Adam swears under his breath. At least I’m finally getting through to him.
I look up to find him staring out the window. “So you’ll help? We can make a deal? My patents for your laboratories?”
For another long moment, Adam’s silent.
When he finally does start to speak, it’s not the simple yes I’m expecting.
“Do you know when I first met you, I liked you a lot,” he says. “I thought you were ‘of the earth.’ That was the gracious term my mother used for people like you. The unfortunate poor.”
I grind my teeth. You need him. You can put up with his elitist bullshit meanderings for a few minutes and then you’ll be out of here.
“But then I got to know you. And that’s when I realized you didn’t know your place. You were too big for your own britches.” My fists clench but I stay quiet as he continues. “We could have been a team from the beginning. Unstoppable. Your research skills. My charisma and connections.”
He finally turns from the window and looks at me. “But you just wouldn’t play ball, would you? It was your arrogance. You just had to have your name on everything. You had to have all the praise and adulation.”
Is he fucking serious? This is literally the guy who plasters his name on every single fucking thing he can. He can’t blame it on his dad, either. I know it’s been him who’s pushed to have the Civic Center renamed the Adam Archer Civic Center after donating fifty million to have it renovated.
You need the labs. It’s Daphne’s life.
So I stay quiet in spite of my seething anger. I knew this wouldn’t be easy. But does this asshole have to make it so damn hard?
“Making me look like a fool in front of Dr. Laurel all the time. Even in front of that dumb, scrawny little kid of his.” Adam shakes his head and walks over to a cabinet. Why am I not shocked when he opens it to display a hidden liquor cabinet. “But he’s gone now.”
He pours some expensive looking bourbon and then downs it.
“I tried getting rid of you.” He shakes his head. “But they always say the roaches will survive the apocalypse. I guess street rats are the same.” He pours himself more bourbon and smiles my direction, holding up the glass in cheers.
“And now, well, if there is a disease that’s going to rid the world of that little bitch, Daphne, what can I say?” Adam shrugs his shoulders dramatically. “It’s just natural selection at work, man.”
I’m going to fucking kill him.
I’m across the room with my hands around his neck before I’m fully aware of what I’m doing. Two seconds later, an alarm is going off and security guards are charging into the room and pulling me off him.
“You’re dead!” I shout at him. “If you come near her, I’ll—”
But a blow by the huge security guard from downstairs cuts off my words.
Pain explodes across my face, and then the world goes dark.
Fourteen
Daphne
I didn’t think anything of it when Logan said he was going out. He doesn’t go out often, but sometimes we need groceries or the like. And he said he’d be right back.
I was a little worried when I didn’t hear from him after a few hours. He usually texts or calls if he’s running late. So when I finally heard my cell ring, the anxiety I had been feeling finally calms.
Until I saw it was Armand calling, not Logan. Only to pick up the call and find it was Armand calling about Logan.
Because Logan was in jail!
I push my wheelchair to maximum speed as Armand holds open the door to the County Sheriff’s office.
I race my chair right up to the counter. “I’m here for Logan Wulfe.”
Sitting in the chair, I can barely see over the counter to make out the face of the woman attending the front desk.
I start to wobbly climb out of the chair when Armand puts a hand on my shoulder.
“Can she go see my client while I work out the details of his release?”
“You a lawyer?” the woman asks.
Armand leans in and smiles coyly. “Something like that.”
The woman, who looks to be in her early fifties, and has a face that reminds me of a bulldog, immediately softens under Armand’s charms. “All right, but it’s a hell of an expensive bail. Quarter mill.”
Armand doesn’t flinch. “Money is no object for my client.”
The woman’s eyes brighten and I want to gag. “Where is Logan? Can I see him now?”
“Marv!” the woman rears back and yells. Even Armand winces at her ear-splitting volume, though he smiles through it.
An older Hispanic man in uniform ambles around the corner. “Take this one back for visiting hours with the new one. With the—” the woman makes a face and gestures at her left cheek. Like she has any room to comment on someone’s appearance. Besides, Logan’s gorgeous. If this stupid cow can’t look past a little scarring to see that, then she’s—
“This way, Miss,” Marv says, gesturing me to follow behind him.
He leads me to a large room with empty tables that reminds me of a hospital cafeteria. It’s empty apart from Marv and me.
But about five minutes later, the door cracks open and then an attendant leads Logan in. His hands are cuffed behind his back and I can’t hide the noise of distress that comes from the back of my throat.
I reach for the controls of my wheelchair to go to him, but Marv puts a hand out to stay my action. “No contact,” he says kindly. “Otherwise they’ll send him back.”
I yank my hand back from my controls. I can’t stand the thought of getting this close to him and them sending him away again.
“Are you okay?” I call.
His eyes are stormy as he gets closer. “You shouldn’t be here. What are you doing out of the house? You aren’t strong enough—”
“Don’t you dare tell me what I’m strong enough for, Logan Wulfe. Now tell me right this second what’s going on. How did you get here? What happened?”
He sinks down heavily in the chair across from me. The attendant undoes the cuffs at his back but warns again about no contact.
When Logan’s eyes come to me, they are so full of remorse.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, sounding broken. “I failed you.”
Oh my gosh, he’s killing me. “Logan, tell me what’s going on, right this second. I’m freaking out.”
So he does. He tells me all of it. About how we have to synthesize the drug for it to really be an effective solution for me. About how we needed Belladonna’s labs. How we needed Adam.
And how Adam wouldn’t help.
How Adam sees this as his final act of revenge…
Me dying.
Logan didn’t put it that way, but I can finally read between the lines. I can finally see Adam for the monster Logan always said he was.
Logan’s no fool. He can see what I’ve just figured out.
“But we’re not going to let that happen,” he says adamantly. “We’ll find another way. There’s always something else we can do. We’ll find a way to manufacture enough doses for you, even if we can’t synthesize it on a large scale in the beginning, I swear I’ll save you—”