Fangs for Nothing (The Fangover #2)(54)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Johnny cut him off because truthfully, he didn’t want to know where that statement was going. “Brian, can’t I at least buy you a drink for your help?”

But Brian shook his head. “Sorry, Richard is right. We need to take off. Since I only got your friend free, don’t worry about it.”

Hold up. “You’re not going to get me out of the cuffs?”

“Sorry, got to run.” Brian started to move away from the bar. Dick was already almost at the door.

“Can’t you at least leave me the pick?” he asked.

“No, this is custom-made. Look, I’ll catch up with you in an hour or so, okay? See ya.”

Then they were gone and Johnny was left staring at the door as it swung shut behind them. So he was no longer attached to Lizette, but he still had a metal bracelet on. He sighed.

Benny hung up his phone and said, “Saxon isn’t picking up.”

Johnny could have told him that. He’d been calling the guy all night and he hadn’t picked up. Lizette said something in French. Johnny was getting a headache. It was like his hangover was reappearing.

Maybe it was time to come clean. “Lizette, I have to tell you the truth. I don’t really speak French. I have no f**king idea what you’re saying. Or have been saying.”

It wasn’t that big of a deal, right? Just a minor fact he had forgotten to share with her.

“Uh!” She gasped in indignation. Then she threw her glass of wine in his face.

The cool liquid hit him before he could react, and Johnny blinked, droplets on his eyelashes blurring his vision. He licked his lips and found her taste in wine was too sweet for his liking.

“How dare you!”

Johnny wished he had a counter to keep track of how many times she had said that to him in the last eight hours. It would make a fun drinking game, if he were in the mood for fun. Which he wasn’t.

“Pretending to understand me all this time! I feel humiliated.”

“Yeah, a whole whopping eight hours. The breadth of my deception is enormous.” And yes, that was sarcasm. “At least you’re out of the handcuffs now.”

He wiped his face with his hand and flung wine onto his jeans. That had not been a drink-in-the-face offense, he had to say.

“Which is excellent news because it means I can walk away from you.” She rose from her stool, head held high, slapping down a pile of ones to pay for her drink.

She was leaving? Where was she going? Johnny stood up, the loose end of the cuffs dangling and hitting him in the thigh. “Is everything okay?” he asked, because it seemed like a safe enough question to ask. If you asked a woman what was wrong, she either said she was fine or she jumped your shit for thinking something was wrong. This way, it sounded more polite.

Which did not explain why Lizette, the most by-the-book woman he had ever met, flipped him off as she strode out of the bar in her stapled T-shirt, expensive handbag firmly on her shoulder, his shorts sagging on her narrow hips.

Flipped him off.

What was that?

Chapter Fourteen

GIVE ME ALL YOUR LOVIN’

DRAKE cast Josie Lynn an almost confused look over his shoulder, but then nodded. “Oh right. Sure.”

He paused at the first door, gently placing a hand on the doorknob. He hesitated for a second, then whipped it open and flipped the wall switch. The room illuminated to reveal a roomful of guitars and other music equipment, but no signs of anyone.

“Everything looks fine here,” he said, and Josie Lynn immediately pressed a finger to her lips. If anyone was there, they probably already knew someone had entered the apartment, but she didn’t want Drake to make it so easy for the intruder to know exactly where they were.

He looked puzzled for a moment, then whispered, “Right. Better to keep it down.”

Exactly, she thought. Why wasn’t he worried?

He went to the next door, this one open but dark. He reached around to the light switch. The light turned on and revealed a white-tiled bathroom. Drake stepped inside, glanced around, then shook his head.

“The shower,” Josie Lynn mouthed, pointing to the closed shower curtain.

He made an oh right sort of expression and took a quiet step toward the curtain, covered with different depictions of Elvis Presley. Elvis through the decades, apropos for Chers through the decades to hide behind, Josie Lynn thought.

Again, she noticed he didn’t hesitate to rip back the curtain, as if he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt there was no one hiding in the tub. And he was right. Aside from several bottles of shampoo and conditioner, a bar of soap, and a razor, the shower was empty.

She stepped back from the bathroom door to let him out. She didn’t even look over her shoulder. He seemed so certain the place was empty that she was starting to think she might be overreacting, too.

But as if to appease her, he moved past her to the next door. He turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, but before he could even reach for the light switch, something swooped out of the room.

The only impression Josie Lynn got was the shadowy image of something flying close to her head and the whoosh of wings.

“What the hell?” Drake said, voicing her very own thought.

But she didn’t stop to answer. Instead she grabbed his arm and tugged him into the dark room, slamming the door behind them. She fell back against the door and pulled him back against her, using both of their bodies to block the door.

They stood still, only their breathing audible in the blackness of the room.

“What—what was that?” she finally whispered after a few moments.

Drake didn’t answer right away, then he muttered as if with dawning realization. “Saxon.”

“Saxon?” What on earth was he talking about? That was a bird or some other flying creature. She shivered. God, she hated things that flew.

“I—I mean that was probably Saxon’s pet,” Drake said, although even without being able to see his expression, she didn’t quite believe his explanation.

“Saxon’s pet? What is it? And why would it be at your apartment?”

“He must have left it here because of the wedding.”

Okay, not sure why he’d do that, but whatever.

“What the heck is it?”

“A—a bat.”

* * *

WHY THE HELL had he told her that? Drake mentally kicked himself. Who had a pet bat?

“Who has a pet bat?” she asked, obviously coming to the very same conclusion.

“The same guy who has a pet alligator,” Drake said, rather proud of that quick connection.