Page 26 of Hell Hath No Fury

“But how did he get there?”

Antoinette’s response is impatient. “I put him there.”

“Is he alive?”

Antoinette rolls her eyes then shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

Darius looks at me, and I turn to Antoinette and ask, “Is he secure?”

“Well, yeah. I’m not fucking stupid,” she sneers, giving me a dirty look.

“That’s good,” I answer far more calmly than I’m feeling. “But what makes you question whether he’s alive or not?”

Again, she gives me a dirty look, but this time, she waves both hands in front of her body as she replies, “Because most of this is his.”

“What happened?” I ask hesitantly, unsure if I even want to know but having no choice but to find out.

“He pissed me off,” she mutters.

Sighing deeply, I take a good look at her. She appears to be mostly with it, but I see that mania right beneath the surface. I wrap an arm around her shoulder, turning back to look at Agatha as I direct her toward the door. “Aggie. Give us a bit and then bring us whatever you think will help.”

She nods, knowing exactly what I mean without me having to go into a type of explanation. So, I turn to Matt and instruct, “You go to the basement and ensure he’s secure. And if he’s alive, make sure he stays that way.”

Matt nods and immediately takes off in the direction of the basement as I turn to Antonio. “You make sure these two assholes,” I pause, pointing at Tony and Darius before continuing, “stay the fuck out of the basement.”

Tony glares at me, but Darius remains in place, completely impassive, which may or may not be a good sign. Nonetheless, Antonio gives me a curt nod in response, and then I turn and usher Antoinette out of the room and down the hallway.

She goes with me willingly, and soon, we’re entering the suite of rooms typically reserved for Darius and Antoinette. She stops up short in the doorway, and I give her a nudge and then a shove to force her completely into the room.

Shutting the door behind us, I lock it, knowing that anyone needing to enter would have a code. Taking her hand, I lead her into the ensuite bathroom. I release her, leaving her just in the doorway and moving to start the shower.

Turning back, I find her still standing there, staring off into space, so with a sigh, I quickly and methodically strip the ruined clothing from her body. Her help is minimal, and when she’s standing there completely nude and still unmoving, I give her a good slap on her bare ass. She yelps, her previously vacant gaze lighting on me as she snaps, “What the fuck?”

I point to the shower as I respond, “If you’re gonna stand there staring into space, you may as well do it under the spray of the water.”

She continues to stare at me for a moment and then slowly walks toward the shower, the click of the shower door setting me into action.

I gather up the soiled clothing, stuffing it into a trash bag, which I tie off as I exit the bathroom. Walking the bag across the bedroom to the door, I unlock it, open it, and toss the bag out into the hallway before shutting it and locking it.

A sense of deja vu runs over me as I walk back across the room, and I stop in the middle of the bedroom, wanting to get control of myself before returning to her. Shaking my head, a bitter laugh bubbles up inside me, seemingly overlapping timelines crashing over me.

I think it’s common for most people to push through bad times with the idea that at least they won’t happen again. But I’ve found throughout my life that this often isn’t true. Sometimes, it feels like all those dark things simply linger along the outer edges of all things.

After a moment, I continue forward, entering the bathroom to find Antoinette now standing under the spray of water doing nothing. I stand just outside the shower doors, watching her through the steamy glass. The spray of water is hitting her directly in the chest, her gaze raised just outside the direct spray, the warm mist slowly melting the dark, crusted-over blood on her face. I watch her for a few moments, contemplating how bestto handle her, uncertain which version of her mother she needs right now.

I smack my hand against the glass, and she doesn’t flinch but glances at me over her shoulder. “You gonna get your shit together, or do I need to come in there?”

She blinks at me at first, but then some humor lights her eyes. Her hand comes up, and she flips me the bird from under the opposite arm.

Relief rushes over, and I allow myself a small smile. Antoinette sighs deeply then turns and places her face directly under the spray. She scrubs her hands over her cheeks, the groan that falls from her lips one of disgusted agitation, not pained agony.

She steps back and rubs the water from her eyes then turns toward the shelf where all the shower products are waiting. She runs her fingertips along the fronts of the various bottles, and I smile as she settles on a taller bottle that’s obviously masculine in packaging. She flips the lid open, bringing the bottle to her nose, and inhales, her eyes closing as she takes in what is obviously a familiar scent. A small sob breaks free, and I press my hand against the glass, ready to step inside if she needs me. “Are you okay?”

She nods and then swallows before replying, “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

She squirts some of the liquid into her hands, quickly rubbing it into her scalp and then rinsing it under the steady stream of water. Turning back to the shelf, she grabs a loofah with one hand and what must be the matching bodywash to the shampoo she just used. She doesn’t take the time to revel in the scent; she just squirts a bunch into the loofah and then quickly lathers herself before tossing it aside and rinsing herself clean.

A knock at the door pulls me away, and I exit the bathroom, walking quickly across the room just as the door opens andAgatha appears. She hands me some crumpled-up fabric and when I give her a questioning look, she replies, “Darius’s shirt.”

---