(Blood and Bone, #2) Sin and Swoon(21)

I don’t say anything. Not because I don’t think she’s adaptable, but because that’s not how I recall it at all.

“Fine, I acted like a dick. I hate cats. I’m a dog person. But you switched, and I thought it was because you had the whole anti-lesbian thing like that girl in your room. She called Leona a dyke.”

My jaw drops. “Angie would never.” I don’t know that I believe my statement or hers. While Angie’s prejudiced as the day is long toward all other Europeans, quite savagely too, I have never heard her mutter a word against gays. It’s possible she is also homophobic, but unlikely, as all her rants involve nationality and their inferiority to Scotland.

Her brow furrows. “No, Steph is the one who did it.”

“Steph?”

Michelle shakes it off. “It doesn’t matter. I’m glad we talked about this.”

I’m stuck on Steph, but she leans in and hugs me before I can rationalize why Angie lied about her name to them. Her name is Angie, I’ve seen her real driver’s license. She stands up abruptly and points. “I’m going back in. You coming?”

I shake my head, feeling weird and sick, and the hot dog isn’t improving a single thing about my situation. I suspect that huge bite might try to come back up and that is how I will die. My greatest fear ever, choking on throw-up alone in the bathroom.

I nod at the street. “I think I’m gonna jump this rope and head home. I feel like ass. Really nasty ass too.”

Michelle chuckles, giving me another hug. “I’ll come with you to get a cab.”

“No, it’s fine. I can walk.” I don’t know why I don’t want to be vulnerable with her, maybe because she hates my cat and all other cats. It’s suspicious to see someone not love cats. They are the greatest companions a person could ask for.

She tries to argue but I get up and climb over the rope, waving my hand for a cab. The bouncer here in the roped-off area waves at the cabs for me. When he gets one, I climb in, waving back at Michelle as she goes inside.

I mutter my address and sit back, hoping I don’t get sick and die in the cab.

As the car stops in front of my school on the quiet side of town, I pay the man and climb out, working hard at not staggering. The staggering drunk coed is always the one to get raped and murdered.

“Ashley!”

I cringe when I hear the voice, and not because I just thought about rape. I take another step away before I turn back, giving him a scowl. He’s hurt my heart and now my pride too.

“Ash, wait up. We need to talk.” When he gets closer I step back again, trying to get a bit of distance. He stops about three feet away from me. “I haven’t been honest.” His eyes narrow, and the hint of the accent I have caught before is completely there.

“I know.”

He nods. “I saw you go to the school today—”

“You followed me?”

He winces but doesn’t back down. “I had to. It’s my job.” He takes a step closer. “I am trying to find someone, and I trailed you because you fit the person’s taste in women.”

His story sounds insane, but I don’t say anything. What could I even add?

“Me and a few others have been hoping the guy would try to grab you and we would be there. We would keep you safe. But it hasn’t happened. He hasn’t tried, even though this is his favorite city and you are his favorite type of girl.”

My stomach slips from its usual spot right into my bowels. “You have been waiting for me to get abducted? Are you insane? By who?”

“Whom. And we don’t know. That’s why we’ve kept close tabs on you and a couple of other girls, and so far nothing. If we knew him he’d be in jail.”

My skin crawls, and the liquor makes my reaction to this ridiculousness painful. “Who is ‘we’? What do you do for a living?”

He clenches his jaw and looks down. “I work for the government, in surveillance and undercover work.”

“What’s your name?”

“Rory Guthrie. I used to be Irish intelligence, and now I am American.” He looks down, fighting something, his words maybe. “And I have made a mistake telling you this, but I need this to end. The guy isn’t ever coming to grab you. He isn’t ever going to take you, because I’m always here. I ended it because I needed to do my job, and I wasn’t.”

I feel sick, but scared of the hot dog piece that might actually kill me. “Is that really your cabin?”

He nods.

“So you took me there against the rules then? Against the plan?”

He doesn’t need to nod; the guilt all over his face is enough.