High-Heeler Wonder (Killer Style 1)

Two went wild.

One pinged off the coins above Sylvie’s head and ricocheted back toward Rhodes.

Another shot exploded through the room.

An oomph sounded.

The redhead crumbled to the ground.

Carlos hustled over, kicked the pistol out of her reach, and kneeled down, feeling for a pulse.

“Is she dead?” Tony asked, lowering Sylvie gently to the floor.

“Yeah.” Carlos stood.

“The ricochet?”

“No.” He wiped his bloody hands on his pants. “I shot her.”

“I’m sorry you had to do that ’Los.”

“I’m not. Scarlett deserved more than to be Ivy in the real world.”

Without another word, the team member Tony had always considered just the geeky tech guy spun away and disappeared into the crowd of paramedics and cops now flooding into the room.

“Okay, what have we got here?” The paramedic snapped on gloves and crouched on his haunches.

“Not sure. She’s got needle puncture marks.” Tony’s gut lurched at the words.

The paramedic took Sylvie’s pulse and his face darkened. “Damn. We gotta get her out of here stat.”

Chapter Twenty

“The most beautiful clothes that can dress a woman are the arms of the man she loves.”

—Yves Saint-Laurent

Antiseptic burned Tony’s nostrils and the constant beeps, buzzes, and paging for Dr. So-and-So over the intercom had him out so far on edge he was ready to jump just to get it over with. He was in the hospital waiting room, with Cam, Ryder, and Carlos huddled nearby. But Tony was too jittery to sit caged up in a room filled with uncomfortable chairs and fake plants, so he’d been doing his damnedest to wear a groove in the linoleum deep enough to rival the Grand Canyon. He couldn’t do a thing to help Sylvie, but he wasn’t leaving until he knew she was going to pull through.

Anya and a tall black woman with enough liner around her eyes to make Cleopatra jealous stepped over and blocked his path.

Cleopatra glared at him. “So you must be the asshole who broke her hea

rt. I suppose you’re cute enough under all those bruises. Too bad you’re a lying dirt bag.”

He stopped so fast his shoes squeaked on the floor. “Excuse me?”

She huffed. “I don’t know you well enough to help you make up an excuse for your pitiful behavior. Which is too bad really, because I am damn good at creative reasoning.”

He had no idea how to respond to that, so when Anya started to walk past him, Tony grabbed her arm to stop her. “How is Sylvie? Is she going to be okay?”

“Thanks—and no thanks—to you, she’ll be just fine.” Anya shook off his hand. “The doctors gave her Narcan to counteract the heroine and they’re going to keep her overnight, but it could have been a whole lot worse. Come on, Drea.”

Relief swept through him and he sagged against the wall. The lightness didn’t last long before self-recrimination came back to life like a zombie on steroids. “If only I’d gotten there faster. I should have figured it out. Then none of this would have happened.”

“Oh, cut the shit.” Drea rolled her eyes. “You’re not God, so stop thinking like you can control any of that. Ivy went batshit crazycakes nuts. If you want to blame anyone, blame that bitch.”

“But—”