How to be Found by Emily Pohl-Weary

Author:Emily Pohl-Weary
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Arsenal Pulp Press

CHAPTER 11 Cultivating True Accomplices

My heart pounded erratically, and my ribs, elbow, and thigh throbbed. When I sucked in a deep breath, I gagged at the hideous stench inside the dumpster. My left hand was resting on something wet—a rotting lemon rind from the bar’s garbage. Disgusting. I tried to wipe it on some cardboard and struggled to sit up. Anwar lay nearby, face down in a plastic bag.

“Shit!” I clawed my way toward him, across oozing plastic bags and empty bottles of cleaning supplies. My knee went down on something sharp that tore through my stockings and sliced my knee open. For some reason, seeing blood made my other aches soar to life even more intensely. My shoulders ached, and my scalp stung.

As soon as I reached Anwar, I grabbed his shoulder and heaved him over onto his back. “Please be alive. Please …”

Confusion flitted across his face. He looked a little dazed, but he pushed himself up, then groaned, fell back down, and grabbed his ribs. Impulsively, I titled his face toward mine and kissed him. My puffy lip got in the way, but it made him stop grimacing.

He grinned crookedly. “If I pretend to be dead, will you do that again?”

“Shut it.”

There was a smear of blood on his bottom lip, and his eye was swollen. I cleaned his mouth with my top and somehow found myself kissing him again, harder this time, ignoring the pain in my lip. What was going on with me? We needed to get out of here.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, sounding a little breathless.

“Not sure. Jellybean blames me for the police ransacking his club, but they were the ones telling me things I didn’t know. Must’ve come here after questioning everyone today.” I lurched to my feet and searched for a steady foothold so I could stagger over the side. “Talking to Trissa’s co-workers was my only hope for a lead. They won’t answer questions now.”

Anwar tried again to stand up and clutched his ribs. “Maybe the cops searched the club because they learned something new. You could call and ask?”

“The less I hear from those assholes, the better. But we should get out of this garbage heap before that bartender comes out and tosses more on top of us. He’d probably enjoy that.” Bracing myself on the solid steel wall, I reached down with one hand. “Let me help you stand. Try not to use your abs because your ribs might be cracked.”

“Just bruised,” he said confidently. “It feels exactly like that time I got injured sparring in judo. This kid gave me a flying kick to the chest, and I went down like a pancake.” He lifted his arms but kept his torso stiff.

I dug my heels into a wet box that crumpled and sagged but allowed me to gain a stable enough footing to heave Anwar upward. He teetered for a second, then gripped the dumpster’s side, panting from the pain.

“Think you can climb?” I asked.

He whimpered.

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