Sweet Peril
Page 41

Paul, a middle-aged ex-FBI sniper and hand-combat instructor, rocked back on his heels and shook his head at me.
“You sick or something?”
I pushed to my feet. “No. Sorry. Just distracted.”
“Why? Valentine’s Day?” He punched my shoulder and grinned. I had a feeling Paul was one of those freaky people who could kill someone with a pinch to a pressure point, but he was such a doting family man that you’d never know if you weren’t aware of his past jobs.
I rolled my eyes at him and said, “I had a bad day.”
“Go ahead.” He pointed to his chin. “Hit me as hard as you can. It’ll make you feel better.”
“No way.”
He laughed at me, but I wasn’t feeling playful. Paul had been trying to get me to punch him in the face for the past year. I used to think he was joking, but now I knew he was serious, which was beyond weird to me. He wasn’t afraid of pain or bruises, but I just couldn’t do it.
“All right, fine,” he said. “Enough mat work. Grab your knives and let’s practice running throws.”
I held back a groan. I sucked at throwing while in motion.
My phone beeped with a text and I ran over to check it, despite Paul’s glare. It was Veronica.
Party @ Will’s. Come w/me?
It was a Thursday night. If she was trying to go out on Valentine’s Day, and not mentioning Jay, then they must have been fighting. I nearly texted her back no, but then the thought of an ice-cold drink in my hand hit me with a stampede of tingles.
I’ll b there, I texted back.
I went back to an impatient Paul, who stood with his muscled arms crossed, ready to run me ragged.
I only hit the target twice. Twice out of, like, a million runs, turns, and throws. I was so tired of Paul yelling instructions that I almost took him up on the offer to punch him in the face. I’d never been so glad for a training session to end.
I didn’t bother looking at my watch to see when I was starting my first drink. I tilted up the beer bottle and chugged with the full intention of getting drunk. Veronica’s eyes bugged out.
“Holy hell,” she said.
“Hell is not holy. Trust me.” I tossed my bottle and popped the top off another.
“Dang, someone’s pissy tonight,” Veronica said.
The first beer warmed my insides and I leaned against Veronica.
“I guess we both had a bad day, huh?” I asked her.
“Yep.” She tried to chug her beer but had to stop halfway through. “How do you do that? Beer is so nasty.”
Yeah, it was. I clinked mine to hers. “Let’s just have fun tonight, ’kay?”
“That’s what I’m talking about, girl.”
We clinked bottles again and I hollered across the room to Will, “Can we get some music in here?”
Everyone cheered.
Oh, boy.
Not good.
I couldn’t recall all the details, but it went something like this: We drank a little. Okay, a lot. Veronica started complaining about Jay and we got in a fight. Then I heard she was sick in the bathroom, so I pushed my way in to take care of her. We ended up on the porch, crying and hugging, Veronica puking one last time in the driveway, until Jay showed up to take us both home at midnight.
Ugh.
Patti didn’t say anything when I stumbled in, reeking like a brewery. She only looked relieved that I was home alive, and I felt guilty because I’d drunk way more than I should have even though there were no whisperers there. She pitied me for having to work, but I hadn’t been working. I’d just been partying.
I went to my room and flopped on my bed. The day weighed heavily on me. I wanted to cry or scream, but I couldn’t do either. I knew I should go to sleep, but I was wired and restless.
I pulled out my phone and called Marna. She answered right away.
“It’s five thirty a.m.”
“Sorry! I need Blake’s number,” I blurted.
She was quiet for a second and then sighed. “Very sneaky. I approve.” She recited the number and then hung up.
I dialed Blake, heart in my throat.
“Hello?” he said in his valley-boy voice. I could hear lots of voices in the background.
“Hey. It’s Anna. Is this a bad time?”
“Anna!” His voice lit up. “It’s a fine time. Just chillin’ with some friends.”
“Okay . . .” I totally clammed up. What was I supposed to say now? Give me the lowdown on Kaidan? Is he working? Is he okay?
“Let me guess,” Blake said. “You’re drinking and dialing.”
A loud laugh slipped out and I covered my mouth.
“That’s some dangerously cray-cray business right there,” he said.
“Yeah,” I admitted. The room spun a little as I lay back.
Blake was quiet a few seconds before saying, “He’s not here, by the way.”
“I know.” He was probably just arriving in L.A. I chewed my lip and curled up on my side, reluctant to say too much. Talking to Blake made me feel closer to Kai—that one degree of separation thing. “I just feel . . .”
“I know how you feel, girl. It’s all good. Everything’s fine.”
The thing about Blake was that he always sounded breezy and light, but I could sense seriousness in his words.
Loud, girly laughter erupted from his end of the phone and Blake laughed, too, covering the phone and saying something to the girls who were trying to talk to him.