Page 69 of Never Say Die
Aiden kissed him. He clung to Shay again. Dug his fingernails into his shoulders, welcomed slow tenderness and growing urgency, and thought of drowning in the middle of a brief, bright orgasm.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Aiden woke to a nearby scream.
He opened his eyes. Shay looked back at him. They were twin moons, curled toward each other under the covers, ankles linked, hands buckled. The scream ended, but another two, then three, kicked into the air afterward. Panicked howls and high-pitched cries twisted through the blue hour like a corkscrew to his temple, worsening a ruthless fucking headache. He blinked at Shay. Pushed his face into the pillow and brought their knotted fingers to his mouth.
“I’m sick of that sound,” Shay said.
He’d imagined what it was like to rip a scream from someone else, but never had. Every death he’d been responsible for had happened too quickly. “Yeah, I know.”
“Do you think it’s her?”
“I hope it’s not.”
“She’s dead, Aiden. We watched her hit the fucking ground and?—”
A closed fist pounded on the bedroom door. Screaming gave way to chatter, rising through the hotel as hinges creaked and footsteps filled the hall. Aiden kissed Shay and slipped out ofbed. Didn’t bother buttoning his jeans, just pulled them over his hips and opened the door to Pru’s bulged, brown eyes.
“There’s a body in the pool,” she said, calmly. Then again, less calmly. “There’s a body in the pool—a dead body.”
“Shit, seriously. . . ?Jesus. . . Just. . . Just don’t let Georgia see it,” he said. “We’ll be out in a sec.”
Pru glanced at his bare chest, inhaling sharply. She lifted her hand, as if she intended to touch the purple lake on his ribs. “What happened?”
“I fell—I’m fine. Seriously, don’t let her go down there.”
She blinked. “Yeah, okay. I’ll order room service.”
“No, just get dressed and we’ll go out,” Aiden said. “Odio policías. Seria mejor, no?”
“Good call. Hurry.”
He nodded and shut the door, forcing the contents of his stomach to stay put. The moment she’d saidpool, he’d known. Felt a wave of limbic certainty like a hand around his ankle. He hadn’t drowned last night, but someone had, and Laura Noble had been the one to hold them under. Knowing came in waves, like rain before a storm, like static before lightning:
I’m being hunted.
“C’mon, get dressed,” Aiden said. He snapped the wrinkles out of a folded White Zombie t-shirt. Buttoned his black jeans, put on deodorant, and laced his boots. “Meet me downstairs, okay?”
Shay narrowed his eyes. “Wait, wait! Hey, don’t just?—”
Aiden darted out the door, leaving Shay half-dressed, Dylan shoutingdude, hold up,and Georgia saying his name, high-pitched and scared. He took the stairs to the second floor. Fingered sandy sleep from his clumped lashes and snuck around groups crowded on the terrace overlooking the courtyard. A woman with curlers in her hair leaned against the ice machine, whispering loudly about a vengeful ghost. Volunteersfor the Metaphysical Assembly stood in matching shirts, fiddling with their lanyards, craning like meerkats. Aiden shouldered his way through the crowd and braced on the iron banister, gazing at the rectangular wine-colored pool and the body floating face-down in its very center.
Beside him, a man sobbed, dressed in nothing but his sweats, mid-rise black socks, and a baseball cap. His friends comforted him like typical men, gripping shoulders, squeezing forearms, refusing to actually hold him. Their soggy, wrecked voices caused Aiden’s throat to tighten.
“He was supposed to get married tomorrow.”
“God, fuck, man. What the hell happened?”
“What’d they do to his back?”
“We need to call Andrea.”
“Did anyone see him leave the bar last night?”
Aiden scanned the scene, focused on red ripples and the man’s open back. How his spine bent away from the rest of him, causing his skeleton to droop. The shark-mouthed prints on his calves and around his nape, still spitting curls of blood.
He turned on his heels, snuck through the crowd again, and loped down the stairs, fishing his phone out of his pocket.
