“Wait.” I chuckle at this. “They’re the same person, Sash. If one of them grew up in the Caribbean, they both grew up in the Caribbean.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works.”
“What do you mean? How does it work?”
“You’re the expert.”
“Not in this, I’m not. I’ve never dealt with a dual personality.”
“Well, you’ve seen movies, right? That superhero one, for instance.”
“Split?” I almost guffaw. “He was not a superhero. He was a supervillain. A crazy, psycho supervillain.”
“Here, there, whatever. You saw it. So you saw how he was. Each personality has its own characteristics. Donovan and Carter are the same way.”
“How do you know?”
She points at Donovan. “Duh.”
I let out a long breath and it turns into a laugh. “Sasha. Our lives, man. They’re crazy.”
“Tell me about it.” She walks over to the table where we were sitting and picks up her knocked-over chair, then takes a seat. “I’m so tired.”
“Go to bed. I can watch him. There’s no way in hell I’ll be able to sleep in this house after witnessing that.” I look down at Donovan and a chill runs up my spine.
“No. I won’t be able to sleep, either. Anyway, Indie and the others should be home soon.”
“Do you need to talk to Indie, or something?”
“No. But…” She hesitates.
“You want to talk to Nick, don’t you?”
She shrugs. “Maybe.”
“All right, then. We’ll keep watch together.” I walk back over to the table and take my seat as well. But I angle my chair so that Donovan Couture is dead center of my field of vision.
No way. No way I’m taking my eye off him again.
That whole scene creeped me out.
Sasha and I sit there for a little while, just staring at him in silence. But then she picks up a magazine in the center of the table and starts flipping through it. I grab a crossword book and start filling in squares with a purple felt-tip pen, feeling drowsy, but safe. Because Sasha’s here.
It’s nearly four AM when I jolt awake at the sound of tires crunching on the gravel driveway. Then headlights shine through the front breezeway windows. “You go,” I tell Sasha, my voice rough and grumbly from the sleep. “Have your chat. I’ll watch Donovan.”
“You sure?” she asks.
I nod. “I got this. Anyway, I’ll be waking Cerene up in about thirty minutes. She’s got enough shut-eye. If we’re gonna unfuck this guy in a few hours, I need more than a catnap before we get started.”
Sasha gets up and smiles. “All right. I’ll go have that talk now, then hit the sack. See you in a few.”
I watch her leave, suddenly feeling tired.
I want to wake Cerene right now, but I go back to my crossword, never really taking my eye off Donovan.
And it ends up that I don’t even have to wake Cerene. She just appears about ten minutes later looking refreshed and clean in her slutty nurse’s costume.
“Anything to report?” she asks me, just as I’m getting to my feet.
But I shake my head. If it was her, I’m not ready to comment. And if it wasn’t… I’m really not ready to comment.
I go straight to my room and even though I can hear the whisper of voices coming through the vent near the ceiling, I’m way too tired to listen.
I dream about that movie Split.
And I have a very bad feeling that I am in way over my head.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - ADAM
I wake up feeling like I’ve slept for decades, but when I look at the clock, it’s not even two AM. I think I literally slept for ten minutes and now I am wide awake.
I throw then sheet off me, swing my legs out of bed, then look over my shoulder, hoping McKay is awake. But his eyes remain closed.
Is he faking me out? He does that regularly. I whisper, “McKay?” But he doesn’t stir.
I guess he’s asleep.
The girl doesn’t wake, either. She’s flat on her belly, still naked—very fucking beautiful—with her face towards me. Her mouth is open just enough for me to catch a glimpse of her pink tongue.
She’s my kind of girl. I don’t know her—like at all—but I can already tell she’s my kind of girl. The way Misha was, but hopefully she’s not spying on me the way Misha was. Because I just can’t overlook that kind of shit. I would hate for James Fenici to show up one day and say, “She’s got to go.”
Not that I’m planning a life with this woman or anything.
That makes me chuckle. And realize I’m thirsty. So I stand up, pull my slacks up my legs, and go shirtless out into the living room. We left the lights on, so I turn them off and then I just stare out at the Mississippi, appreciating the way the city lights play off the dark water.