Page 113 of Shade
I GO BACK to my room to change while Scarlet showers and gets dressed.
Tiller’s on the bathroom floor now, looking like death. I kick his thigh. “You son of a bitch, you didn’t fuck her.”
He laughs, or tries to, but he curls into himself, moaning in pain and never answers me.
Scarlet comes into our room an hour later where I’m sitting on the bed, strolling through my Twitter feed and looking at the highlights from the motocross race in Southwick.
“Where’s Tiller?” she demands, Roan coming in behind her. He looks about as tired as I am.
“Dead. I killed him for lying to me.” I nod to the bathroom, not looking up at her. “I stashed the body in there.”
She barges in the bathroom and he’s on the floor, his arms over his head. At least he has in underwear on. Earlier he didn’t.
“Montezuma revenge,” he mumbles when she asks him what’s wrong.
“That’s Mexico dumbass,” Roan points out from beside me. “We’re in Paris.”
I crane my neck to look around the corner. Dude’s in bad shape. Not only is he pale as a goddamn ghost and sweating, but his hip is also bright red.
Scarlet nudges him with her foot, and he curls into himself. “We have to leave in an hour.”
Standing up, I toss my phone aside and lean into the doorframe. He’s moaning on the floor, mumbling something I can’t make out.
Scarlet kicks him again. “Get it together. Don’t be a bitch. That’s what you get. They told you to stay with the tour, and now you’ve pissed the gods off.”
We all told him it was a bad idea, but Tiller listens to nobody but himself. I don’t feel bad for him one bit. Fucking liar.
