Page 91 of A Step You Shouldn't Take

“Yeah, I do.”

And in three or four hours, I was gonna get it.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Kim’s… She’s different.”

“Because she can see ghosts? I’m not sure that impacts on her anatomy, and it sure as hell doesn’t put me off her personality. She’s smart, she’s driven, and she’s got a kind heart.”

“Just be careful, buddy. I’m only saying that because I care.”

“You lost the right to give that speech two years and five months ago.”

Wyatt lapsed into silence, and I wondered if I’d been too harsh. But no, that needed to be said. The line of embassy vehicles pulling into the parking lot of a steakhouse up ahead saved us from an awkward silence, and Wyatt began grumbling instead.

“We’ll have to get a table for fucking two again.”

“Oh, honey. I’ve missed our little tête-à-têtes.”

The last time we’d been undercover, the waitress told us what a cute couple we made and brought us a complimentary dessert with two spoons. Emma had laughed like a fucking hyena when I told her afterwards, but Wyatt didn’t see the funny side.

“Shut up.”

The restaurant was packed, and we ended up at a table near the back, but the embassy group was between us and the bathroom so I developed a weak bladder. And next to the bathroom was the thermostat, so I took inspiration from Kim and turned it up a couple of notches as I walked past. She sure liked to keep her house tropical, but I wasn’t complaining because she also liked to wear slinky tops that showed off her curves, and if she put a sweater on, that would spoil the view.

And soon the restaurant patrons were stripping off too, including three of our suspects. No tattoos.

“Come on, man, take your shirt off,” Wyatt muttered right as the waitress walked up behind him. Her eyes widened.

I dialled my laugh down to a grin. “Don’t worry, I won’t do it.” I lowered my voice to a whisper but kept it loud enough for Wyatt to hear. “It’s our anniversary today, and he’s just feeling a bit excited.”

“Oh, congratulations! And how amazing that you chose to celebrate here with us.” She patted Wyatt on the shoulder, oblivious to his murderous glare. “Let me bring you out a little surprise.”

Today, we got an ice cream sundae with two spoons, chocolate sauce, and a sparkler stuck in the middle, as well as a round of applause from tables either side of us.

“I’ll get you back for this,” Wyatt promised.

“Sure, honey. I’ll bend over when we get home.”

Except when we got back to Kim’s, Wyatt’s revenge was the last thing on my mind.

CHAPTER 27 - KIMBERLY

WHY WAS I so cold? Had Reed turned the heating down? I twisted under the covers, curling my knees up to my chest and tucking the quilt around me. In all honesty, I didn’t even remember going to bed, just drinking far, far too much wine with a rather blurry Maria, taking a cab home with her and Annie, and opening a very expensive box of chocolates my father had sent while Annie scrolled through Netflix.

Then I recalled Reed’s words before he left this morning.I want you sentient tonight.Sentient? I could barely remember my own name. We’d been doing okay until the wine merchant opened the good stuff, and then even Annie had stopped complaining and started drinking.

Yes, I’d messed up big time today. No movie, no pizza, and no sexy times with Reed. What must he think of me? At least I’d given him a key, or he’d be sleeping in his car again tonight. How could I apologise for this? A simple “sorry, I totally forgot what a lightweight I am” really wouldn’t cut it. Perhaps I could take him out for dinner? Would that be weird, me asking him on a proper date? Or would he turn me down now he realised what an idiot I was? A low groan escaped my lips.

Then I froze as a voice spoke.

“Are you awake?”

A female voice, but not Annie. No, this voice was higher. Musical, almost. I forced my eyelids to open, and they felt heavy. Sore. Foreign.

And then I realised I wasn’t in my bed, and I definitely wasn’t in my house. I was in a…a dormitory? A prison? Two dimly lit rows of narrow beds, one row on each side of a long room, and each bed was surrounded by thick metal bars that ran from the floor to the low ceiling. Jail cells with padlocks on the doors. My bed was at the end of a row, and all the others on my side of the room were empty, as was the one opposite. A motionless form lay on the bed beside that, and in the next, I made out a face peering towards me. The owner of the voice?

“Where am I? Who are you?”

“You’re in Casa Lunatica. At least, that’s what we call it.”

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