In the Worst Way (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book 5) (58 page)

Bridget gazed down at me calmly. “You have to. You’re my maid of honor.”
 

With that, she slammed the door.
 

Chapter Twenty-Six

SO HERE’S THE thing. The maids did not come after two hours. They did not come at noon either. I screamed until I was hoarse for all the good it did me. The Troublesome Trio left Pick in the room and I tried to get him to howl, alerting the staff that something was amiss. Instead, that worthless poodle sniffed at the door and then lay down in front of it blocking all of my light.
 

Screaming really wears a person out and, at some point, I went to sleep. I woke up when Pick moved and let light flood under the door. He yipped and then I heard something. Maybe a door opening. Then a zing of fear went through me. What if it was Flincher? Or another assassin. Dad could be wrong. He screwed up the security at the Bled Mansion.
 

The closet doorknob creaked and I bit my lip. The door opened and I was blinded by light. I blinked like crazy up at a tall form leaning over me.
 

“I should’ve known,” said a warm, familiar voice. It couldn’t be. Not possible.
 

I kept blinking and my eyes adjusted slowly.
 

“Have you got anything to say for yourself?”
 

“I…” I whispered. My voice was shot.
 

“You can’t talk,” he said. “This is working out for me just fine.”
 

I blinked furiously and Chuck, my Chuck, came into focus. He wore a shiny track suit and a heavy gold chain around his neck. His hair had grown out and looked like it’d been slicked back with Brylcreem. In short, he looked terrible, weird and terrible. I was so happy to see him, I blubbered and then burst into the ugly cry, sounding just like Sorcha at her worst.
 

“Where…have…the…maids…”

“Oh, the maids were supposed to let you out.” Chuck hauled me out of the closet and laid me on the bed. “I heard they’re working on your last bedroom. Something about feathers.”
 

Dammit, Pick!

As if he could sense my thoughts, the poodle jumped on the bed and licked me on the lips. Yuck. Chuck leaned on the bedpost and grinned at me. “So it wasn’t just a ploy to get me to come back. There really was a murder in a gothic castle in the middle of the night.”
 

“Uh-huh,” I squeaked out. “Can you?” I wiggled my wrists.
 

“No, I don’t think I will,” he said running his fingers through his greasy hair. “You and I have to have a talk.”
 

I tried to sit up and failed. “About what?”
 

“Us.”
 

“Hmm…there’s an us?” I asked, batting my eyelashes.
 

Chuck’s blue eyes darkened. “There better be or I’m throwing you back in that closet. It’s you and me together or I’m done.”
 

“You already said you were done.” I don’t know why I said that. I did not want him to remember that.

“That was before you begged me to come back,” he said.

I glared at him. “I didn’t beg you to do anything.”

“Now we both know that’s not true.” He bent over, taking me by the shoulders. “How much did you miss me?”
 

I looked away. “I might’ve missed you. A bit. Let’s not go overboard.”
 

“I got all your texts. All 232 of them.”
 

“I was keeping you up-to-date.”
 

“About you. Because you missed me so bad you couldn’t stand it.”
 

“Perhaps.”
 

His lips brushed mine and I blushed.
 

“What about Pete?” asked Chuck. “Is that over?”
 

I nodded like a bobblehead. “Very.”
 

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

“I wouldn’t say n—” And he kissed me. Nothing mattered. Not that I was covered in duct tape or that a poodle with hideous breath was licking my hair. Nothing. Kissing was the only thing I wanted and then it was over.
 

“Don’t stop,” I whispered.
 

Chuck tapped the duct tape covering my wrists. “It’s going to be hard to take off your top if you’re taped.”
 

“You’re going to take off my top?”
 

“Do you want me to?”
 

“Okay.”
 

Chuck had to borrow a pair of scissors from the maids that finally showed up and, even with their help, it took a half hour to get me untaped. The maids took the huge tape ball with them and were persuaded by Chuck’s charm to take Pick out for a walk. He closed the door and I said, “You and me.”
 

“Together? None of this cousins and we’re gross stuff.”
 

“We’re not really cousins.” I barely got it out. I sounded like Kathleen Turner with vocal cord damage.
 

“I like the sexy voice.”
 

“I hate that track suit. Can we burn it?” I asked.
 

“Then I’d be naked.” Chuck grinned at me.
 

I mirrored his grin with my own. “Works for me.”

Three hours and a shower later, Pick was back on our bed, snoring with his paws in the air. Chuck traced my ribs with his finger. “Didn’t use to be this way.”
 

“Puhlease. He always snored. The vet says he has a septum issue,” I said.
 

“I mean this.” He flicked me in the rib.
 

“Ouch. What was that for?”
 

“Lettuce.” He flicked me again.
 

“Stop it, you freak.”
 

Another flick. “And carrots.”
 

I smacked his hand.
 

“Green smoothies that taste like crap.” Flick. Flick.

“I will beat you to death.” I flipped over and sat on his chest.
 

“Oh you will, will you?” he asked.
 

I put my nose in the air. “I’m tough. I chase homicidal maniacs through dangerous rapids and save teenaged girls.”
 

Chuck snorted. “He was trying to kill a sixteen-year-old girl and failed at that. He was a wussy.”
 

“You weasel!” I pummeled him with an embroidered pillow until he gave up.
 

“Alright. Alright. This Tim guy was one tough bastard and you brought him down with one hand tied behind your back.”
 

I whacked him one more time for good measure. “That’s right.” Then I collapsed next to him and closed my eyes. “I wish we could stay.”
 

“I think we should,” Chuck said.
 

“What about work?”
 

“I’m off for the next week. I’m supposed to see a therapist to make sure I’m adjusting after the assignment, but that’s it.”
 

“Will you go?” I asked.
 

He cupped my cheek. “Of course. Are you going to eat?”
 

“I already am.”
 

“Good.”
 

I reluctantly sat up. “But we can’t stay. There’s too much going on. I’m expected by The Girls.” I looked at Chuck’s lean body. “Besides there’s a mortician around here that would love to get a hold of you.”
 

“What do you mean by that?”
 

“It’s a long story.”
 

He coiled an arm around my waist and kissed my ear. “One more day. The parents won’t mind. Now that you’re in the clear and the Troublesome Trio are gone you can enjoy the castle.”
 

I got up and slipped a sundress over my head. “Maybe. I’ll call Mom for an update. Are you hungry? I’m starving. Let’s see what Aaron’s cooking. I hope it’s something with butter.”
 

Chuck laughed. “It’s always something with butter.”
 

I went in the bathroom and combed the snarls out of my hair. I had curls in all the wrong places. Headband. Definitely. Some music sounded in the bedroom, “Danger Zone” from
Top Gun
.
 

Please don’t be work. No work. No work.

“Who’s that?” I asked.
 

Chuck didn’t answer and my stomach tightened. I stepped out and found him standing in the middle of the room wearing his favorite jeans and holding his phone like he’d never seen it before.
 

“Chuck?”
 

He looked up. “It’s your dad.”
 

“‘Danger Zone’? That’s funny.”
 

“Hm…I don’t know how to tell you this.”
 

The smile fell off my face. “What?”
 

“Lester died.” He walked across the room and pulled me to his chest.
 

Died. He’s not supposed to die. Not yet.
 

“I didn’t even know he was sick,” said Chuck.
 

“He wasn’t,” I whispered.
 

“He was incredibly old.”
 

I nodded, unable to speak.
 

“We’ll leave right now. Okay?”
 

I nodded.
 

He sat me on the bed and packed up the rest of my stuff. “How well did you know him? I know he’s worked for The Girls forever, but my mom has a gardener and I don’t know him at all.”
 

“He went with us on some of our trips,” I managed to get out.
 

“Really? I didn’t know that.”
 

I smiled wanly. “The Girls would sometimes go out to restaurants that I couldn’t go to and Lester would stay with me. We’d play checkers. He really loved checkers.”
 

Chuck gathered all my stuff and put the luggage outside the door. “You did not pack all this stuff. Let me guess. Your mom did it.”
 

I nodded.
 

“I’ll call your crew. They’ll want to come.”
 

Uncle Morty marched in with his laptop bag, smelling like a cross between a men’s locker room and antiseptic wipes. Dr. Watts had been working on him. “Hell yeah, we’re coming. What’s taking so long? Let’s move.”
 

“We’re ready,” I said.
 

He looked between me and Chuck. “So it’s finally happened. About time. Does he know?”
 

“Know what?” asked Chuck.
 

“That Lester was murdered,” I said.
 

Chuck didn’t pause to take it in. No hesitation whatsoever. He called the front desk, ordered his car to be brought around, and asked about Aaron and Tiny. Aaron was coming up from the kitchens and Tiny was getting dressed after a massage. Chuck picked me up off the bed and carried me through the castle with Pick following close behind.
 

We went out the front door and I saw his car, a brand new Mustang in ice blue. “When did you get that?” I asked.
 

“Yesterday. Like it?” Chuck asked.
 

“Gorgeous, but the guys aren’t fitting in there.”
 

He looked at his car with adoration. “John, you got a car Morty can borrow?”

John stepped out of the shadows and Pick hid behind us, whining. I hadn’t seen John there, but nothing got by Chuck. “Will a Mercedes coupe do?”
 

Morty walked up beside us. “What color is it?”
 

“Does that really matter?” I asked.
 

“Aesthetics matter.”
 

I rolled my eyes. “Says the guy who wore the same smelly sweats for days.”
 

“I suffer for my art. What color?” asked Uncle Morty.