Page 14 of What Doesn't Kill Us

They both freeze, their bodies shifting apart slightly, and Darius curses under his breath. I look at him and then back at the woman still standing in his embrace. It’s almost like looking in a mirror, but the more I stare at her, the easier it is for me to make out our subtle differences. But at a glance, she looks like me, and it’s disconcerting.

Dare’s voice breaks through my reverie. “What the fuck, Agatha?”

She gives me a closed-lip smile, and it’s all I can do to stop myself from bashing her face in with the butt of my gun. “Well, I told you if she was in the building, I’d get her to show herself without too much effort. And that’s exactly what I did.”

Darius carefully extricates himself from her grasp, wiping at his mouth with a grimace. “I think it would’ve been fine if you’d yelled out that you knew she was there and she should come out.”

She laughs, her eyes meeting mine as she says, “Yes, but this was much more fun.”

I reach out and grab her by her hair, yanking her closer to me as I grit out, “Not as fun as me shooting you in the face.”

I hear the telltale clicking of guns being cocked around me, and she laughs. “Not this time. You’re surrounded, so you may as well give up.”

I bare my teeth at her and snarl, “In the words of Wyatt Earp, they may get me in a rush, but not before I turn your head into a canoe.”

She glances at my face and then at the gun I have pointed at her head. “What’s with the hand cannon, sis? There are much less conspicuous weapons that do the job just as well.”

“What can I say? I like big guns. Right, Dare?”

I look at Dare to find him staring at my gun. His eyes meet mine, concern on his features as he says, “Put the gun down, Antoinette. No one’s gonna shoot anyone tonight.”

Agatha and I both give him a dirty look and say in unison, “We’re not?”

He makes an exasperated sound, his hands coming up to his hips as he tilts his head back and stares up at the ceiling, muttering to himself. I meet Agatha’s gaze as I ask, “Is he okay?”

She shrugs. “Hard to say, really. He seems to talk to himself a lot—“

Darius interrupts us, walking over and yanking the gun from my hand. I yelp and glare at him as he says, “What the fuck, Antoinette? Why are you carrying a gun at all, never mind this giant fucking cannon?”

I try to snag the gun back, but he holds it out of my reach. Finally, I give him a jab in the solar plexus, earning a grunt in response. “Give it back to me. I promise I won’t shoot her. Yet.”

Darius eyes me suspiciously, then looks over at Agatha, who gives him a nod. I’m annoyed he’s seeking direction from that bitch, but then I remember the sounds of the guns all around me, and it makes more sense. He’s making sure I won’t get shot for carrying it.

He holds my gun out to me, but when I grab for it, he pulls it out of my reach, grabbing my wrist and tugging me closer. “Where’s your holster?”

I glare at him and pull one side of my jacket open, showing him the holster. He steps in close to me until I feel the heat of his body, and his eyes burn into mine as he slowly, firmly slides the gun into the leather, a small shiver running down my spine. Suddenly, my mouth is dry, my breath catching in my lungs, and I find I can’t look away as he leans into me. I lick my lips, my hands gripping onto his suit coat, and I sway into him, waiting for him to move closer to me before saying, “You guys are fucking disgusting. Next time, get a goddamn room instead of making me want to puke.”

He gives me a dirty look, then glares at Agatha. “There’s nothing going on between us to need a room. She’s a fucking pain in the ass, kind of like you sometimes.”

I’m jealous; I admit it. All of my burning questions are being overridden by my juvenile urge to beat the whore down for touching my man, and I’m exceedingly annoyed with myself for getting so off-track that I can’t even focus on the actual issues at hand. Her earlier comments, paired with his current response, feel legitimate, but that doesn’t remove the initial sting of the scene that played out before me; it doesn’t take away the bitter taste of betrayal still coating my tongue.

I step back from Darius, and my urge to shoot Agatha in the face amps up again at the self-satisfied look on her face. That meddlesome fucking bitch. “What are you even doing here?” I ask.

Dare goes to reply, but Agatha interrupts, “We needed to speak to you, and this seemed to be the best way.”

“You’re saying that you tricked Carolina into sending all of us out in the wind without a clue because that was the easiest way for you to speak to me? How did you even know that I would be in the right place at the right time? It could be Lilith standing here right now, in which case, I don’t think it would’ve worked out well for either of you.”

Dare smiles. “Have you forgotten already how easy it is for me to keep tabs on you?”

I take a moment, but it finally dawns on me how he always finds me.

The tracker.

I growl, suddenly struggling to control my urge to shoot him in an area that will hurt him but not kill him. He’s giving me a smug look, so I sneer, “Well, I guess I know what I’ll be digging out of me later.”

The smirk falls from his face, and he frowns. “Please don’t do that. I promise I’ll try to only use it when there’s truly an emergency, but don’t remove it.”

I stare into his unblinking eyes for a moment, that stubborn side of me kicking and screaming for me to get a knife and cut it out of me on the spot. He knows I’m on edge, likely seeing the obstinance in my demeanor, my urge to prove I don’t need anyone keeping tabs on me, overriding the good sense that even Lilith would agree with.

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