I felt my chin come up. “So, what’s keeping you?”
She sat down again, smoothing her skirt as she did so. “We want you to suffer, not to die,” she said casually. “We took a little blood while you were out and the lab boys have been running a full tox screen, just to make sure there’s no danger of anything unexpected happening to you.” She checked her watch again and shrugged. “You’ve been out for a while. They should be back with the results any time now. Soon as they are, we can get this party started.”
A moment later—so soon I swear Vondie must have orchestrated it—there was a tap at the door. They’d hung me with my back to it so, when anyone came in or out, I’d have the fear of anticipating their identity and purpose to add to the humiliation they were already putting me through. A nastily sophisticated little touch.
Vondie threw me a triumphant glance as she rose to meet the new arrival. I didn’t see who it was. Male, by the tonal frequency of the voice. Harried—shocked, even. I let my body droop slightly, like I was really hurting until I heard the door close again. Not much acting involved.
I expected Vondie to regain her seat for a leisurely read, but she stayed behind me at first, so all I heard was the rapid flick of turning pages.
“You’ve been a bad girl, Charlie,” she said at last, apparent pleasure in her tone. “According to the lab boys, you have Vicodin in your system. Something hurts, huh?”
This time when it came, her touch—in the deep scar at the back of my left thigh—was a sharp jab. My leg buckled and I swung precariously, gulping down the pain with enough air to swallow the noises I was desperate not to make.
By the time I’d staggered upright enough to have my feet and my breath back under me, she was seated again, watching.
“Not enough of it for you to be addicted,” she went on, as though there’d been no interruption. “But we could soon change that.”
She smiled at my frozen expression for a moment, milking it, then dipped her eyes back to the lab report. She’d almost scanned right to the bottom of the page when she stopped abruptly.
I saw her shoulders stiffen, the paper quiver as her fingers did the same. My gut tightened the same way, like we had some kind of visceral connection.
She looked up again, eyes glinting. “So, tell me, Charlie,” she said softly. “Who’s the father?”
CHAPTER 32
“What?”
I jolted like she’d hit me with that damned TASER again. The single word was torn out of my throat as the implications rushed in through the shattered hole. “You’re bluffing,” I said, and couldn’t keep the shake out of my voice.
She has to be bluffing. I can’t be! No way! Can I … ?
She watched me flounder for a moment, head on one side. “You had no idea, did you?” She smiled thinly. “Well, in that case, let me be the first to congratulate you, Charlie. You think you’ll get to keep it?”
“You’re bluffing,” I said again. Better. No wobble this time.
“It’s too early for you to be showing any signs, but give it another few weeks and those hormone changes will be kicking right in. You won’t be able to ignore them. The mood swings, the nausea, the cramps and the cravings. Before you know it, you’ll blow up like a goddamn whale.”
She rose, taking care to smooth down her skirt, emphasizing her slender figure, and gave me another malicious smile.
“I assume that bastard Meyer is the lucky guy,” she said. “Seeing as you’re listed as cohabiting. Unless you’ve been fucking your new boss on the side, just to hedge your bets. Parker’s a cutie, isn’t he?”
I clamped my mouth shut and said nothing, but she didn’t need to be a mind reader to see the slur of wild emotion tumbling behind my eyes.
“Shame you’re gonna lose that flat stomach you’ve worked so hard on but, hey, you won’t have much else to do in the slammer other than work out.” She smirked. “That and try to prevent some big butch gang of lady truckers from raping you in the showers. Still, that’ll be nothing new to you, huh?”
That punched me out of shock, brought me scrabbling back to the surface, relit the fire. “You sound like you’ve been there, Vondie,” I threw back at her. “Miss it?”
“It’s Vonda,” she growled. She took a breath, got a grip. “So he really doesn’t know?” she murmured. “Pity. We could have used that.”
I tried a laugh that came out more as a gasp. “You have no idea what you’ll be letting yourself in for, if you try hitting Sean with this … .”
“Screw what he’ll do to me,” Vondie dismissed. “What’s he going to do to you? Consider a hypothetical for a moment. Even supposing by some miracle you get out of this, what happens to your precious so-called career now?”
She waved a careless hand towards the manila file that was still lying on the floor next to her chair. “Can’t go risking your life every day, being a bullet catcher, when you’ve got a kid, Charlie.”
“I—”
“And what’s Meyer’s reaction really going to be, huh?’ She tapped her fingers against her lips. “Is he still going to be so keen on you when you’re just the little wifey at home with the squalling brat? Right now, you think you’re somebody, huh? Working for Armstrong’s outfit in New York—and what about Parker? God, the ink’s not dry on your green card yet.”
She shook her head, as if bemused by the turn of events. “What happens when you don’t have that anymore? When you spend your days up to your neck in unwashed diapers and puke? Is Meyer still going to even want you—holding him down? Holding him back?”
She smiled again, warming to her theme. “Being able to blow some guy away at sixty feet isn’t exactly the kind of skill that will impress the local neighborhood PTA. And there isn’t much else you’re good for, is there, Charlie? Of course,” she added, her expression turning sly, “there’s nothing says you have to keep it.” She nodded towards the surgical tray, towards the loaded syringes. “We could do you a favor there.”
“You bitch,” I said, ragged, losing it as the rage fizzed the edges of my vision. “You utter fucking bitch …”
Vondie laughed out loud. “Oh, Charlie, your mother would be so shocked—what a potty mouth!” she said, her voice rich with delight. “Speaking of mothers, I seem to remember from our file on Meyer that his ma comes from a long line of good Irish Catholics. He may not go to Mass every Sunday, but I’ll bet it’s gonna go way against the grain, finding out you’ve aborted his kid.”
“He won’t.” Because I won’t. Because I can’t … .
“Find out?” Vondie shook her head in synthetic disappointment, making tutting noises. “Oh Charlie, keeping those kind of secrets will kill any relationship stone dead,” she said with mocking sadness. “You know that.”
She stepped to the trolley and picked up one of the syringes out of the surgical tray. She held it against the light and tapped it with her fingernail, as if checking for air bubbles. The liquid inside was a dull yellow. I’d no idea what it was, only that I didn’t want it inside me. Or inside anything I might have inside me, either.
“Speaking of secrets, time to get you to spill yours, I think. Of course, there are a few side effects to this stuff I probably ought to warn you about,” she said, gloating openly now. This wasn’t work to her. “Birth defects, that kind of thing, but let’s not allow little things like that to worry us.”