Page 69 of Homebound
“I’ll throw his name out there for an added weight.”
“By all means whore yourself out to OO if your heart so desires, but you have no proof about anything. You. Can’t. Prove. Fuck.”
She couldn't, of course. But it was imperative he wondered.
“Call my bluff if you dare, Arlo,” she said calmly. “Go ahead, wait and see how it works out.”
Stalemate.
Yet something in her face must’ve triggered doubts in Arlo’s mind. Maybe it was the feverish flush that lent her dry skin a truly ghastly aspect in the dim light of the landing or her sunken eyes that blazed with maniacal zeal, but she could pinpoint the exact moment when he backed down.
“Hypothetically speaking, if I were inclined to help you out of the goodness of my heart, seeing as you’re my teammate and we should look out for each other… I may not be able to get you what you want. It’s not that easy, Gemma.”
She’d come that far and she was not giving an inch of the hard-won ground.
“Of course. I can be reasonable. I’m giving you a week, till next Saturday.”
“A week? Hey, that’s not enough time! And I’m making no promises.”
“I believe in you, Arlo.” She turned and started climbing stairs with a sheer effort of her will. “Saturday.”
He yelled something at her back but she didn’t hear it for the buzzing in her ears. Her head was spinning sickeningly and she groped the walls for support, glad to be out of his sight.
Now that her mission of catching Arlo had been accomplished, the inner compulsion that had propelled her forward ceased its operation, and her body was throwing up a white flag.
Heeding her weakness and seeing no reason to abuse her body further, Gemma checked out her stun gun and crawled home.
She slept in fits and starts for two days straight, venturing out to the kitchen only to eat cold leftovers or have a drink of water.
The McKinleys, Aunt Herise in particular, didn’t try to hide their displeasure at having Gemma sick in their house. What good was she to them, a dead weight helping with none of the household chores? Furthermore, her sickness was probably contagious and none of them wanted to contract the virus, least of all Uncle Drexel in his weakened condition.
Perversely, Gemma wished Arlo caught the crud from her. It seemed like a petty but fitting payback for having to chase him around the prison.
The next time she woke up, her fever had broken. She felt weak as a newborn kitten but her head was clear and she was finally hungry. Gemma took stock of her condition and decided it was time to go back to work. Not missing out on more pay far outweighed her desire to stay in bed and recuperate.
She overestimated her ability to walk fast and cleared the prison entrance at the exact moment the siren sounded, out of breath, shedding her coat as the went. Throwing her outer garments into her cubby, she rushed to the check-in counter where the line had already dissipated. She was the last one.
“McKinley?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The guard frowned. She seemed to do it a lot in Gemma’s presence.
“They yanked you again. Go figure. Third floor.”
Gemma nearly expired on the spot.
The lady took a stun gun from the rack and handed it to her. Gemma accepted it automatically afraid her heart would jump right out of her chest. The familiar sights and sounds of the prison took a back seat to the rushing of blood in her ears and the erratic thumping in her chest.
She mounted the first flight of stairs and had to stop, afraid she might faint, her legs weak and trembling. An irrational fear gripped her that she was too weak to make it to the third floor.
Pacing her ascent, she moved up slowly when in reality she wanted to take the stairs two at a time. Reaching the door, she slapped her palm on the scanner and watched it blink, and heard the latch release. Shoulders straight, she walked in.
Immediately, she spotted Ruby who turned to see who came in. Arlo was nowhere in the vicinity.
“Gemma!” Ruby breathed.
Gemma wanted to say something warm in return but her throat closed up on her. She nodded in response and silently started moving along the corridor.
