“Then everything is most likely totally cool,” I said brightly, despite the pinprick of worry that I couldn’t shake. “What did Pierce say about it?”
“‘What’s done is done.’” He let out a breath. “I can only hope that all is indeed . . . cool.” But a whisper of doubt remained in his eyes as he returned to work.
I dove into slide preparation, focusing on accuracy and precision in a semi-successful attempt to keep the bone-deep worry for Nick at bay. When we finished, I headed to the media room. I couldn’t be with Nick. Not yet. I knew I was being a coward, but I would totally lose it for real if I had to keep seeing him being so . . . not-Nick. My Nick.
Though I fully expected the media room to be empty since it was 5 a.m., the sound of laughter and voices drifted into the hall. To my surprise, Victor and all the humans except Bear were present, listening to Rosario recount some humo
rous event.
Annoyance raced through me that they could be laughing at a time like this. Yet in the next instant, my ire drained away. It wasn’t their fault shit was so borked. Besides, sometimes you had to laugh to keep from falling to pieces.
My dad saw me and scrambled to his feet. “Angel! Is Nick okay?” He hurried to wrap me in his arms.
“He’s . . . stable,” I said. “Why are you all awake?”
“We heard about Nick,” Jane said simply. Beside her, Portia nodded.
I sniffled at the unexpected show of support. “Thanks. Bear’s with him now.”
Portia smiled warmly. “Dante here was telling us the story of how he got shot in the derriere.”
Rosario chuckled and gingerly shifted position on the very fluffy cushion beneath his wounded ass. “Yes, I was about to describe how you ran across the spit of land and launched yourself into the water with a psycho-manic war cry.” He cleared his throat then let out a keening and ridiculous ululation, causing everyone to burst into laughter.
Even me, though I attempted to glower. “That is not what it sounded like. It was more of a—” I shrieked a screeching eeoooeeeeoooeeeeeeeleeleee that had Rosario lifting his hands in surrender.
“Dear god, please never make that noise again,” he pleaded. “Haven’t you hurt me enough?”
“Me? I didn’t shoot you in the butt.”
Rosario grinned. “Not the butt, yet you have shot me.”
I realized he was referring to the incident before Mardi Gras, when both he and Judd had been after me, though for different reasons. “You deserved to be shot then. And I barely nicked you. Besides, it was your fault I ended up spending the night in the swamp only to have Judd show up missing half his head.”
Rosario whistled. “That shit was weird. A couple of minutes after you took off, he climbed his feet and staggered away in the same direction. I couldn’t do much though, since I was busy trying to stop the bleeding from where you shot me, plus I didn’t have another dart.”
“Hang on,” I said. “You didn’t think there was something completely wrong when a dead man with most of his skull missing got up and walked off?”
Rosario gave me a shrug. “Honestly? My first thought was, ‘Oh, I guess he was a zombie this whole time.’ I didn’t really know a lot about zombies back then. Judd seemed like he was going after you, but he was moving pretty slow, and you had a good head start.” His mouth quirked. “And, you weren’t exactly my favorite person at that moment. And then after I crashed the four-wheeler, I was on so many pain meds I didn’t know what was real!”
Laughs and shudders swept the room.
“Is Dante telling his I-got-shot-in-the-ass story again?” Rachel said from behind me, voice weary but touched with humor. She stepped past me, though not before giving me what sure felt like a comforting pat on the shoulder.
She went over to sit beside Rosario, closer than casual friends would sit. Or even close friends. And the look they exchanged said quite clearly they’d be banging buddies if not for Rosario’s injury.
“They were riveted by my tale,” Rosario told Rachel with a grin. “Until Angel re-created her war cry.”
“Oh, that’s what the sound was!” Rachel smiled at me, and not in a mean way. “I thought Dante was whining again about having his bandages changed.”
Of course everyone thought that was hysterical, myself included. Rachel launched into an amusing story of her own, regarding Brian and a loose cow. She was getting to the good part with the emu when I felt a touch on my arm. Marcus.
He did a little head tilt to indicate he needed to talk to me. About Nick, most likely. I left the media room and followed him a short distance to an unoccupied office.
He remained silent until he’d closed the door then asked, “Are you okay?”
“Physically, yes,” I said. His expression was unreadable. “Are you . . . mad?”
He sat on a corner of the desk and folded his arms. “You said you were following a solid hunch, but I don’t understand why you went out there on your own. We’re slammed, but I could have sent someone to be your back up. I expected better judgment from you.”