All without the expectation of compensation. No negotiation. Nada.
They just did.
And it was hard to stop asking what they wanted, but after a week I started shoving the thought away. They didn’t want anything but for me to be healthy and happy.
That was the repayment.
It was weird and wonderful.
Bastian stood from his chair and I realized that nearly four hours had passed while I sorted and cleaned and started making notes on what I had to do.
“I’m going to run to the Starbucks. Anything?”
“Mm, yes. Iced mocha.”
“It’s forty degrees out?” Bastian lifted a brow.
“Your point?”
“Wouldn’t hot coffee be better?”
“My drink, my way.” I mockingly slammed my hand on the desk. “Please. Two sugars and a shot of hazelnut.”
Rolling his eyes, he grabbed a Post-it and wrote down my order. At the end he added cake pop, chocolate if possible.
Laughing, I shook my head and shooed him away. They knew me too well already.
I’d made some serious headway on the mess. If I could keep this momentum up, I would probably be able to start working on cases again as soon as Goodrun cleared me for crutches…and someone was willing to drive me.
Which, in the Manyunk house, was not a problem.
House. I giggled to myself. Nothing that had a den, a study, a library, a conservatory, a gourmet kitchen, fifteen bedrooms, and eighteen bathrooms could ever be called a house. But it was the best shortcut I’d come up with for where I was staying.
The door creaked open and I glanced at the time on my phone. “That was fast, Bastian. I didn’t expect you back—”
“Who’s Bastian?”
I snapped my head up and found Alain in the doorway.
“Who is Bastian.” This time it was a statement and not a question.
He stalked into the room, and slammed his hands down on the desk and leaned in. “Who the fuck is Bastian? Didn’t even wait for the paint to dry on that pussy, did you.”
“Alain,” I finally managed to hiss his name. “What are you doing here? You can’t be here.”
“I can be anywhere I want.” He stood and started to walk around the desk. “You’ve been avoiding me. Hiding out in that ridiculous house. Faking all this bullshit. Get up out of that chair and come home.”
“No,” I whispered, my throat closing around the word.
“No?” He laughed. “You don’t get to say no. I’m your husband, and you’re going to do what I tell you to. Stop faking and get out of that chair.”
“I’m not faking.” The words were choked.
“You are such a liar. You were always a liar, and you never understood how important it was that you just listen to me for your own good!”
Slowly, he made his way around the desk to where I was seated in the wheelchair, the smirk on his face was angry and insane.
“Did you get the abortion?”
“No.”
He snatched my shirt, and hoisted me out of the chair just a bit. “Why the hell not. Didn’t I tell you to? You need to. Get that parasite gone, bitch. Get it gone. I won’t take you back otherwise.”
“You’re not taking me back,” I ground out. “You’re not even supposed to be within a hundred feet of me. Let go and get out.”
“Or what, liar?” His face was twisted into a possessive, cruel smile. “I’ll give you this one chance to get up out of that chair and follow me out that door. And if you don’t, you’ll breathe your last.”
The sharp point of a knife pricked against the skin of my bruised rib. Gasping, I glanced down and found a huge Bowie knife in his hand.
“Alain!”
“Don’t try me, bitch,” he hissed. “Get up. Move. Now.”
Tears I couldn’t stop slipped out. “I can’t get up! I can’t walk! I have pins in my ankle, and I can’t walk on it yet!”
He grabbed my arm and yanked me up out of the chair. “Stand up!”
My desperate need to steady myself overrode the knowledge that I couldn’t stand on the foot, and put half my weight on the cast. I screamed in pain, and dropped to the floor while Alain didn’t lessen his grip at all. He wrenched my shoulder up and I screamed again.
“Put her down.”
Bastian was back.
Alain dropped me and self-preservation overrode everything, and I landed hard on my hand, wrenching my shoulder again. Another little scream escaped me.
“Who are you?”
“You are in violation of your restraining order, Alain Domingues. Get out of here, right now.”
“My wife is—”
“Your soon to be ex-wife is in the middle of divorce proceedings against you. Take your ass out of this office and out of this building. Before you make me take you out.”
“Is that a threat?”
Bastian folded his arms. “Yes.”
In a smooth motion neither of us expected, Alain swooped down and slipped the knife between my ribs.
I barely felt it.
Bastian leapt over the desk and full body tackled Alain, slamming his head against the wall. He grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him back away from the wall, then slammed him again. Then, Bastian’s fist flew up and nailed Alain in the eye. He threw him on the ground and straddled him.
Alain tried to buck him off, but every time he moved, Bastian punched him again. And finally, Bastian wrapped his hand over Alain’s face, pulled it up and slammed him hard against the tile flooring.
He went limp.
Bastian was back over to me and I slumped down to the ground. My hand fluttered at the knife handle, but the blood was making everything slippery.
“Don’t, don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t pull it out.”
“It hurts,” I managed. I couldn’t get air in to my lungs.
“I know, Paige, I know. Just hold on.” He had the phone to his ear. “Don’t pull it out, we don’t know what he hit in there.”
I looked at him, and squinted. His image swam before my eyes. “I don’t want to die. I’ve died too many times.”
…“Five!” Wren screamed, crying. “I had five! The most I’ve ever had! How could you?”
The dark cruel laughter came from somewhere deep inside the rocks around us. I couldn’t move my head, I couldn’t feel my arms or leg. I knew this was the fault of the person whose terrible laughter bubbled up.
“I can easily, Quilikrozh. Easily.”
She spun and stood from me at once. “Your evil really does know no bounds!”
“I am simply taking what is mine!”
“You can’t just kill her!”
“I will kill her over and over and over. I will kill all of you over and over, to keep our idiot brother from what he’s supposed to be doing.”
A red hot flaming blade lashed out, but there was nothing there to strike down. The laugh resonated again, but everything went dark…
…“No!” Wren screamed, wrapping her arms around me. “No! Not so soon! We haven’t found the others!”
The cruel laugh didn’t care…
…“Oh, God, Vana,” Lincoln whispered cradling my head as the last bit of gray covered my vision. “Don’t go, love, don’t go.”