wanted my bracelet,” I told him, moving the conversation away from my feelings, which were clearly making his brain short circuit. Where was Riley when I needed her?
Beck looked even more confused by my statement. "Was it expensive?"
I shook my head. "No, I think he hid the data chip in it. He gave it to me right before I left for camp and threatened that if I ever took it off, he’d punish the staff. I figured it was a tracking device, but now it seems like he hid those stolen files right on me."
Beck's brows shot up. "Where is it now?"
Shrugging, I ran a hand through my tangled hair. "I have no idea. I could have lost it in the fight back at"—my voice caught—"at Ruth's house." I'd barely known her for a day, but her death was going to be a dark mark on my soul for life, I already knew it.
"So it could still be there?" Beck asked, already pulling his phone out of his pocket to tap out a message.
I nodded, then sighed. "Yeah, that's my best guess."
"Jasper's on his way there now," Beck told me as his phone lit up in his hands. "Can you describe it?"
"It's a silver chain bracelet with a chunky lock on it," I told him with a shrug. "I don't imagine there will be multiple bracelets scattered around the floor between dead bodies and broken furniture, though, so I would think it's enough to just look for any bracelet."
Beck looked up from his phone, quirking one dark brow up. "Huh," he murmured. "You've got a bit of sass in there after all. Good for you."
I rolled my eyes, having no snappy comeback for that, but then found myself staring at Ben's dead body again.
Shit. He didn't deserve that end. He'd been a genuine friend in the short time I'd known him. Had Dylan even seen him lying dead there? He hadn't said anything, so maybe not.
"Do you think we can go somewhere else?" I asked the big, threatening bastard who was already back on his phone, presumably talking to Jasper about my missing bracelet.
He seemed confused by my question, then looked around the room and realized what I was really asking: Can we go somewhere significantly less like a scene from Dexter and get this mess cleaned up?
"Yeah, sorry. I forget sometimes," he murmured, tucking his phone back into his pocket and peered around the floor. For a moment I was totally lost as to what he was searching for, but then he located my hospital slippers and brought them over for me. "Uh, here." He placed them down beside my bed on a patch of floor not covered in blood, and I tucked my feet inside them.
"Evan can come clean this mess up," Beck told me as we left my room.
I paused just outside the doorway, though, looking back into the room at the shadowed lump that was Ben. "It's not just a mess to clean up," I told him defensively, a frown drawing my brows low. "Ben died trying to defend me. He didn't deserve that; he was a good person.”
Beck winced, seeming to hear his own words back for the first time. “Yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean… Look, death and violence are a part of life for us, so it doesn't touch me as deeply anymore. I don't even remember what it's like—seeing someone you like be killed—for the first time. So, I'm not trying to be a dick or anything. Just practical."
"Jaded," I corrected him. But then, because there was nothing else to do, I continued along the silent, empty hospital corridor with him. "Where are we going?" I wrapped my arms around myself as tremors started quivering my skin. All I wore were some ugly granny panties, a thin, cotton hospital gown, and the slippers Beck had found for me, and it wasn't enough considering my state of shock.
"I'll take you to our safe house," he told me, pressing the elevator button. "Riley's there; she'll take care of you. Give you clean clothes and shit."
That actually sounded pretty great, so I followed along gratefully. I didn't bother asking where the hospital staff on my floor had gone or how he and Dylan had known I was in trouble. I was too damn tired, and if he told me that lovely nurse, Grace, or Dr. Mooney were dead, I might lose my tenuous grip on sanity.