Page 68 of Unbossly Manners

“What’s wrong with her?” she asked.

Derrick placed his fingers on my wrist and threw my star glasses aside, inspecting my eyes.

“She’s been drugged.”

twenty-six

“I’m calling Presbyterian. I know the nurses there,” Derrick said, his phone to his ear.

My eyes rolled in my head, and I lurched forward.

“I’ll take her.” Jackson’s voice fluttered over me. It was soothing. Like warm honey. But less sticky.

“Wanna go… home.” My mouth felt like it was full of cotton, dry and muddled. The heat of the sun was hot on my face, its reflection off the surfaces shimmered in my vision; the tiles under my feet, the people gathered around, the decor… it all shifted out of focus, like looking at it all through a thin piece of gauze.

“We need to find out what’s in your system.” Jackson’s hand rubbed my back and I leaned into it.

“Drugged?” I asked, my processing abilities working at less than ideal speed.

“Don’t worry,” Jackson spoke in my ear. “I’ll take care of you.”

Jackson scooped me up. Wheee! I’m flying.

“Stop wiggling, Peyton,” Jackson scolded, but worry tinged his frustration.

“I’ve dealt with stuff like this many times.” It was Derrick’s voice, forceful. “I’ll get her to a hospital.”

“I’ve got her.” Jackson’s voice was all business and I snuggled into him. My security blanket. “The Uber’s arriving. Stay here with the people from NOW and do damage control.”

My body bounced in Jackson’s arms as we went down the stairs to the lower level. Derrick and Jackson and Analise’s voices echoed off the walls. There was a chime and then I was wrapped in a cocoon of metal going downward.

“Her name’s Peyton Holland. We think she’s been drugged. My colleague Jackson Rhodes is bringing her to you now.” Derrick was speaking but I couldn’t make out who he was talking to.

Traffic swished around me, warm air rushing over my skin. I was lifted into a car, and the sounds were muted. I sank into soft leather; my body heavy, my limbs jelly.

“Call me when you find out what’s in her system,” Derrick said somewhere far away.

“I’m sleepy.” I lay my head against the door.

We jerked forward, and my head bounced against the plastic frame. The movement made me queasy. Strong arms pulled me into a solid chest. I shut my eyes, and the warped world around me disappeared.

There was a cloud below me. A soft, snuggly cloud. I curled into the comfort, unsure of where I was but not caring, half in a dream in this dark place.

“Rest.” A deep male voice spoke out in the darkness.

“God?” I said, bleary, disappointed. I thought God would be a woman.

Deep laughter filled the room. A soft light flickered on. The room spun in a teetering carousal. I closed my eyes.

Okay. I wasn’t dead. I didn’t really think that I was, but my mind wasn’t working properly. A glass clinked next to me. I peeled one eyelid open against the light. Jackson was retreating from the bed—not a cloud—I lay on.

“Don’t go.” I was slurring, my chest contracting in panic.

“I’m right here.” He scooted against the pillows on top of the duvet, fully dressed except for his shoes.

“Where am I?” I asked, my head buried in the pillow. It was too heavy to lift. Every part of me felt like it was filled with sand.

“My bedroom. Is that okay?”

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