Proof of Life (The Potentate of Atlanta #4) - Hailey Edwards Page 0,78
that’s all any of us can do.”
“I’m sorry.” Midas addressed the wall, but there was little doubt he was talking to Bishop. “I won’t make any promises, but I will try harder not to want to murder you every time I see you.”
“Hey.” Bishop winked at me. “What else can a guy ask for?”
“You have entire notebooks full of wish lists.” I shoved him. “However, a gal could ask for a lead on Liz.”
“She’s in the wind.” He shook his head. “We’ve got a few ideas, but nothing’s panned out yet.”
“Ares is our best bet.” Midas turned to face them. “She’ll know where Liz is denning.”
“Then we need to go talk to her.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed. “Here goes nothing.”
Sliding my toes onto cool laminate flooring, I tested my ankle and found it held my weight without buckling. It didn’t exactly hurt so much as it was brutally tender, but I stood and walked without keeling over. That was definitely progress.
Hunting Liz while Midas pushed me in a wheelchair with my ankle in a cast would have seriously dinged my street cred. It was hard to look intimidating with one leg elevated and a golden god steering you where you need to go.
“How do you feel?” Midas hovered, but he didn’t swoop in to save me. “Can you manage?”
“It hurts, but nothing like it did. I can walk on it without my eyes crossing in pain.”
The door opened then, and like a messenger sent from biblical heaven, or a healer who eavesdropped on his patients, Abbott descended upon us with a plastic contraption in his hand that he pointed at me with the conviction of an archangel wielding his holy blade.
Sixteen
“You’re going to wear this.” Abbott slapped an ankle brace across my palm. “You’re going to like it.”
“I won’t,” I countered only to be contrary, “and you can’t make me.”
A quick trip to the storage cabinet produced my tennis shoes, one of them rather bloody.
“These are ruined.” He clucked his tongue. “I’m throwing them away.”
As I gaped at him, they thumped the bottom of the can. “What do you think bleach is for?”
“You don’t have time to bleach and dry the shoes if you’re going toddling off into danger this second.”
Toddling off made me sound like a baby, and I was in age compared to most gwyllgi, but grr.
I bought bleach in bulk for a reason, dammit.
“I took the precaution of having Remy procure another pair.” He returned to the cabinet. “Here we are.”
The sneakers were still in the box and smelled overwhelmingly of new.
“These aren’t my shoes,” I grumped. “I like my old shoes better.”
Midas rubbed a hand across his mouth, but it didn’t smudge his grin.
Abbott ripped out the sole in the right shoe, slid the contraption in, then replaced it with a scowl.
“I’ll make you a deal.” He crouched in front of me. “Lift your foot, please.”
I wrinkled my nose at the top of his head, but Midas crossed his arms over his chest.
No help there.
Bowling Abbott over and hobbling to the elevators, to freedom, wasn’t happening without an accomplice. I cooperated like a co-beta ought to, but I wasn’t happy about it. “What’s the deal?”
“Be a good girl, wear the brace for the next week, and I’ll bag your old shoes for you to bleach later.”
“Fine.” Gripping the bedrail, I lifted my foot and let him slide the shoe contraption on me. “I’ll do it.”
“We shall see,” he muttered. “In the meantime, I’ll keep the shoes until you fulfill your end of the deal.”
“What?” I grimaced as he Velcroed the straps into place around my tender ankle. “That’s not fair.”
“I’m not saying I don’t trust you.” He leaned back to admire his handiwork. “I’m just saying motivation is a good thing.” He rose. “You don’t have to wear it around the house, but keep it on while you’re at work for the next seven days. Seven, Hadley. Not six. Not five and a half. Not four. Seven.”
“Why did you become a healer when you enjoy inflicting pain on others?”
“We all must play to our strengths.” He stood back. “Please be careful.”
Remy had also brought me a change of clothes, which was nice. The black yoga pants were heaven and stretched over the itchy brace. The bright-pink racerback sports bra was not my favorite thing, but the white oversized Metallica tank might end up in rotation for my runs in the Active Oval.