➵ Chapter 52-2

"An hour." The click-clack of the keys under his fingers made me want to scream. "Eric?" "Hm?" "Can you not do that?" "It's not that loud." He knew what I meant without asking for clarification and pulled his hands away from the keyboard. "Do you have a hangover or something?" "I'm afraid so." "I'll get you the Cure." The Cure was a drink that Eric had created for the sole purpose of remedying hangovers. It had taken him three years to perfect his recipe before he had it patented. The concoction would make the previous night's lingering effects vanish within the hour. But the taste of it was enough to make me avoid it at all costs. "No." "I brought some extra vials with me." "Why?" I asked, suddenly concerned. As hypocritical as it was, the last thing I wanted was Eric drinking. He always ended up sick before he could get through a single glass. My voice took on the tone of a parent that was scolding a petulant child. "Are you planning on getting drunk?" "No, but you have a tendency to get drunk when you're upset. I had a feeling you were going to be upset here. Do you want it?" "Eric, that stuff is disgusting." "Don't be a baby. It tastes like a smoothie." I scrunched up my face for effect. "A smoothie made of wheatgrass and animal feces." His broad shoulders slouched and he stuck out his bottom lip in a pout that I was sure anybody would give in to. "But I brought it for you." "Are you trying to manipulate me?" "Yes. Did it work?" "Give it." He pecked me on the cheek before leaning over the side of the bed, he searched through a duffle and pulled it out. A small glass vial filled with a shot's worth of mossy green liquid. "It'll help. I promise." "I know, I need another favor." "What did you do this time?" I might have been offended by the implication if it had been anybody but him. "I gave Detective Parker my lip print. He's going to match it to my card." "I already tampered with those results. I was waiting for them to run that as soon as they arrested you." I pulled off the cork and drank the Cure in one gulp. The rancid taste burned its way down my throat. "Blah!" I shuddered before speaking again. "You knew?" "Yes. Don't worry." "Thanks, Eric." Eric looked down at his laptop, suddenly worried. He was chewing his lip, staring at the screen. The wallpaper was a photograph of him and Hannah clad in I ♥ NY gear, standing in front of the Statue of Liberty like a couple of tourists. "We'll get you back home," I said to him. "I promise." "You told Anna the same thing." I flinched. The words felt as if they were picking at an old scab that wasn't quite yet healed. It might've hurt less if he'd stabbed me. Eric didn't notice. He hadn't meant any harm by what he'd said. All he'd done was speak the truth like he always did. And he was right. I had broken my promise to Anna. Why should anything I said bring him solace? As far as he knew, my words could've been empty. After a few minutes of silence, he poked me in the side. "Are you going to kill him, Lia?" "Yes." "But you're good. You don't like killing people." "He's not a person, Eric. He's a monster. And it isn't as if I've got a choice. The only way to get rid of the hit on me is to get rid of the man that's funding it." Eric set down the laptop, looking down at me before he pulled me into a hug. "What am I supposed to do if you get hurt? You're my best friend." I closed my eyes, leaning into him. He smelled of blueberries and chocolate. "Stop worrying. I'm going to be okay." "I love you." "I love you too." Somebody banged on the door and he jumped. I got out the bed and caught the handgun he tossed me, looking at it in undisguised distaste before hurrying toward the door. It was flung open, banging against the wall. The sound didn't bother me too much - my hangover had already begun to ebb away. I raised my gun, aiming it at the intruder. Logan frowned at it, looking at it the same way I had. "Taking pointers from your boyfriend?" Logan wore a navy blue baseball cap over his blond hair and a muscle shirt, looking like any other civilian dressed for the warm weather. A backpack was slung over his shoulder, no doubt filled to the brim with weapons. I'd expected Elaine to arrive with him, but strangely, he'd arrived alone. "It's Eric's piece. Didn't exactly have time to get my bow. And it'd be easier to explain a gun if you turned out to be a maid." "Maybe point that thing away from my face." "Maybe wait after you knock instead of barging in." But I did lower my gun and strode back to the bed, clicking on the safety before I handed it over to Eric. "Where's Polk?" "Cuba," he said, as if I were dimwitted. "Where in Cuba?" "Oh, I haven't the slightest idea. But I do know someone who does know." "Who?" "Matthias Young. Though he won't tell you willingly." "You want me to kidnap him." He grinned. "Ever steal a person, Lia?"