Page 74 of Ship Happens
But I can only focus on her. I rush forward and take her into my arms.
“Is everything okay?” she mumbles into my chest as I smash her against me.
“No, but it will be.” I place a kiss on top of her head. Before I can say anything else, someone knocks on the door.
I’ll have to tell her what I’ve learned after they leave. Right now, we have a kill to take and a man to save.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Frankie
Amber sits on the edge of the bed, a filled champagne flute in her right hand. As she prattles on about how wonderfulChadhas been, I pray she doesn’t study the bubbling liquid too closely. I stirred the glob of semen as best I could, but it’s definitely still visible. The goo dances in the liquid, getting bounced to hell and back by bubbles as she talks.
I raise my glass and pretend to sip, and Maverick does the same. I hope it encourages her to follow suit, but only Ice Pick takes the bait. He tips back his glass and downs it in one swallow.
He smacks his lips and looks at the glass. “Whew, that’s got a little tang to it, huh?”
My cheeks blaze red. “It’s vintage. Sometimes the, uh, the fruit...”
Fuck, I don’t know where I’m going with this. Is champagne even made with fruit?
“The grapes can end up a little tangy,” Maverick says, swooping in to save the day.
“Don’t worry, baby.” Amber tickles Ice Pick’s mustache, which is both weird and unsettling. “Mama will teach you all about the finer things when we get back on dry land.”
Mama?
Hearing her talk made me feel like I was going to puke, but when she finally sips the champagne, my stomach convulses. A large glob slides into her gaping maw, and she swallows.
Amber purses her lips and clears her throat. “Yes, that tang is indicative of the year, darling. I once shared a glass with my late husband to celebrate a particularly sought after stud I acquired.”
“Stud? Do you breed horses?” I ask. “I noticed your bracelet has a horse on it, so I just assumed.”
“Goodness, no. This was a gift from my boss.” She turns the bracelet, showing it to me, but I don’t need to see it. Mine was a gift from my boss as well. “I breed show dogs. Imported Anatolian shepherds, to be precise. We purchased Sans Marko Bootcut Presentation. I’m sure you’ve heard of him. He championed very young.”
“Oh, did you show him yourself?” Maverick asks.
She takes another sip. “Me? Show my own dogs? Never. I just breed the shit out of them and post the puppy videos all over social media. It’s a great side hustle, and I’ve nearly made enough to retire from my desk job.” She raises the glass and wiggles it. “Is there any more champagne?”
“I’ll fill that for you,” I say with a sweet smile. The urge to kill her is growing by the second. Maybe Ice Pick will let each of us get a stab in.
I’m getting turned on just thinking about it.
I pull the bottle of champagne from the fridge and dump another globby mixture into her glass. It’s the last of the semen, but that’s okay. It’s time to move to phase two of my plan.
Reaching into my pocket, I feel around for the glass vial. Cat was very kind to share some of her personal stash with me, andthanks to my years as a federal agent, I know just how effective a higher dose of scopolamine can be. In just a few minutes, this bitch will sing like a goddamn canary.
After breaking open the vial and dumping the liquid into the glass, I grab a stirring stick and give the liquid a good spin before handing the mixture to her. She looks a bit confused as she glares at the stirring stick, so I wave her off.
“No worries,” I say. “It’s a little trick I picked up in college. Makes the bubbles more...bubbly.”
She raises her eyebrows as she takes a sip, then nods. “Oh, wow! It really does!”
No the fuck it doesn’t. God, I hate her.
“How about that card game?” Ice Pick rubs his hands together. “I’m feeling lucky.”
“Not yet, but you will be,” Amber slurs. The champagne is already working its magic, meaning she’s a fucking lightweight from hell. When the drugs kick in, we are in for a show.
