Page 85 of Bad Medicine
“You said we were going to a shed,” I stated flatly. “This is not a shed.”
“It’s our shed.”
After making our way through a chain-link gate, Rocco drove us right up to the building, pulling out his phone and sending a brief text.
A few moments later, the large barn style door on the front of the building began to roll open, Rocco pulling the van inside as soon as the space was wide enough, and I gaped as he put the van in park.
Inside this innocuous metal building was an actual freaking airplane. Jasper was going to lose his mind when he saw it.
Once the door had closed behind us, Rocco got out, and I watched in the mirror as he went and spoke to Sway, who was standing over by a panel that looked like it controlled the door we had just entered through.
Opening my own door, I climbed out of the van and looked around.
The building that Rocco had called a shed was clearly more of a hangar, the large interior housing not only the small airplane, but a sitting area and a small kitchenette. On the far wall was a workbench and a wall of tools which I assumed were for airplane maintenance.
That was it. Just a big empty space that smelled like engine grease and something that hinted of old take out.
Not entirely sure what was expected of me, I simply stayed near the van, not wanting to get too far from Jasper. A door near the workbench opened, and Lucky entered the hanger, her heavy boots echoing in the empty space as she marched toward Rocco and Sway. When they bent their heads together in quiet conversation, I decided I’d had enough.
“Excuse me,” I snapped, drawing all their attention. “Is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on?”
“We’re gonna stay here for a few days,” Rocco said plainly, as if that explained everything.
“Stay here?” Looking around again, I stared in disbelief at the two small couches nestled together in one corner, and laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think so.” Walking over to Rocco, I held out my hand. “Give me the keys. I’d like to leave.”
“You’re not leaving,” he seethed, his voice low and dangerous.
“You can’t keep us here,” I protested, throwing my arm and gesturing at the empty building. “Where the hell will we sleep? In Enzo’s plane?”
“Oh, shit,” Sway breathed, bringing his fist up to cover his mouth. It was then that I noticed he was sporting a pretty significant black eye. I gave him a surprised look, and he ducked his head, clearly not wanting to talk about it.
Fine. I’d let it sit. For now.
“It’s my plane,” Rocco growled at me, clearly annoyed, and I raised my eyebrows. “And we’re not sleepinghere.” Pointing over my shoulder, Rocco indicated a metal panel I hadn’t noticed before, built right into the floor of the hangar. “We’re sleeping there.”
I frowned, watching as Lucky turned the handle on the panel, opening one section of it up like a trapdoor.
“A basement?” I asked, as Lucky disappeared down what appeared to be a flight of stairs. “What kind of shed has a basement?”
“The kind where people go in, but they never come back out again,” Sway said, waving his fingers dramatically until Rocco cuffed him in the back of the head.
“Shut up, kid.”
“What?” Sway said, with feigned innocence, still attempting to keep his head cocked so the black eye was less visible. “I’m just saying, it’s nice that this time, I’m not being forced into the basement at gunpoint.”
With that comforting statement, he shrugged carelessly, then headed down the stairs, whistling like he didn’t have a worry in the world.
“Gunpoint?” I asked warily, but Rocco only shook his head.
“Don’t ask.”
Making his way to the back of the van, Rocco opened the hatch and retrieved our bags. Placing them in a pile beside the hole in the floor, he then returned to the van and began unbuckling Jasper. When he lifted my still-sleeping son out of his car seat—stuffed tiger still firmly gripped in his hand—I tried to intervene.
“I can carry him,” I insisted, although, truth be told, he was getting a little heavy lately.
Rocco shot me a flat look that told me exactly what he thought of my upper body strength, but rather than fight him and end up looking like a fool, I simply frowned, then stepped aside, following him as he descended the stairs, grabbing our bags on the way.
By the time we reached the fourth flight of stairs, I was very glad I hadn’t insisted on carrying Jasper; we would have likely tumbled to our deaths by now, considering how deep the chamber appeared to go when I looked over the railing.
