the water. “You should give yourself some credit.”

“Oh, come on, you used to pose in a bikini. Surely you had to exercise on occasion to keep your girlish figure.”

Everly’s modeling tales have been more interesting than I would have thought. As much as I like to bitch about the constant chitchat, I’ve been grateful she’s content to pass the time spilling all the details of her life. Thanks to police files, I already know more than the average pedestrian. But in here I’m just Nick Ford, some guy off the street, and not Detective Isaac Porter—formerdetective, that is. I’m constantly reminding myself not to mention anything she hasn’t told me herself.

“I did a lot of yoga. But as far as cardio is concerned, I’d rather stay home and count the hairs on my tarantula’s legs.”

“Is that code for something?”

“I’ll let you figure that out.” I can practically hear her eyes roll. “Though I do have a tarantula… Or at least, I did two years ago. He was a baby when I got him.”

“How long do pet tarantulas live?”

“It varies by the species, but some males can live up to ten years, or so. Females can live to thirty.”

Thirty-year-old spiders—damn. “In that case, logic says you likely still have a tarantula.”

“I appreciate that theory, thank you.” Her voice warms with gratitude. “Now, if you’ll excuse me for a few.” The water turns on full stream.

I wonder if she’s naked.

Would she have the guts to strip down with a camera pointed at her twenty-four-seven, or does a person eventually just lose their modesty and not care? On second thought, I can only imagine the problems it would create among these men with questionable morals if she were parading around, sans clothing.

Yeah. Definitely not naked.

Either way, I’m going to pretend she is, just to pass the time.

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