Page 29 of The Primary Pest
“Look, Ajax,” Bartosz offered carefully, “we can call for EMS, but the only personweare bound to help is you. You’re the job. We must let others do theirs.”
“You wanna help me?” Ajax asked through gritted teeth. “Help me to help her, or I’ll scream my head off. It’s nonnegotiable.”
Dmytro sighed, gave Bartosz an I-told-you-so glare, and nodded.
As a former lifeguard, even if it was only at a campground lake, Ajax knew how to support an injured person’s neck. There was a wound on the back of the girl’s head, but it felt swollen, not depressed. Blood oozed, but head wounds bled freely, and he knew he couldn’t count on the amount of blood to tell how badoff she was. She breathed normally, but her color wasn’t good. Neither was the fact she was unconscious.
“Phone?”
“No calls.”
“I need the light,” Ajax argued. He snapped his fingers for Dmytro, who held out his phone with a put-upon sigh.
Ajax turned on the flashlight and lifted an eyelid. Pretty girl. She had natural lashes that looked thick enough to be fake, a luminously pale face, black hair, and lip, nose, and ear piercings. Tattoos covered her arms where he could see them, including some wonderful sugar skull motifs.
“Someone had a goth phase.” Her pupils reacted to the light at any rate. He glanced around. “She needs to go to the ER. Anytime a head injury causes loss of consciousness—”
“What do you think happened?” Dmytro asked Bartosz.
Bartosz answered with a shrug, “Slipped while she was dancing?”
“Or overdose?” Dmytro posited as he pushed her sleeves past her elbows. “I don’t see needle marks.”
“It’s not an OD. She wouldn’t be breathing. Did you check the till?” Ajax asked with some asperity.
Bartosz’s brows rose. “Till?”
“The cash drawer. Or the safe where they keep cash and credit card receipts. Did you check the back office? Were they robbed, do you think?”
Flushing, Dmytro walked behind the wall to see. “The cash drawer is empty. Receipts are scattered all over.”
“See? Robbed.” Ajax rolled his eyes.
“You can’t trust that. Easy enough to make this look like a robbery. If I wanted to flush someone out, I’d do just that.” Dmytro rattled the office doorknob. “I’ll see if there’s anything—no. The office is locked.”
“She was locked in,” said Bartosz. “Did she know her attacker?
“That justprovesthis has nothing to do with me.”
“It does nothing of the sort.” Bartosz gave the order, “See if she has keys, Mitya. We must still leave at once.”
Dmytro returned and patted the girl’s pockets down while Bartosz picked up her purse.
“Oh hell no.” Ajax recoiled in horror. “You’re not going to leave this girl—steal her car—”
“We have nochoice,” answered Dmytro. “We have no car. Three coincidences are two too many. Nothing feels right about any of this.”
“If this were about me, I’d already be dead.” Ajax stood and wiped his hands on his jeans. “We wait until we know the girl is all right, and then if you want—”
“Ajax.” Inconvenient that the way Dmytro growled his name was exactly right. He felt that deep voice slip straight down his spine and lodge in his balls.
“Don’t be a dumbass. You’ve got this working theory that someone knocked the girl over the head to get to me.” He spread his hands. “But I’m here, so where are they?”
Bartosz shrugged. Dmytro glanced away.
“Man up, guys. We’ve got to help her. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t and anything happened. Plus, don’t even think about getting a paycheck from my parents if you don’t, because my dad is probably gonna be a Nobel laureate someday, and—”
“All right.” Dmytro grudgingly gave in. “But we can’t have police. We’ll have to get her to her car and drop her off at the ER somehow without getting involved.”
