Page 92 of Deadly Designs

“Wait right there.”

The nurse had snapped her from her musings. Aja Bluewatched as she disappeared through a doorway and returned with aset of blue scrubs. “Here, hon, this will be more comfortable.”

Tears stung her eyes at the kind gesture. “Thankyou.”

“The restroom is over there.” She pointed in thedirection. Aja Blue thanked her again and went to change herclothes.

“Gah!” She caught her reflection in the mirror.Mascara was smudged beneath her eyes, and her face was pale exceptfor streaks of blood. Her upswept do was no longer upswept. Inother words, she looked like she’d been through an ordeal,precisely as the nurse had said.

Aja Blue ripped paper towels from the holder on thewall and wetted them. Her hand stalled as she removed theblood—Christian’s blood.

Her knees buckled, and she had to grab the sink forsupport. Mrs. Sinclair had struck him so hard. Remembering thesound of the statue connecting with his skull made her want tothrow up.

He had to be okay. She couldn’t even think about lifewithout him. He’d become her lodestone. He was, without a doubt,her soulmate.

Aja Blue had never been a doomsayer and refused tostart now. She inhaled a deep breath and held it before slowlyreleasing it. Then she finished cleaning up and changed into thescrubs. She hated trashing the expensive dress but never wanted areminder of what had happened to Christian. After ripping it off,she stuffed it into the garbage can and wondered what had become ofher purse. She’d had it when the woman had lured her by asking fora picture. Hopefully, it would show up, and she wouldn’t have toget a new driver’s license and cancel her credit cards.

Her head snapped up—the woman. Aja Blue thought she’dlooked familiar. Now that the drug was leaving her system, it allcame rushing back. She was the fake nurse who had killed Aja Blue’skidnapper. She hoped the woman had been caught in the sweep whenthe police raided the yacht. Aja Blue would have to let Nicole knowabout her.

When she returned to the waiting room, the nurse cameover. “Ms. Lalonde, right?” At her nod, she said, “I received acall from the police requesting that I take you for a bloodtest.”

“Oh, yeah, I was drugged.”

The nurse’s eyes widened, but she didn’t askquestions. Aja Blue followed her through a set of double doors anddown a hallway. They stopped at a room, and the nurse flipped onthe light. “Have a seat, and someone will be here shortly.”

“Thank you, and for the scrubs too.”

“No problem.”

A man with dark hair and eyes came in a minute later,pushing a cart laden with supplies. “Hey there. You can call meDracula since I’m here to suck your blood . . . or remove it with aneedle if you want to get technical. No fangs are involved in theprocess, I promise.” He held up three fingers in a Boy Scoutsalute.

He tried to be friendly and funny, but she wascompletely wiped and had nothing to offer—not even a smile.

“Wow, tough audience,” he joked.

“Sorry. It’s been a hell of a night.”

“Ah, I got it. I promise I’ll make this quick andpainless. Please provide your name and date of birth.”

She recited them.

His pen stalled, and his head jerked up. “TheAja Blue LaLonde?”

She thought about denying it, but seriously, what wasthe point? She nodded.

“Wow. I’m a big fan, Ms. LaLonde. I know the show wasages ago . . . er, not to imply that you’re old. You’re not. Sorry,I’m a blabbering fool.”

“It’s okay.” She tried for a reassuring tone butfailed miserably.

Dracula finally read the room and got down tobusiness. He tied a rubber strap around her arm and then inserted aneedle into a vein, drawing two tubes full of blood. When finished,he applied a cotton ball and wrapped it with soft tape around herarm.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. LaLonde. I don’t suppose Icould impose?” He held out a pad of paper and a pen.

It was the least she could do. It wasn’t as if he wasasking for a selfie. “Do you want me to personalize it?”

His smile brightened. “Sure. Can you make it out toCraig?”

“Absolutely.” She scribbled a message and signed hername before handing it back.

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