“Yeah, I was in critical condition for a long time.”
“Do you remember what happened?”
“Remember goin’ to sleep with you. Remember waking up in the hospital days later.”
“Rusty, please, you have to know I didn’t do it. Why would I do that?”
“You tell me? You needed money, all you had to do was ask, babe.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t take it. Your bag. It was gone when I came back with the coffee. I swear, Rusty.”
“So you just ran. Left me there.”
“I called 911. I was on the phone with them when the club rode up.”
“Why’d you run?”
“Because it was the dagger you’d given me that was sticking out of your chest. I panicked. Do you really think they wouldn’t have thought I did it?” She nodded toward Reno. “I was standing there with your blood on my hands.”
“My blood.”
“Yes. I felt for a pulse. I shook you, calling your name. Your blood was on me. I knew what they’d think, what it would look like to them. I panicked. I was afraid they’d kill me.” She paused to study his eyes, searching for any shred of understanding. “Rusty, I’d die before I’d hurt you.”
Rusty’s eyes flicked to Reno, and then back to her. “Well that was being arranged.”
The door opened, and a head poked in.
“Rusty, there’s a call for you.”
“Not now,” he snapped, not bothering to turn away from Skylar, his eyes still boring into her.
“You’re gonna want to take it.”
Rusty blew out a breath and stormed out the door, slamming it behind him.
Skylar frowned, looking at the floor as she tried to process the fact that Rusty was still alive. All this time she’d thought…
And then her eyes lifted to Reno. “You let me think he was dead. You knew all this time he was alive, and you didn’t tell me. Why?”
“It was entertaining to see how far you’d go with this bullshit story of yours. It’ll be more entertaining to see how Rusty deals with a double crossing bitch like you. Have to admit, you had me goin’ there for a half a second.” He let out a huff of cruel laughter. “Look on your face when he walked in. Priceless, babe.”
A few minutes later, Rusty returned. He stood over her and jammed his hands in his hip pockets, almost as if he didn’t trust himself not to touch her. And then he shocked her by saying, “Well, babe, seems you’ve got friends in the Evil Dead.”
Skylar swallowed. Oh, God. Shades. What had he done?
“That where you ran? To the Dead?”
“No…not exactly.”
“You want to explain that? Explain why they give a shit about you?”
“I…I used to know one of them. Well, more than one of them. My best friend’s brother was a member.”
“Really? That so? Seems you neglected to ever mention that to me.”
“Rusty, it was years ago.”
“And now? Did you hook up with one of ‘em?”