Rest For The Wicked by Cate Dean

Author:Cate Dean [Dean, Cate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: novels
Publisher: Pentam Press
Published: 2012-04-16T04:00:00+00:00

*

Annie spotted Eric walking on Beach Street, head down, not paying attention to the people who jumped out of his path.

She caught up to him, matching his pace until he finally looked at her.

“Hey, handsome—going my way?” He gave her a smile. A little one, but it was a start. “I’m off to meet Claire, coax her into having dinner. Want to—” He flinched at the mention of Claire’s name, all the color draining out of his face. Annie herded him to the side wall of the art gallery. “Hey, it’s okay, Eric. She doesn’t blame you for what happened.”

“I can’t stop blaming myself.” Wind whipped off the ocean behind them, tossing sweat matted, sun streaked hair against his forehead. Annie reached out to brush it back. He lurched backward, hitting up against the wall. She just kept moving until she made contact. Eric closed his eyes when she touched him, swallowed convulsively. “Don’t.”

“Come with me, Eric. There’s nothing worse than the anticipation of rejection. And trust me, you won’t be getting any of that from her.” She took his hand. “Come on.”

He followed her around the corner, heading toward Claire’s store.

“You don’t take no for an answer very often, do you?”

She smiled over at him.

“Nope.”

Her reward was his laugh. Rusty, quiet, but a laugh. She planned to get more out of him before the end of the night. He didn’t remember much about her, so she was going to help him make new memories. Happier memories.

Light filtered out of the front window of The Wiche’s Broom. Claire probably had a customer she couldn’t get rid of—always too polite to just shove them out the door at closing time. I’ll give her a hand with that—

The door was locked.

“What the—” Claire never locked the door when she was expecting Annie. Never. Annie peered through the window, her heart pounding—and saw nothing. No Claire, no customer, no one at all. “Oh, God—” She fumbled the spare key out of her purse, started to push it into the lock.

“Let me.” She jumped when Eric touched her shoulder. In her panic she’d forgotten about him. “Stay behind me until we know what’s going on. Okay?”

She thrust the key at him. “Just get in there.”

He obeyed, unlocked the door. The small bell rang when he opened it—then the door hit up against an obstacle.

“Claire—” Annie whirled around the door, halted when she saw the sprawled figure—and recognized the black clothing, the dark, curling hair. “What the hell?”

They both knelt. Eric eased Marcus on to his back. Blood stained his face, matted his hair. The fingers of his bandaged right hand were twisted, like they’d been slammed hard against a wall. Looking up, Annie saw where he hit. The plaster was cracked, blood dripping down the pale yellow wall.

“He’s alive,” Eric said. “Is there water here, a blanket?”

Annie slung her purse off her shoulder and stood, ran shaking fingers through her hair.

“Water—yeah, in the back. A blanket—what are you, a doctor?”

“Something like that. See if you can find a first aid kit—check under the counter.

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