“Get up.” The dark voice of my nightmares wasn’t helping. I opened up one eye then two; Chase was towering over me, looking absolutely terrifying.
I had a nightmare like this once.
It ended with my death.
Huh, how very prophetic of me.
I let out a little laugh then winced as hammers went off in my temples like a friggin’ high school marching band drum-line.
Good movie, solid drumming.
“Are you seriously still drunk?” Chase asked in an irritated gruff voice that had me wanting to cover my ears with those cute earmuffs Violet wore to New Years two years ago, they were pink, and I remember thinking her cheeks matched the hue and made her look so damn cute I wanted to kiss her nose.
Holy hell.
Yeah, still drunk.
I held up my fingers and made a small motion. “Bit.”
He leaned down on his haunches, possibly wrinkling that expensive-looking three-piece suit. Damn… dude even had a pocket kerchief or whatever the hell those were called.
I tugged at the silk kerchief. “Are those red polka dots?”
“Father’s Day gift.” He gritted his teeth when I burst out laughing.
And then I was getting jerked up by my T-shirt, a rip sounded. “Hey, that’s my favorite shirt!”
“Oh, I’m sorry let me give you a minute to take it off before I shove you in the shower.”
“Really? That’s actually super—”
Chase shoved me into the guest room shower after dragging my ass a few feet down the hall of Nixon’s house. An icy deluge struck my face and quickly saturated my clothes.
“Aghhhh, son of a bitch, that’s cold!”
“Oh, is it? I couldn’t tell.” Chase held my body under the freezing spray until I started choking.
“I’m sober, I’m sober!” I yelled, shoving him away from me and leaning my heavy body against the cool tile. “Why the hell are you torturing me?”
“I’m bored.” He sighed in agitation.
“You’ve got to be shitting me.” I slumped against the tile even more and blinked up at him. “You’re bored, so you want to kill me?”
“Correction, if I wanted to kill you, I’d count to three, watch you run, then fire a few rounds.” He shrugged like it was normal to hunt humans and then tossed a towel at me. “Go pack.”
I sobered. “Do you know something I don’t?”
“She’s on a plane right now without your protection. Go pack your shit. I know you were sputtering something about Fall break early last night. Junior, Serena, and Ash are gonna take a later flight out tomorrow; God knows they need a break after everything. You’ll stay at one of my guest houses for a few days. Just make sure she’s safe, report to me, nobody else, got it?”
“Have you… talked to Phoenix?”
“Yeah, why?” Chase frowned.
Shit on a stick.
“No reason.” I sighed. “I’ll just be packing then…”
“Glad we have an understanding.” He grabbed my shoulder and then whispered, “Hurt one hair on her head or make her cry, and I’m going to rip out your spleen through your tiny dick and feed it to the cows.”
“The hell is wrong with everyone feeding things to cows?” I muttered. “You know pigs leave less of a mess, right?”
Chase’s face freaking lit up like a Christmas tree. “What a wonderful idea, thanks for the suggestion. Looks like we’re buying pigs!”
“We aren’t pig people.”
“We aren’t cow people either,” he pointed out, then grabbed his cell and started dialing. “Yeah, Nixon, how do you feel about pigs?”
I was clearly dismissed.
I stumbled down the hall and made my way into the kitchen. Phoenix was sitting there, sipping coffee with Andrei.
What the hell were they now?
A mafia version of Supernatural gone horribly wrong?
“Gentleman,” I rasped as I grabbed my keys then thought better of it. “Anyone feel generous enough to give me a ride to my house and sneak me in the back door, so my mom doesn’t beat me senseless?”
Phoenix slowly took another sip, making a slurping noise that had me wanting to throw something while Andrei just grabbed a newspaper and opened it.
I sighed. “Look, I’m slightly drunk from last night, and I’d rather not get hit by a road raged soccer mom in her minivan while she belts Post Malone like she too knows pain.”
“Love that Post Malone,” Phoenix said and then slowly, literally slower than an old man getting out of his seat for Bingo night, he rose to his feet, stretched his arms over his head, and said, “I’ll take you. We need to talk anyway.”
“Figured that’s why you were here in the first place,” I grumbled.
“We just like Nixon’s coffee best.” Andrei shrugged. “Hey, since you’re taking him can I have the—”
“Here you go.” Phoenix read his mind like a good 1950’s wife and handed him the business section. “I’ll be back soon.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
“So fucking weird.” I shook my head at them. “I don’t like you two being friends.”
“We aren’t friends,” they said in unison.