Love Lies Bleeding (9 page)

“No,” Pamela guardedly answered.

“Too bad. I was hoping we were coming into money.” He grinned at her and her heart melted.

“You’re here. You’re really here.”

“Where else would I be? Eat.”

Pamela looked down at the tray, which held chicken noodle soup and buttered toast. Two chocolate macaroons sat on a side plate. The mug held hot chocolate. “My favorites.”

“Careful with the toast.”

Ravenous, Pamela picked up a piece of toast, But before she managed a bite, she caught Grady watching her with concern. “What?”

He shook his head. She lowered the toast. “Grady?”

“It’s nothing. Just worried about you.”

“I had the craziest dream about government agents, codes in our emails, and —”

Grady lunged across the tray, covered Pamela’s mouth, and emphatically shook his head. He swirled his finger to indicate the room and then pointed to his ear.

Pamela didn’t understand. He placed a finger to his lips to indicate that she should be quiet. Then, oddly cheerful, he said, “Those drugs really have knocked you for a loop. Drink your hot chocolate. Good girl.”

Grady took the tray from Pamela’s lap and placed it on the floor. Pamela, mouth agape, just watched him as if he were a one-man play. He then crossed to the clock radio/iPod player. “I bought a new album, want to hear?”

Pamela didn’t know how respond. He prompted her with an urgent movement of his hand. “Pam?”

“Yes, yes,” she awkwardly answered. “Sure. Please do, play it.”

He turned the player on and cranked the volume. Rock blared through the tiny speakers. Whitesnake or Mötley Crüe perhaps; Pamela didn’t know the difference. She also didn’t know that Grady was into ’80s metal, or men in shiny, tight pants in general.
 

“I’ll pour you a bath? Or maybe a hot shower?” Grady, his voice still strangely pitched, crossed to the en suite door and beckoned Pamela to follow.

She did, though she was very confused, and more than a little unsteady on her feet.

•••••••••

The en suite was tiny, clean, but well worn. The tile was badly in need of updating. The porcelain sink was chipped, and there wasn’t really space for two people to turn around, let alone undress. Pamela was starting to wonder how long she and Grady had lived here, and why she hadn’t repainted the bathroom yet … also, wasn’t it odd to have so much memory loss from painkillers?

Grady turned on the shower and yanked the curtain to close off the tub.

“We’re having a shower?”

“Umm ... yeah.” Grady crossed by Pamela to close the door behind her. Obligingly, she began to undress, which was fairly simple as she was wearing only a tank top and pajama bottoms.

“Listen, Pam.” By the time Grady turned back from the door, Pamela was naked. For an odd moment, he didn’t seem to know where to look.

Pamela stepped into the shower and nearly lost her balance. “Whoa! That step’s a slipper!” she giggled, and then called out to Grady, “You coming?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Pamela grabbed some soap and began to lather. It wasn’t the type she normally used. She was a big fan of the vanilla bar she always bought from a vendor at the local farmers market.

Grady climbed in behind Pamela. She dropped her train of thought and wiggled back into him, blissfully happy. He, however, seemed oddly guarded.

“Remember soap dancer?” she murmured, striking a disco-inspired pose while rubbing her ass up against Grady’s groin.

“Of course.” Though by his tone, it kind of sounded like maybe Grady didn’t actually remember.

Pamela giggled, more than happy to refresh his memory. She turned and began to lather his chest. “We were so drunk, and I feel more than a little buzzed now.”

Grady grasped the tops of Pamela’s arms and whispered urgently. “Listen, Pam. You’ve got to be careful about who you speak to about those emails.”

Pamela’s hands and the wave of lather moved lower and lower on Grady’s body. “Uh-huh?” She wasn’t even remotely listening to him.
 

“It could be … oh … ah …” Grady choked out one last word: “Dangerous.”

Pamela paused as she looked thoughtfully down at Grady’s penis.

“Are you listening?”

“Your penis. It’s so … small.”

“Yeah, well. I’m not exactly turned on right now, you know. People could be listening.”
 

Pamela aggressively pressed Grady back against the tiled wall, then went to town rubbing and tugging his penis.

“Hey! Hey! Oh, oh! Ah, oh my God!”

Suddenly completely spitting angry, Pamela gave Grady’s balls a good grab and twist.

He screamed.

“Who the hell are you?” Pamela screamed right back.

“My balls! My balls!”

Pamela twisted again, then released him, and lunged out of the shower.

•••••••••

Grady, still cupping his crotch, made an attempt to grab Pamela as she paused to cover herself with a towel. His hand slid down her soapy arm and he fell to his knees, half in and half out of the tub. He grabbed again for her closer leg, but Pamela turned back and slashed at his face with her nails.

A large chunk of latex ripped off and dangled from his cheek.
 

Pamela screamed. She tried to shake the chunk of “skin” still attached to her nails off. Then, still horrified, she stumbled back to the door and yanked it open.

Karli, who was waiting on the bedroom side of the door, stabbed a needle into Pamela’s neck.

Grady grabbed Pamela’s arms from behind and restrained her while Karli depressed the plunger of the needle.

“Karli?” Pamela, shocked and sad, whispered.

Karli pulled the needle from her neck. “Sorry, Pom-Pom.”

Pamela’s pupils dilated. Her grip on the towel slackened.

The towel puddled around her feet. Her toes were painted sparkly pink. Those toes clenched, and then unfurled. Her eyes rolled upward as she slumped against Grady’s chest.

Grady lowered her to the ground as Karli snarled. “You stupid ass!”

“Hey! I’m way above average! The dude must be hung like a donkey!”

Karli eyed his crotch and sneered. “Of course, much more than average, sugar woogams.”

THE DEAD END

CHAPTER TEN

Medical Prison, Undisclosed Location

Pamela woke again — only this time, she was slung belly down over someone’s shoulder, perhaps Fake Grady’s. She was being carted down a long hallway punctuated by steel doors with barred windows. At least she was clothed in the tank top and pajama bottoms from before. Even though the hall was empty and Fake Grady had unfortunately already seen her ass, she wasn’t a fan of just randomly displaying it.

She had an idea those barred windows might be for observation, and even in her post-drugged drowsiness, Pamela seriously hoped they weren’t about to lock her in one of the rooms.

Karli strode on ahead. She was dressed differently, neither in slut or mourning clothes, but somewhere in between. This stretchy dress pant, collared cotton shirt look actually suited her better, like the other outfits had just been costumes, and, perhaps, this was the real Karli.

As her hazy eyesight came into focus, Pamela discerned figures beyond the barred windows. Also, there was something odd and very creepy about them. As she, Karli, and Fake Grady passed, some of these prisoners lunged and grabbed at them through the bars. Their skin was grayish and they were oddly violent. Many of them gnashed their mangled teeth together as if thirsting for blood.

Pamela looked away.
 

She didn’t care what game was being played this time. She was angry. She had just been sad before, so sad and in so much pain. Now they’d brought Grady into it. They tried to use Grady and her love against her. That crossed some line Pamela hadn’t even known was there. She had no idea what she was going to do about it, but she certainly wasn’t going to be nice.

•••••••••

Fake Grady, still carrying Pamela, followed Karli into an office. Large windows divided this room from the hallway. Two desks topped with computers and paperwork occupied one side of the room. A large metal wardrobe stood adjacent to a door on the other side.

Fake Grady slammed Pamela into a chair in front of the slightly tidier desk.

“Be nice,” Karli growled as she crossed behind the desk. Fake Grady flipped her off, and then crossed to the wardrobe.

Karli pulled a set of handcuffs out of a drawer. She circled back to Pamela. “He’s just pissed over the whole penis thing, because he thought you were hot when he first saw you.”

Pamela completely ignored Karli. Though she did twist her wrist in Karli’s hand, which forced her ex-best friend to inadvertently rip the latex hiding her suicide cuts. Karli sneered at this little bit of resistance, and easily cuffed one of Pamela’s wrists to the chair arm. Pamela, smug from figuring out this additional duplicity, raised her chin and stared resolutely ahead.

Fake Grady stood before a mirror hung on the inside of the wardrobe door, as he finished pulling off the remainder of his latex mask. Turned out, Fake Grady was really Dwayne, Karli’s partner first seen at the funeral, though Pamela hadn’t connected the two of them at the time. “Grady’s lucky he didn’t end up marrying a whore who would jerk off any —”

“Hey!” Karli interrupted his whiny rant.

“You! Don’t even get me started on you and your —”
 

“Just check to see if the doctor is ready for us.”

“— fuck buddies.” Dwayne finished his sentence under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing!” Dwayne stomped out in a huff. He slammed the door behind him like a sulky teenager.

“I just can’t breathe when he’s in the room.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have slept with him, then,” Pamela said in a completely non-confrontational yet utterly judgmental way.

Karli snorted and slumped into a chair behind her desk. “As if. And boy, if that revelation in the bathroom was any indication, did I dodge a bullet there. I guess Grady was something special in more than one department. Too bad I didn’t get a taste.”

“He would have never touched a slut like you.”

“Kitten, kitten. I’ve misjudged you. You’ve been one step ahead all day.”

Karli pulled the laptop from a bag she’d hung on chair behind the desk when she entered. Except for a small jar of sand and a sand dollar on that desk, there were no other personal items to be seen in the entire room. Even the wardrobe didn’t seem to hold any personal clothing beyond some sort of lab coat. “How about a little back scratching?” Karli asked cheerfully. “Just between agents.”

Pamela didn’t answer, but her pretty sneer spoke volumes.

“Come on, you’re too good. Almost as good as me. Who was your mentor? I’ve heard rumors that mine had a female apprentice a couple of years before me.”

Pamela still didn’t answer, so Karli tried a new tactic. “Okay, I’ll start. So, how do I know the emails are coded?” She opened the laptop and began toggling keys. “After Grady found out Erwin was dirty, he came to my secret branch of the government and confirmed his suspicions when he discovered that I had been in place for over a year already.”

“Posing as my friend.”

“Yes, keeping an eye on Grady. But don’t worry, I don’t always fake it. Ha! To communicate, we chose coded email. Seeing as we were friends already, it wouldn’t seem odd. Only during his last stint overseas, Grady’s reports became unreliable, right around the time you and he invented your little story game.”

“We’ve been writing stories since university.”

“But not about Spain, not this current version. The code is different from what he and I used, and pass phrase protected. Don’t worry, we’ll break it. Now that we have a copy.” She plugged the laptop into the desktop computer and toggled some more controls on the wireless keyboard. “But it would be quicker if you would do the honors.”

“Bite me.”

Karli laughed. “Now, due to our friendship, I didn’t want to go this far — I really thought the Fake Grady thing would work, you’re so pathetically in love with him. But we have other ways of making you talk.”

“Maybe you should have started with those ways, because the rest of this has been very aggravating.”

“This isn’t the sort of thing you start with. It’s rather experimental.”

“As in, it could kill me.”

“Oh, no. It will kill you. It just depends on what kind of dead we’re talking about and whether or not you give us any information before you die.”

“At this point, I’ll take any kind of dead.”

“If you do die, you’d have Grady to thank,” Karli nastily spat. “He modified the formula he acquired from Doyle. Without him we wouldn’t have any control over the —”

“Grady! Was! A! Medical! Officer!” Pamela shouted. Karli, her own anger barely held in check, slumped back into her seat, arms crossed and chin jutting. She’d known Pamela was going to be a problem. Thing was, some part of her just wasn’t willing to sacrifice her best friend — or, rather, her fake best friend. Relationships got very blurred for secret agents. Karli had always had a difficult time understanding boundaries.

•••••••••

In an examination room somewhere farther into the building, Mr. Doyle lay pale as death and strapped to an exam table. No marks betrayed the manner of his demise, but when the agency — or in this case, Dwayne – cleaned up, they made sure every last spot was wiped. Dwayne, or rather Karli after she’d gotten the okay to blow her cover, had decided that the information in Pamela’s head, and hard drive, was more important than the ongoing Doyle investigation.

Dwayne wandered through the open door from the hall. The doctor, who’d been leaning over the exam table, turned away from Mr. Doyle and disposed of a hypodermic syringe.
 

“Has he talked yet?” Dwayne asked, still completely pissed about his demoralizing rub and tug. Being unmanned, while an oddly frequent occurrence, was not something he relished. He blamed the fact that he’d been assigned a female partner. Karli fucked everything up for him while constantly refusing to actually fuck him.

“If he talks. If he doesn’t just turn.” The doctor’s glum tone didn’t leave much room for hope.