“When did you get shot?” he asked, brows furrowing.
“I didn’t. At least I don’t think I did. There’s no bullet,” she said, then caught her breath when Silas carefully lifted the tape and it pulled. “Ow?”
“Have you put anything on it?” His eyes flicked up, his worry obvious.
“Just an antibiotic. It’s not warm, so it’s probably not infected.”
“I told you I looked at it last night,” Jack said, ignored.
Silas pulled the bandage back into place, using the old tape to fix it back down. “I brought some stuff, but nothing for infection. We can stop at a pharmacy. I need to pick up a few things, anyway.” His tone caught her intuition, and her eyes jerked to his. Shrugging, he added, “I want to try weaning you off it. Tonight. The more you take, the harder it is.”
Peri glanced at the atomic clock on the shelf, understanding. “We can stop on the way to LB’s,” she said, her ire flashing into existence when Jack cleared his throat in protest. “I want to pick up his vial of Evocane.” Fear tightened her gut, fear she might not be able to kick it. “It would probably be easier to wean me off it if you had some.”
“You’re not ditching me, Peri,” Jack threatened as he tugged his sleeves down and fastened the cuffs. “You’re going to need someone experienced to bring in Michael. Denier is a couch warrior, a bloody psychologist, and you are his latest pet project.”
Silas stood, slipping out from under Peri’s soothing hand. “If you don’t shut up, I will pop you in the mouth, Twill.”
“Try it, big man,” Jack taunted. “You will only get her dead.” Jack stood from the kitchen table, his motion smooth as he put his suit coat on. It made him look more polished, even if it was dirty and torn. “I bet you can’t run a mile without puking.”
Peri rubbed her temple. No wonder her head hurt.
Silas ran a hand over his hair and turned to her. “Why is he still alive?”
“He made me breakfast. I was waiting to kill him until he finished the dishes.”
The water was boiling, and Jack flicked the burner off. “Very funny. Ha-ha. You need me if for nothing more than to get close to Michael. Admit it. Once you get your Evocane, you’re going after him. I’m your ticket in.”
Silas eased into the kitchen to stand aggressively before Jack until he moved. “Is he for real?” he asked as he tore open two packets of coffee and filled the mugs with steaming water.
Peri shrugged, thinking the brewed coffee smelled old. “How much cash do you have? Everything I left under the silverware drawer is gone.” She took the mug as he handed it to her, grateful even as she felt guilty that he’d risked his life to find her—again. And she was going to ask for more.
“Few thousand, but it’s on my phone.” Silas’s nose wrinkled. “I’m not drinking this.”
“Caffeine is caffeine,” she said, wondering why Jack was standing before her bookshelves. “What are you doing? Hey!” she exclaimed when he reached for the photo of her on a Harley. That she didn’t remember it being taken bothered her, but not enough to throw it away.
“You need money, right?” he said as he took the back off and bills fluttered down to land on the faded braided rug. Great, he’ll never let me forget this, she thought as he gave it another shake before setting the picture down and crouching to collect the money.
“You’ve been tucking it away for years,” Jack said, his demeanor mild as he extended the bills to her. “A little every time you visited, depending on how fed up you were with Bill at the moment. You said when you got enough, you were going to quit and drive away, but you don’t remember that anymore.”
Setting down her coffee, she took the bills and made a rough count. “There’s enough here for two bikes,” she said, shocked, and Jack’s lips pressed together tightly.
“You noticed that, huh?” he said stiffly. “I’m going to do right by you, Peri. I promise.”
I was going to ride away with him, she thought, not liking that at all. But it did make one thing very clear. Her safe house wasn’t safe. Everyone, apparently, knew about it.
“We need to go,” she said, deciding her shower would have to wait. “Silas, you remember where I stashed the weapons, right?”
Mug almost lost in his big hands, Silas looked at the ceiling. “We bugging out then?”
“Yep. Soon as I change.” She looked at the coffee mug. “And maybe put that in a paper cup from downstairs.”
“Good.” Silas set his coffee on the counter and dragged the kitchen chair to sit right under the ceiling fan. “You want noisy or quiet?” he asked as he stood on it and carefully lifted a ceiling tile.
“Quiet.” Her knee was throbbing, but she ignored it as she gathered her clothes and headed for the bathroom.
“Noisy,” Jack added.
“You aren’t getting any,” she said, suddenly reluctant to enter the tiny bathroom. It still smelled like Jack’s aftershave, and in a surge of pique, she stalked to the yarn bag, dropping the half-knitted thing into the trash, needles and all. It was an Opti-sanctioned calming technique, and she was done with it. Done with Jack, done with knitting, done with it all.
Silas pulled his head out of the ceiling at the noise, and he and Jack exchanged odd, wondering looks. “If I’m coming with you, I should be armed,” Jack said hesitantly.