A hand clamps around my mouth. I twist to see …
Roy? Seriously?
I fight halfheartedly at first. I’m not alarmed, just pissed off, wondering what the hell happened to Jen. Then Roy slams his fist into my gut so fast and so hard that I double over, gasping in shock and pain. His hand goes over my mouth again, and he hauls me away as I struggle to catch my breath.
When I finally come to my senses, I lash out with fists and feet. He hits me in the side of the head. The world dips into blackness, and I stagger. He grabs the back of my jacket and hauls me upright.
“I paid,” he snarls as he keeps dragging me. “I paid a fortune to get here, and I am not leaving. You drugged me. I know you did. You wanted me gone, and you put those mushrooms in my wine to give the council a reason to kick me out.”
He’s caught me off guard—how the hell did I let this asshole catch me off guard?—and I’m still reeling from that blow. I need to focus. My gun’s in its holster, right under my jacket. I’m fine. I just have to get back to Diana and Paul before this all goes to hell.
Goddamn it, Diana. I cannot trust you, and I’m a fool for thinking I can.
I let myself go limp. Until now I’ve been scuttling along as he drags me. When I let my knees give way, he staggers backward. I close my eyes, as if I passed out.
He curses and drops me. I play dead … or unconscious, at least, lying on the ground like a rag doll. He grabs me by the jacket. Then he stops, and I don’t have to open my eyes to know what’s stopped him. My holster. He sees it. And he sees it’s empty.
I swing into the back of his knee. His leg folds, and I give him a shove. He punches at me. I kick him. Then as he’s falling, I slam my fist into his stomach. That’s petty and unprofessional, and I don’t give a damn. With my gun in my left hand, I plow my right fist into his stomach. He doubles over, and I put him down, flat on his back. Then I point the gun at him.
When he starts to rise, I say, “It’s only you and me out here, Roy. Give me an excuse. Please.”
He pauses and then lies down.
“Hands over your head,” I say.
I see movement to my left as Dalton jogs over. I hand him the cuff strap. “Can you take over here? I have no idea what happened to Jen, who was supposed to be guarding his ass.”
“He locked her in the bathroom,” Dalton says.
I stare at him.
He shrugs. “She went in to get a razor and help him shave. He jammed the doorknob. She escaped out the window and found me. She’s fine. Just pissed off.” He looks around. “Where’s Diana?”
“Don’t ask. Just…” I look at Roy.
“You go. I’ll cuff him and catch up.”
FORTY-SEVEN
As I’m jogging back to where I left Diana and Paul, I hear a shout. A scuffle. A yelp.
Goddamn it, Diana!
I race over to find Diana on the ground, pinned there by …
“Jen?” I say.
Jen looks up from securing Diana, who is spitting curses. “She was cutting a deal with Paul. I was out looking for Roy, and I heard them. Paul’s your killer. Diana here was blackmailing him.”
“As I was supposed to,” Diana snaps. “That was Casey’s plan. Which you just fucked up.”
“I—” Jen begins.
“She tried to go after Paul,” Diana says. “He bolted. She decided I was a fine substitute and let your actual killer go.”
“Which way?” I say.
Diana rises, giving Jen a shove and a glare as she does. Then she takes off, waving me to follow.