Page 35 of Help Me Remember

As I emerged from the kitchen, Eric reappeared, dressed in jeans and boots, while thrusting a jacket at me. “Here.”

“What am I doing with this?” I asked.

“I want you to wear this to conceal the gun because I’m not carrying that thing. I haven’t fired a gun in years. You sent me the damn thing as a gift, and I never fired it once,” he grumbled, thrusting a holster at me as well. “If you can fight like you do, you probably know how to handle a gun. At least, that’s my hope. My real hope is you don’t need to use it before we get to the station.”

I paused, trying to figure out how the holster fit around me. “Station?”

He arched his brow. “The police station, Dylan. This isn't a movie. We’re going to the cops.”

“I…why?”

“Because I’m not going on the run or whatever the hell is going on in your head.”

“So why not simply call the cops?” I asked dryly.

Eric adjusted the strap of a bag he’d thrown over his chest. “Probably because I don’t want cops here. It would just stir up trouble. And I’d sooner be there at the station, where they can protect us easier and quicker rather than waiting for them to show up and make up their minds. At least if we’re there, we can hang around until they get their shit together.

“I don’t—” I began and then stopped, shaking my head. “Fine. We’ll do that.”

“Yeah, we will. Now get that frown off your face. I want to get there as fast, as quietly, and as upbeat as possible.”

“You find out that a bunch of men are willing to kidnap and murder you, and you’re worried about whether or not we’re in a good mood about running to the cops?”

“Running to the cops,” he repeated mockingly. “If they’re not there to help us, what good are they?”

“You tell me,” I said, adjusting the holster enough to tuck the gun away. “You were the one with plenty of opinions about the cops just yesterday.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Eric told me with a scowl. “We’ll have to take the side exit from the building because I’m sure they’re watching the front.”

“They’re probably watching the side too,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “Even if they don’t know that we know they’re there, they’re still going to be keeping an eye out. Well, unless our new ‘friend’ brought a bunch of brain-dead grunts with him, that is.”

“Considering your luck in the past week, I’m really not going to bet on that,” Eric said, grabbing his phone off the table. “C’mon. Hopefully, we can get a couple of blocks over to call an Uber.”

“To get to the police station?” I asked as I followed him toward the door.

“Well, I’m not going to take us to the closest one. Everyone around here knows half of them are in the Los Muertos’ pocket, and these guys seem to be on good terms with them,” Eric told me, rolling his eyes when I pushed passed him to get through the door first.

I scanned the hall for any signs of danger, finding only closed doors leading toward the elevator and the stairs at the end. “Elevator is probably a bad idea since it opens right into the front lobby.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for pointing that out,” Eric said from behind, forcing me to give him a dirty look at his obvious sarcasm.

“Christ, why do I always get the mouthy ones?” I muttered to myself as I pushed open the door and stared into the stairwell. The problem was the only thing I could see through the gap in the center was more stairs and nothing else. So unless I was going to be scared of railings, we both needed to move forward.

“What?” Eric asked, his voice echoing off the bare walls sharply.

“Shh,” I chided him as we made our way down. Unless we took it slow, our footsteps were bound to announce our presence to anyone lurking around, but that didn’t mean we needed to announce ourselves.

“What did you mean?” he asked as we descended, this time speaking quietly enough it could barely be heard over our footsteps. “About always getting paired with the mouthy ones?”

“You saying you aren’t mouthy?” I asked with a snort.

“No, but how would you know other people have been mouthy with you?”

“I…”

I had no idea. I’d spoken the words without a thought. Thinking it over as we descended, I could swear I imagined the vaguest outline of someone but couldn’t make out their features. There was only a bright flash I recognized as a smile and the sound of soft laughter that irritated me as much as I enjoyed it. Then it was gone before I could tug on the thread of what I knew had to be a memory, disappearing back into the thick fog surrounding it.

“I’m not sure,” I said, feeling my headache threaten to come back with the slightest pulse of pain at the center of my skull.

---