Her garage door stood open, so she rolled inside and opened the car door. She was moving slowly now, the high of her easy escape beginning to wear off as sore muscles asserted their unhappiness. She wanted nothing more than a long soak in a hot bath, and maybe a nice, deep tissue massage. She almost groaned out loud at the very thought of how good it would feel.
"Ms. Leighton?"
Cyn jerked in surprise, her hand going to the gun in her pocket before she recognized one of Raphael's human guards standing in her garage. “What?” she said irritably.
"Are you supposed to be here, ma'am? I mean, I was told to watch the place because you'd be staying up at the estate for a few days."
"Really? And who the hell told you that?"
"Lord Raphael, ma'am."
"Figures. This is my house.” She peered at his name tag. “Tony. So as for whether I'm supposed to be here. I think that's up to me."
"I don't know, ma'am. I better check in.” He lifted his cell phone ... so Cynthia shot him in the leg. He fell to the hard concrete with a cry of pain.
"I'm sorry, Tony,” she apologized, rushing over. “Really, I am. It's nothing personal. I'm sure you're a nice guy trying to do your job. But I can't have you bringing down the house on me. I need a little air. You can understand that, can't you, Tony?” Cyn was babbling, almost as shocked by the turn of events as poor Tony, who could only moan in response.
"I'm sorry,” she repeated. She grabbed the small pillow she kept in her back seat and shoved it under his head. A quick check of the bullet wound verified that she hadn't hit anything vital, but there was still some bleeding. Ignoring his fretful attempts to stop her, she stripped off his belt and slipped it around his upper thigh in a tourniquet of sorts, grimacing at the position of his leg. The bullet might have hit bone, but she couldn't do anything about that right now.
Next, she jumped up, ran over and hit the button to close the door so her neighbors wouldn't see a bloody man lying in her garage. Bad enough they might have heard the shot, but most of them should be gone on a workday afternoon, and people really didn't pay attention to what went on outside their own little worlds anyway.
After confiscating Tony's cell phone and gun, she hurried into the condo, yanking blankets and more pillows from the downstairs closet and dumping them on the floor near the stairs. Upstairs, she snagged a couple bottles of water and some nice Percocet the oral surgeon had prescribed after pulling her wisdom teeth. As drugs went, it had been major overkill, which was why she'd never taken any, but it had made her wonder what kind of wimps he usually dealt with. On the other hand, it was perfect for poor Tony, who was going to be feeling a world of hurt very soon. She ran back to the garage. Tony glared at her with pain-fogged eyes as she was making him a nice little nest to rest in.
"You shot me,” he moaned in disbelief.
"I know. I said I'm sorry."
"I can't believe you shot me."
She just looked at him. Maybe it was shock. “Come on,” she said, tugging him up onto his one good leg. He cried out and Cyn winced in sympathy as she helped him over to the pile of blankets she'd arranged. “I'd put you in the house, but you're really better off out here, especially if it's vamps that come to rescue you. They won't be able to get into the house, you know, and even you guys,” she meant the human guards, “would have some trouble. I'm a bit paranoid when it comes to security. If they did manage to break in, the alarm would go off and the security company would come and ... well, I think Raphael would be pretty unhappy about that, don't you?"
"You shot me,” he mumbled.
"Yeah,” she said shortly. “Look, take this nice pill.” She put the pill in his mouth and held the water bottle up, forcing him to drink. “This will all seem like a dream soon.” She gave Tony a quick pat and dashed back up the stairs, racing through the rooms like a mad woman. She tore off what was left of her bloodstained clothes and put on fresh jeans and a t-shirt, along with her own heavy leather jacket. Raphael's long coat she hung in her closet, remembering with a pang how perfectly it had draped the vampire's powerful body.
Focus, Cyn! Yanking off her bloody shitkickers, she drew on her most comfortable Zanotti western boots. She grabbed whatever else she thought she might need, threw it into a duffel bag and was back in the garage in fifteen minutes. A fast check of Tony found him dozing happily, his color good, the bleeding all but stopped. All good. She nudged him awake.
"How often do you check in, Tony?"
"Not gonna tell you."
"Sure you are. Come on, how often?"
"Every hour,” he mumbled. Wonderful pills, truly.
Cyn glanced at her watch. Twenty minutes after three. So had he checked in at three? Or was he due to check in soon? She had no way of knowing, but let's assume the worst.
Standing on the back bumper of her truck, she could barely see out the long narrow window at the top of the door. No one around. With the engine running, she hit the opener, backed out, then closed the door again as soon as her hood cleared the threshold. She didn't know where she was going, but she wanted to be long gone before Tony woke up and found out she really wasn't a bad person. After all, she'd left him his cell phone.
Chapter Thirty
Cyn drove south on Pacific Coast Highway with no destination in mind. She'd considered and dismissed the idea of stopping at her office. If Raphael had thought to put a man on her condo, the next place he'd look for her would be the office. On the other hand, she really needed a shower and some rest. She picked up her phone to call the local hotels, then noticed she had two messages, both from her friend Benita. She played back the first message.
"Hey, chica. I'm calling you back."
Cyn paged forward to the next message. “Lemme esplain,” her friend said in an exaggerated Ricky Ricardo accent, “You called. I called you back. Then you call me back."
Cyn was still laughing when she hit the 10 freeway on her way to Benita's.