"I promised him he'd live if he told us what he knew."
He pulled back, holding my face in his hands. "You could have killed him during the fight last night and not blinked, but because you promised him safety, you're upset."
I pulled away from Richard, standing, tugging the sheet out from under his knees. "If I give my word, it means something. I gave my word that he'd live. If he's dead now, I want to know why."
"The cops are on the other side. Don't piss Verne and his pack off, Anita. They're all we have."
I knelt by the suitcase on the other side of the bed and started getting out clothes. "No, Richard, we have each other and we have Shang-Da and Jason and Asher and everyone we brought with us. If Verne's people went behind my back last night and killed Terry, we don't have them. They have us. Because we need them, and they know it."
I stood with an armful of clothes and shuffled towards the bathroom with the sheet still around me. For some reason, I just didn't want to be na**d in front of anyone right now, not even Richard. I made one stop on the way. I got the Browning out from under my pillow and piled it on top of the clothes. No more going unarmed for the rest of the trip. If someone didn't like it, they could lump it. That included my nearest and dearest. Though, to Richard's credit, he didn't say a word about the gun or anything else as I closed the door.
30
I wanted a long, hot shower. I settled for a brief, hot shower. I'd called Dolph back first to let him know I wasn't dead. But all I managed to do was leave a message. I was hoping to give him the name Franklin Niley and see if there was any criminal connection. Dolph didn't usually share police info with me unless we were involved in a case together, but I was hoping he'd make an exception. Dirty cops are one of Dolph's least favorite things. He might help just to spite Wilkes.
I put on white jogging socks, blue jeans, and a royal blue tank top. I'd put a short-sleeved dress shirt over the tank top to camouflage the Browning. The holster would chafe a little around the edges, but when it comes to summer wear for concealed carry, the options are not limitless. I'd have worn shorts if I hadn't planned on tramping through the woods after trolls and biologists. I was trading being cooler for protection from the underbrush.
I smeared hair goop through my curls while they were still damp, combed it, and the hair was done. Since I didn't bother with makeup, it was a quick shower. I stared into the oval of mirror that I'd cleaned off with the towel. The rest was still lost to steam. The bruises from the original beating were gone, swallowed into my skin as if they'd never been. But my mouth was slightly puffy on one side, and a spot of red sat on my skin near my mouth like a wound. At this rate, I could have a beating a day and be healed in time for the next one.
There were voices on the other side of the door. One of the voices was Richard. The other voice had a low bass rumble to it that sounded like Verne. Good; I needed to talk to him. There were more voices. I heard Nathaniel's voice, high and clear: "I didn't know what else to do."
The gang was all here. I wondered what the topic of conversation was. I had a few ideas.
I put the Browning down the front of the jeans. As long as I didn't sit down, I was okay. The barrel was too long for comfortable sitting. I opened the door, and the conversation stopped like I'd pulled a switch. Guess I was the topic of conversation.
Nathaniel was standing the closest to me. He was wearing silky jogging shorts and a matching tank top. His long hair was in a thick braid down his back. He looked like an ad for an upscale gym. "I was on guard, Anita, but they're cops. I didn't know what to do." He looked away, turned away, and I had to catch his arm to turn him back to me.
He turned those big lilac eyes to me.
"Next time, just yell a warning. That's all you could have done differently."
"I suck as a bodyguard," he said.
This was sort of true, but I didn't want to say it to his face. There really wasn't much he could have done.
I looked across the room at Shang-Da. He was sitting with his back to the wall, balanced effortlessly on the balls of his feet. He was dressed in black slacks and a white, short-sleeved shirt. The claw marks on his face had turned to angry red welts. What should have been scars that he would carry for the rest of his life would be healed in a couple of days.
"If you'd been on duty, Shang-Da, what would you have done differently?" I kept hold of Nathaniel's arm while I asked it.
"They would not have gotten past me without your permission."
"Would you have fought them if they tried to handcuff you?"
He seemed to think about that for a second or two, then looked up at me. "I don't like being handcuffed."
I pulled Nathaniel into a half-hug. "See, Nathaniel, there are bodyguards who would have given them an excuse to start shooting. Don't worry about it." But secretly, I planned on Nathaniel never doing guard duty alone again. I also planned on the same for Shang-Da. For very different reasons, I didn't trust either of them alone.
Verne sat in the big chair by the window. Except for the T-shirt being different, he was dressed as I'd first seen him. Maybe that was all he had. Jeans and an endless supply of different T-shirts. He'd tied his long, greying hair in a loose ponytail.
Richard had put on a pair of jeans and blow-dried his hair, but that was it. He'd go an entire day wearing nothing but jeans or shorts, slipping on shoes only if he had to go outside. The shirt only appeared when he was going out. Richard is comfortable with his body. Of course, when you've got a body like his, why wouldn't you be?
"Are you okay?" Verne asked.
I shrugged. "I'll live. Speaking of living, how is ol' Terry? Did the hospital get his arm reattached?"
Richard reached his hand out to me. I hesitated, then took his hand. I let him draw me to my knees beside him. I took the Browning out from my jeans so I could sit between his legs. He folded me back against his bare chest, jean-clad knees on either side of me. His arms were warm and very solid. I leaned my head back against his chest. I kept eye contact with Verne the entire time.
It didn't hurt that I had the Browning na**d in my hand.