Page 10 of Spade

Cynthia

“Will you just be quiet and let me explain?” she asked. Her brain felt sluggish, and it seemed to take all her concentration to keep up with their conversation. She just hoped that she didn’t sound as drunk as she felt, but she was sure that she did. Her world was spinning, and she worried that there was more than just vodka in the drinks she downed. Her head was starting to hurt and all she wanted to do was go home and sleep whatever this was off.

She raised her hand to her forehead, knowing that it was shaking before Spade even pointed it out. “You okay, honey?” he asked. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m getting a headache,” she whimpered. “It really hurts. I think that this is from more than me drinking too much. What if my drink was tampered with?”

“You only had two drinks, right?” Spade asked.

“I did. They were strong, but not this strong. I can usually handle my drinks, too. So, what’s going on with me?” she asked.

“We’re going to find that out,” he said. Spade made a U-turn at the next light, and she worried that he had changed his mind about helping her.

“Are you taking me back to the bar?” she stuttered.

“Of course not,” Spade insisted, “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“Is that necessary?” she questioned. “I just want to go home and sleep this off.”

“It’s necessary,” Spade growled. “If someone roofied your drink, we need to find out. You wouldn’t want this happening to any other women down at the Road Reapers, would you?”

“No,” she stuttered.

“Good, I’m going to call Ink to find out if anyone besides him and the bartender touched your drinks.” That was actually a good idea, and he was right, she didn’t want anyone else to go through what she was going through tonight.

Her stomach did a flip-flop from the alcohol, and she knew that she wasn’t going to be able to keep it from coming back up. “I need you to pull over,” she said. “I’m going to throw up.” Spade quickly pulled over to the side of the road and turned on his hazards. Cynthia wasted no time opening her door to jump out of the truck with no time to waste. She threw up what felt like the entire contents of her stomach as Slade stood next to her, holding back her hair. No man had ever held her hair back for her—not even Eric.

She waved him off, “I don’t want you to see me this way,” she insisted.

“It’s nothing that I haven’t been through before,” he said. She stood and took the tissues that Spade handed to her. “It’s all I have. Sorry.” Cynthia used them to wipe her face and blow her nose. She was hoping that getting sick would be enough to help her feel better, but it wasn’t. She still felt like hell.

“I think that a trip to the emergency room might be a good idea,” she said. Spade helped her back up into his truck and she thanked him.

“There’s water here,” he said, pointing to the door. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks,” she whispered, grabbing the water after he shut the door.

He slid onto the driver’s side and shut his door, starting back onto the road to the hospital. She laid back, hoping that she’d be able to make it to the ER before she got sick again. Spade called Ink and put the call on speaker so that she could listen this time.

“You good?” Ink asked, skipping the formalities.

“No,” Spade growled. “I think that Cynthia has been roofied. Tell me who touched her drinks besides you and the bartender.”

“Um, I have no idea,” Ink admitted. “That drink was the bartender’s specialty drink for the night and all the Ol’ladies were drinking them down at record speed. She made up a bunch of drinks and sat them on the bar for the women to just grab, and that’s how I got Cynthia’s drinks.”

“Shit, so everyone had access to them then,” Spade grumbled. That wasn’t going to help him narrow down the asshole who spiked Cynthia’s drinks. The bar was packed tonight. “How does Charlie feel?” he asked.

“When we left the bar, she felt like shit, but she started sobering up by the time we got home. She went to bed and seemed to be fine. I’m sure that she’ll have one hell of a hangover tomorrow, but that’s on her.”

“So, you don’t think that she was roofied then?” Spade asked.

“No, not really. What are Cynthia’s symptoms?” Ink asked.

“She just puked, and says that her head is killing her,” Spade said. “She’s also shaking pretty badly and looks about ready to pass out.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound right at all. You taking her to the hospital?” Ink asked.

“We’re almost there,” Spade said.

---