A Geek Girl's Guide to Arsenic (24 page)

I swung my hands forward and planted them on the cold grass. In as swift a move as I could manage, my feet were under me in a runner’s position, and I bolted forward.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he called.

A loud crack split the night and my ankle rolled. Pain splintered around my sides, radiating from my back. He’d shot me again. Tears of frustration heated my eyes. The sting from close range was nearly unbearable. Hate simmered in my gut. I hobbled farther. He shot me again.

I collapsed with a grunt. The last of my oxygen. I lay still, like a wounded animal, sipping fresh air and pressing back the pain. I needed to catch my breath before I could fight or run again.

He approached with palms up. “I don’t want to hurt you, Mia.” Slowly, he crouched and plucked hair from my tear-stained cheeks.

I filled my chest with determination and whipped my aching head forward to connect with his. He flopped onto his bottom with a shout.

I screamed in pain, forced myself back into motion and ran into the night, slipping between darkened booths and moving steadily toward the security office. My head wailed in throbbing agony, and dots danced in my sight. I demanded my body stay upright and in motion. I had the rest of my life to pass out. A very long life without Adam. There was work to do first.

My body complied with reluctance. The whimpering was impossible to silence, but I did my best to lessen the impact of my steps and stick to the shadows. Pain sliced through my brain, lungs and back with every move, every breath. When the security booth came into view, adrenaline ran fresh. I grabbed the biggest fallen limb I could and marched at the office like the twenty-by-twenty foot piñata it was. I needed what was inside, and there was no time for trying the knob.

“Mia.” Adam clucked his tongue from a few steps away. “Did you think I’d lost you?”

I swallowed hard and swung the limb, connecting it to the door’s window with all the anger I had left. Glass fell from the top of the door in a twinkling cascade, glinting under the autumn moonlight. I stuck my arm inside and unlocked the door while Adam approached.

I opened the door and slunk around it, putting heavy aluminum between his paintball gun and my body.

He peered at me through the broken window. “Put the stick down, Mia. I don’t want to shoot you again, but you’re not cooperating. The gun is an incentive. This is called negative reinforcement. I tried positive reinforcement. I was friendly. I gave you a flower. You didn’t respond to that, so I had to switch training methods.”

I forced my mouth shut, despite the rage clawing to get out.

“Drop the stick, Mia.”

“Stop saying my name.”

“MiaMiaMiaMiaMiaMia.”

“Stop.” The tremor in my hands spread up both arms to my chest. Panic. My windpipe narrowed. My throat burned. I dropped the limb and yanked the receiver off the phone on the desk behind me.

Adam ripped the door open as my finger hit the final number. He shoved my sternum hard, and I toppled over folding chairs onto the dusty linoleum floor.

He pulled the phone to his ear and scowled. “Who is this? Who did you call, Mia? Your marshal? Your giant ginger? Your sister?” He shook the phone. “Hello?”

I’d dialed 9-1-1. Had the call not gone through?

He groaned, exhaling and swearing. He slammed the receiver down repeatedly, growing angrier with each hit. His freckles disappeared beneath the bright crimson of his cheeks. “You called the police?”

I felt the floor for something to use as a weapon. There was nothing.

He launched himself at me, wrenching me onto my feet and hauling me out by my hair.

I screamed in pain as I stumbled along beside him. The black dots in my vision morphed into a tunnel, dimming my world. “I’m going to pass...” My knees buckled before I could finish.

Adam went down with me. I stayed down, barely conscious, formulating a new plan. He looped thin arms beneath mine and dragged me toward the lot. I dug my heels in, making the task as difficult as possible.

He grunted along at a snail’s pace like an ant unwilling to put down the cookie. “We have to leave now. You’ve ruined our escape.” His voice wobbled. “Why’d you have to ruin it, Mia? I had it all planned!”

Adam leaned me against the wheel of his car and popped the trunk.

I pulled my legs under me, preparing to run, knowing I couldn’t.

“Get up!” He pulled my arms above my head.

I pretended to remain unconscious. Dead weight. I laid my head against the ground, unable to form another coherent thought, fearful I’d be out cold soon. The hard-packed earth rumbled beneath my ear, and I winced.

Adam swore.

Blinding light crossed my closed lids. Someone was here.

He slammed the trunk and tripped over my legs, scrambling for his car door.

I swallowed dirt as Adam shifted into drive and tore away from me in the large earthen lot. Scents of mud and grass and exhaust choked me into a coughing rage, which splintered my head in ragged strips of pain.

Strangers surrounded me, talking gibberish and rolling me onto my back. I floated in the air, tears streaming. The empty field was suddenly thick with lights and people. Jake’s truck blocked Adam’s car only a few yards away. Adam was splayed across the hood like a girl in a nineties rock video. Jake held him there by his face.

Satisfied I’d won, I let my eyes fall shut.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I got dressed on Thanksgiving morning for the first time in nearly a week. I chose a vintage wrap dress in taupe, with my black patent leather heels and clutch. If I’d spent another day in yoga pants, I’d have lost my mind. Marcella had checked on me every afternoon, delivering her rich homemade meals and pastries. The Lindseys kept me in coffee, and the Kubickas made sure there were endless pints of ice cream to go with Marcella’s desserts. Horseshoe Falls had rallied around their fallen IT girl, and Fifi had handled things at the clubhouse in my absence. In summary, I was well rested, plump as the turkey in Grandma’s oven and spoiled rotten.

I spent the morning curling my hair and dressing. According to my doctors, a whack on the head like mine could slow me down for weeks. Maybe, but it wouldn’t keep me from Thanksgiving with my family. We had good cause to celebrate. Earlier this week Grandma had told Petal where to stick the Earth Hugger offer. Bailing on us at the first sign of crisis wasn’t what our company needed. Instead, she’d signed with Earth Hugger’s biggest competitor, Berry First, a global conglomerate I’d assumed was out of our league. I’d sent them a sample basket after a recent convention, and Grandma nudged them when she’d had enough of Petal’s despondency. Score for Grandma. Berry First offered her a deal no one could believe, including Petal.

I applied false lashes and two coats of Kiss Me Not fuchsia nail polish with a smile. Our family was going to be just fine.

The ride to Grandma’s was short but precious. Large oaks dripped with rainbows of autumn leaves and blessedly shaded the streets. I inhaled my final few minutes of quiet until bedtime. Thanksgiving with the Connors was a marathon. We had appetizers out all day, ate dinner early, played board games and watched movies, while routinely making our ways back for leftovers throughout the evening. The fun didn’t end until Bree passed out from her twelfth cup of eggnog and I had meat sweats.

Grandma’s drive was packed. Cars spilled from the black asphalt onto the street. Dad’s Plymouth, Tom and Bree’s minivan and Grandma’s Mercedes claimed the driveway. I parked Stella at the curb behind Marvin’s Cadillac and shut my door gently so as not to encourage a headache.

Rich, buttery aromas wafted from her home, curling around me and cupping my face with flavorful promises of foodgasms to come.

Christmas music and garland filled the rooms. Marvin and Grandma played Monopoly in the living room. He waved as I passed. She cackled. “I win! Give me all your money!”

Mom and Bree buzzed around the kitchen island, setting the hors d’oeuvres on trivets and tiered trays, shoving dishes in and out of oven doors and shooing Dad away from the candied bacon.

“Mia!” Mom hugged me with enormous oven-mitted hands. “I’m so glad you’re here. Look at you! You look amazing! How do you feel?”

“Thanks.” I pulled up a seat at the island and relaxed. “I feel a lot better.”

Bree slid a glass of eggnog my way.

I made a crazy face. “It’s noon.”

“No. It’s Thanksgiving.” She spun toward the radio, where “Jingle Bell Rock” had started, and turned it up. Her headband had a turkey on it, wearing a Santa hat.

I laughed. “How many have you had?”

“None for me.” She winked. “Can’t I just be happy?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

The doorbell rang. I did a quick head count and groaned.

Bree shoved me off my stool. “Get the door.”

“Geez.” I shoved her back. “You’re acting weird. This had better not be an ambush. You promised.”

“I invited a guest. So, what? Now go. It’s for you.”

I bit back a thousand reasons her statement was ludicrous and stormed toward the door, determined to save my day. Whoever was out there could come back tomorrow. When I wouldn’t be here.

Gwen beat me to the door on Tom’s shoulders.

“Must be nice to fly.” I tugged one of her tiny pigtails when Tom set her on the floor. He hid behind the door again, pulling it open as he retreated.

Jake rocked on his heels outside. Dark jeans, blue plaid button-down and what looked like a Captain America T-shirt underneath. The familiar red-and-white rings of his shield peeked above a button left open at his collar. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

Gwen slapped a chubby palm against the glass door. “Bababadoo!”

I scooped her up and opened the door. “Come in.”

Jake obliged. A big white gift bag swung from one wrist. Gwen strained against my grip, reaching for him. He poked her round tummy. “You look beautiful in pigtails. Ever heard that before?” He dug in the bag and produced a stuffed turkey. “This is for you.”

She grabbed it in both hands and kicked her feet until I set her on the floor. She shoved the turkey’s head in her mouth and clapped. Her feet were invisible beneath the giant green dress as she swept away, eager to show off the prize.

Tom shut the door and offered his hand to Jake. “Glad you could come. I know your family has plenty to keep you busy today.”

He tucked his chin in agreement. “True, but I can’t turn down dinner at Mary’s.”

Mary’s? Since when was Jake on a first-name basis with Grandma, and when had Tom had the chance to invite Jake for Thanksgiving? “Did I miss something?”

Tom turned toward the kitchen. “Yeah. About a week. A lot can happen in a week.”

“Like what?” I smiled at his Thanksgiving shirt. He wore it every year for tradition. Mom bought it for him while he and Bree were dating. A cartoon pilgrim, hiding a knife behind his back, motioned a turkey to join the feast. The caption read:
Come on.
Get Stuffed.

He rubbed his palms together like he always did when he had gossip. “Nate asked Jake and me to play REIGN as test subjects. He wanted us to challenge some existing aspects of the game and look for ways to optimize usability.”

Smart. “But you aren’t gamers.”

Tom wagged his chin in disagreement. “Nate says everyone’s a gamer. We just don’t know it yet. He wants to introduce future gamers to REIGN. Bring them in with your game. Like a gateway drug. He thinks it’s a good way to create brand recognition and loyalty.”

I gave the men my best angry eyes. “You’ve been testing REIGN while I was laid up watching Netflix? No fair. Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Jake dug in the bag. “We were working. You were supposed to be resting, and I am a gamer. This is for you.” He handed me a file.

I turned it over in my hands. “You brought me paperwork? I think I’d have rather had the turkey.” I worked uselessly to smooth the confusion on my brow.

Jake sighed and flipped the cover open. He tapped the papers. “It’s information on gun training and a membership to the local range. You get lessons, practice time and the test for a concealed carry license when you pass. I already spoke with your dad about it, and he’s on board. You can practice at my place anytime, and there might be a gun in it for you at Christmas if you play nice.”

Aww
. I took it back. My heart did a goofy flip thing. He’d be around at Christmas? “Thank you.”

He scrutinized me. “I don’t like it and I wish you’d stay out of trouble, but I’m beginning to see that summer fiasco wasn’t a fluke. You’re a habitual offender. Pepper spray and some college self-defense courses won’t do the job forever.”

I stepped forward on impulse and looped an arm around his middle for a squeeze. I generally adhered to the no-touching-without-an-invitation rule, but the gift did something to me. He trusted me with a gun. He accepted me, faults and all. I had no plans to ever carry a gun, but it was the thought that counted and, coming from Jake, this was huge. The moment my cheek hit his chest, I regretted it and leaned away. “Sorry.”

He attempted to hug me back at the last second, and the whole thing was arms and awkward.

We looked at each other until I thought I’d combust from the pressure. I loathed silences like these. My tongue nearly vibrated with the need to yammer about anything that would end the moment.

Jake reached into the bag again. “I brought you something else. This one’s not from me.”

I smoothed my skirt and gave the file another look.

He handed me a large white envelope with embossed rings in the corners. “It’s from Parker and Eric. They want to invite you to their wedding. Parker had your old address. She called me for the new one, but I told her I’d see you today so...”

“Oh. Thanks. I’d love to.” I grabbed the envelope, but he didn’t let go. “What’s wrong?” Maybe he’d hoped I’d say I couldn’t come. Maybe attending his brother’s wedding was too much, too soon? The last time he closed a case in my area, he hadn’t called for three months. Had I read into the gun thing too much? Maybe keeping me alive was a basic Archer instinct and nothing personal. Parker’s invitation probably ruined his plan to avoid me until someone else I knew dropped dead. So, hopefully never. “Oh.” I reduced my grip on the invitation.

He dipped his head. “The thing is, the reception card has a place to mark your plus one. I’d hoped you might come as my plus one.”

“As your date?” My cheeks heated. “I mean...” A headful of words fumbled over one another in my mouth. “It’s okay if not. I just need to know what I’m dealing with. Either way is fine. I still want to go. Parker’s great. Your brother seems nice, too. Eric, I mean. Also, Dan.” I forced my mouth shut and prepared to slap a hand over it if it opened again.

His charming smirk frustrated me. “It’s my fault. I should’ve been clearer. I’m asking if you’ll be my date to Eric’s wedding.”

“I have to check my calendar.”

A belly laugh rumbled through him. “Well, all right. You’ll let me know?”

“Mmm-hmm.” I pressed the invitation to my chest and turned on my toes toward the kitchen. “You hungry?”

“Little bit.”

Dad handed us empty plates upon arrival. He had his sweatpants on. Ready for the marathon. “Gwendolyn says we can have appetizers. Good to see you again, Jake. Tell your brother I’m sorry for chewing him out at the hospital. I was out of line.” He clapped Jake on the shoulder and looked at me. “Where’s Nate?”

I smiled. “Meeting Fifi’s parents for a pre-dinner, totally casual, non-date afternoon. I think it’s more. He won’t admit it. He’s eating dinner at his mom’s this evening.” I checked my family’s faces for appropriate levels of shock and awe at my most excellent gossip.

Jake set his plate on the counter and dug into the bag again. “Knew it.”

I scoffed. “You didn’t know it.”

“Did too.” He discarded his now-empty bag and placed an apple pie on the counter. Plastic wrap clung to the cinnamon-dusted face and tiny apple-shaped cutouts in the top. “Nana sent this. I told her you’d have plenty, but she called me a freeloader.”

The room chuckled.

Mom uncovered the pie and set a serving knife beside it. “Thank your Nana very much for us. It smells like heaven.” She squeezed past me to pat Jake’s stubbled cheek. “I’m glad you came.”

My heart did another dumb flip. Maybe there were other side effects to a concussion, like irrational attachment disorder. That had to be a thing. He glanced my way, and I turned my head.

Bree caught me. Her lips were puckered up and pulled to one side. She thought she knew things she couldn’t know.

I filled my plate with tiny sandwiches, veggies and Mom’s dip, careful to leave room for all my favorites, still baking in the ovens. I took a seat beside Jake at the island. “What happens to Bennie the Bean with no one to take the stand now that John is gone?”

He tapped broad thumbs against the marble counter. “I guess we trust the legal system to do its job and hope the feds have built a solid prosecution.”

I huffed. “He’s getting off.”

“Probably. How’s your head?”

“Okay. Thank you for asking.” The hair on my arms stood at attention. The kitchen had stilled around us. Humility crept over me. “What?”

My family jumped to attention, reverting to whatever they’d been up to before they were caught staring.

I angled toward Jake and lowered my voice, despite the fact we were on display like puppies in a store window. “And Adam?”

“Not going anywhere for a very long time.”

I released a thankful breath. “So, what’s next for you now?”

He wiped his mouth with a turkey-shaped napkin and turned my way. The creases on his forehead deepened and released before he spoke.

I braced myself for what would come. The air around us thickened with tension.

He shook his head slightly. A small smile played at the corners of his normally grouchy mouth. “Turkey, I think.”

Whatever he’d considered saying, he’d changed his mind.

Lucky for him I’d given up sleuthing, or I might have been tempted to figure that one out.

* * * * *