Part 18 (1/2)

”What?”

”The point. What's the point here?”

”Right. Anyway, the Colombian drug lord obsessed with Skye was sick with jealousy about her love for Dante. So he kidnapped Dante. Oh, it was brutal to watch. The hostage situation went on for days and days while Skye's brother and police chief captain, Felix Caulfield, tried to negotiate both their safe returns. Then there was this huge rescue attempt, which totally failed. It was one of those scenes like right out of a horror movie, where you're screaming, *Don't go down in the bas.e.m.e.nt, dummy!' What a botched job that was-everyone ended up dead and Felix was left in a coma. Oh. It was so ugly. Anyway, Dante told Skye he'd rather die than let her marry that swine Carlo Gonzales.”

”And how, in your pretty little head, does this situation even remotely resemble Colombian drug lords, sacrificial marriages, and shootings?”

”Well, first there's your pride. I think your pride is a little wounded because I'm the one doing the saving. You're not used to disruption in your quiet life, but if there is one, you like to believe you should be the one to handle it. And then there's what Dante said to Skye when she told him she was going to go through with it to save his life.”

”Pray tell, what did Dante say, Phoebe?” he asked, not bothering to hide his sarcasm.

”Exactly the same thing you did.”

He c.o.c.ked an eyebrow, his lips flirting with an amused smile. ”Which was?”

”The word no. Well, it was more than no. It was a sort of don't-you-dare kind of thing.”

”So let me guess: Against his express wishes, Skye married Carlo to keep Dante alive and, in the process, managed to spite him, too?”

”You bet your undead a.s.s she did.” Phoebe strolled out of the room to the tune of Sam's growl.

She was a vampire. It was more ammunition than poor Alice Goodwin had been equipped with when she'd gone into this clinical trial.

And she had teleportation on her side. If something went wrong, she'd just zap herself out.

She sent a silent prayer up that if she did have to zap herself out-she wouldn't land in like Botswana. Or G.o.d forbid, The Cheesecake Factory.

f.u.c.k. That would be a real slap in her blueberry-cheesecake-lovin' kisser.

”HAVE I said I don't like this?” Sam ground out as they gathered one street over from Dr. Hornstein's.

Phoebe pulled her arm from Sam's with a hard yank and tucked her hair back up under her red beret, straightening it and her large black purse, which held the forms they needed to get her into the clinical trial. ”I only have so many fingers and toes. I've lost track of the number of times you've said you don't like this, Sam.”

”Last count was twenty-two and a f.u.c.king half in less than thirty minutes. You stopped him cold midsentence last round of Phoebe v Sam,” Nina said, slapping Sam on the back with a laugh. The sharp crack of her hand against his leather jacket made Phoebe's ears ring.

”Dude, look. I don't like it any more than you do. But she's only handing over the forms to the doc for right now. It's not like they're going to throw her in some van and kidnap her. It's a doctor's office-in f.u.c.king Manhattan at rush hour. No way they can get her out of here without us seeing it. She'll be fine. And FYI, it's only five o'clock. I don't get up until at least seven for anybody. Which means I'm p.i.s.sy. Know why? Here's why. I was up half the night listening to you two get your humpback beast on. That makes me cranky. Count yourself among the G.o.dd.a.m.n lucky I don't need as much vampire sleep as I used to. So shut up, for s.h.i.+t's sake. Let Phoebe do her thing, and we'll all go home after she's done and plot our next move to take over the world with some blood in those fancy gla.s.ses Arch likes so much.”

Sam's lips thinned for the second time in less than twenty minutes. Phoebe had discovered this was a sure sign he was losing his patience. He didn't do it often. So when he did, it meant something.

He ran a hand over the brim of his black Stetson. ”I really think you should bring someone in with you, honey.” His words held a plea to them, and he'd softened them in order to get her to do what he wanted her to do.

She fought to maintain her stance. Um, no. This was their one shot. She was taking it.

Phoebe's head c.o.c.ked. She crossed her arms over her chest, folding her gloved hands in the crooks of her arm. ”Bring who in with me? You mean like you, Mr. Hot for the Head Nurse? How will we explain that to the woman you made a move on just so you could get Alice Goodwin's files?”

Sam's head dipped in impatience and he sucked his cheeks in so hard he created deep caverns on either side of his mouth. ”Okay. Then take Nina,” he growled.

Phoebe rolled her eyes and pushed past Sam to make a break for it, but he stopped her. In frustration, she yelped, ”No! No one else is exposed to this. We can't afford to have anyone else a.s.sociated with this mess. They think I don't have any family. You don't suppose Buys Clothes at the Five and Dime Barbie can get away with saying she's my friend, do you? We look too much alike, Sam.”

Nina snorted and made a face. ”Please. We do not either look anything alike. I'd f.u.c.king rather be Marty than look like you, princess.”

Darnell spoke for the first time. His round face was full of devilish glee when he gave Nina a shoulder b.u.mp. ”I dunno, Nina. I think y'all look a lot alike. Only difference is Miss Phoebe's got red hair and a nicer tongue. Oh, some blue eyes, too. She's like Nina-light.”

Phoebe clapped her hands together in finality, smiling in Darnell's direction to thank him for his support. ”And there you have it. We're like twins, Nina. Love it. Now, I'm going in. I'm going to hand over the clinical trial forms, talk to Dr. Hornstein, and come right back out. Forty-five minutes-an hour tops. Can you go on existing that long without me, Sam, or do you want me to text you kissy faces so you know I still like you?”

Sam grabbed her by her upper arms and forced her to look up at him. His handsome face was semi-hidden under his black Stetson, but she knew beneath that brim were worried eyes. And an odd sort of urgency that wasn't like Sam at all ... ”Knock it off, Phoebe, and pay close attention. Any sign of anything out of the ordinary, even a hint of suspicion, and you get the h.e.l.l out. Got that? Use whatever form of the getting you have to in order to do it. Or I'll blow this whole ridiculous sting thing wide open by rus.h.i.+ng the place.”

Phoebe relaxed in his tight hold. ”Again, thank you, Jack Bauer slash buddies with bugs. Now go somewhere that's not here, and quit worrying.”

Lines of concern wreathed Sam's face. ”Do you have your phone?”

”I do. And my Mace, for those sticky occasions like when a human tries to take on a vampire.”

”Sarcasm. Not lovin' it right now.” He glared down at her to show her how little he loved it.

For a moment, Phoebe paused and really listened to the urgency in Sam's voice. She was getting better and better at learning how to use her ability to sense emotions. For instance, much like she had back at Alice Goodwin's apartment, she knew Nina was worried for her. How deep that went was another story entirely, but it was there.

But Sam's tone didn't just display worry-it was something more. Something she couldn't put her finger on. So she decided to ease up with the taunting. ”Look, Sam. I promise to be careful. I have my phone, and if I need you, you'll know. Plus, if things get really hairy, I'll do what Darnell taught me and picture him in my mind. He'll appear out of nowhere in his white whip like the knight in s.h.i.+ning Nikes he is, and all will be well. But please let me do this without worrying about anything but getting it done. I don't want to go in anxious and freaked out if there's no need for it. You're only making this worse with your fretting. Look, the clock is ticking. We have no idea how long we have left to live. Let me try and find out. Please.”

Scooping her up, Sam placed his lips on hers and left a hard kiss on her mouth, one that caught her by surprise but melted her just as if they were alone and not about to embark on some potentially dangerous shenanigans.

Nina poked her face between them. ”Hey, vampires two point O-lay off the f.u.c.king canoodling and let's get 'er done. You'll be late for your appointment if you don't move your fat a.s.s, Phoebe.”

Sam let her go with obvious reluctance, dropping her to the ground with a caveman grunt of displeasure.

Phoebe threaded her fingers through his and gave them one last squeeze before letting go. She had to hope he understood that this simple form of communication between them meant something. To her. To her heart. That she wanted to come back to him in just the way she'd left him-because that meant they could continue this exploration thing. Today, she'd discovered, she wanted that almost as much as she wanted to find acceptance with Nina.

Sam held up his hand to his ear and made a sign for the phone to signal she should call him, his face grim.

Phoebe nodded her consent.

Just as she tried to slip past Darnell, he gave her a bear hug, thumping her on the back with his large pawlike hand and whispering, ”You be safe now. You need me, member what I tol' ya. Just think me up. Picture my ugly ol' puss in yo head. I'll be there, a'iiight?”

Phoebe cupped his jaw and gave it a quick pinch as he let her drop back to the ground. ”A'iiight.”

As she swept past her sister, Nina clamped a firm hand down on her shoulder, her fingers trembling ever so slightly before she let go, giving Phoebe a shove in the direction of the doctor's office.

Without another word, she moved down the sidewalk at a rapid pace, remembering Nina's advice to keep her feet in time with the flow of other people's footsteps so as not to arouse suspicion.

At the door of the gla.s.s building that held Dr. Hornstein's office, she paused, taking in her ridiculously orange spray tan against the deep red of her wrap coat.

She saw the fear in her eyes; the protective eyewear couldn't hide it, and she had to remind herself once again that she was only dropping off some forms. No big thang.

Before she'd settled on personal stylist as her bread and b.u.t.ter, she'd dreamed the dream most young girls do. She was going to run away to Hollywood and become a famous actress on Saved by the Bell. Mario Lopez, of course, was going to be her on- and off-screen husband.

She'd done a school play or two in her time. Okay, so she didn't exactly get the part of Sandy in Grease-but girl walking the high school halls, carrying her binder with purpose, as she'd been billed, was acting, too.

She could do this. She could fake her way through this. She certainly could summon up the terror of her now distant diagnosis with no trouble at all. She could remember the agony her mother had suffered at the very hands of the same disease Phoebe had once thought was going to be her death sentence as well.

If she recalled the horror of her mother's illness, then finding out she, too, had the same disease, she'd put method actresses across the land to shame.