“Because we’re given detailed information on everyone we deal with.”
“Deal with? Is that your nice way of saying ‘kidnap’?”
So much for my flirting idea.
Dominic cleared his throat. “We’re given detailed information, and neither of you had any drug allergies listed.”
“Was Colin’s gluten allergy listed?” I asked sarcastically.
Colin looked up. “It’s not an actual allergy, and I don’t have celiac disease, to my knowledge. I just can’t eat it. Not since…”
“Tom?” I asked.
He nodded, looking down at the naked pizza crust on his plate. He’d eaten the toppings, as I’d suggested.
He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t press it. I guessed he’d probably had only stale bread or something like that to eat, and now it didn’t agree with him. Or maybe it was psychological. That was more likely.
Whatever it was, even the toppings didn’t agree with him.
Colin retched, turning his head. At least he hit the floor instead of the table.
Chapter Nine
Bryce
Dying.
Clearly, I was dying.
Tears poured from my eyes, and vision eluded me.
My sweet little son.
My mother.
Marjorie. Precious Marjorie.
I’d never see any of their faces again.
“Got you,” a gruff voice said.
I was moving now, lying down and moving. Still coughing, choking, gasping.
Joe? Where was Joe?
Somehow I’d always known we’d die together. It was no less than we deserved for unwillingly letting a friend die and keeping a dirty secret for my father.
I deserved this…
I deserved death…
“Pepper spray,” the blur in white said to me.
“Pepper spray?” I rasped out. But all that actually came out was a choking gasp.
“Don’t try to talk, Mr. Simpson,” the same voice said. “It’ll take another hour or so for the effects to wear off, but nothing will be permanent. Your vision and voice wi
ll be normal again.”