Fatal Attraction (Love Kills Duet #2)

25. Twenty Five

Twenty Five

Phoenix

One week later

“ P hoenix! Come on, man, wake the fuck up!”

Something sharp and painful like a bee-sting burned against my cheek, and I opened my eyes with a groan, my head throbbing from how much I drank last night. As I blinked through the dizziness, understanding I was in bed and trying to comprehend how in the hell I managed to end up here, I found two excruciatingly enraged versions of my best friend hovering over me, shaking out his hand.

“Did you just slap me?”

“You’re goddamn right I did,” he snapped, snorting as he made to help me sit up. I hissed in pain and brought up a hand to tenderly rub my aching temples. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Spike,” I whined, wincing as I threw my hands up in a plea for him to please stop yelling at me. “Tone it down a notch, man. What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”

Something cold and bitter flashed through his dark eyes. “Get up. Get dressed. And then meet me in the living room. I brought food and coffee.”

I really wasn’t in the mood for whatever this was, and I felt like straight shit, but once Spike threatened to punch me in the dick, I reluctantly got up and dragged ass inside my bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. Once I was dressed in a plain white T-shirt and a pair of black gym shorts, I tiredly ambled into the living room.

I blinked, freezing dead in my tracks when I noticed how immaculately clean it was.

Spike sat down on the couch and then scolded me with his arms crossed tightly against his chest. “I take it you don’t remember me coming over last night.”

“Did you clean my apartment?”

“You left your door unlocked,” he said, outright ignoring my question. “I found you passed out headfirst on the floor beside a massive pile of beer cans and over a dozen empty shot bottles.” He nudged his head toward the kitchen. “Your countertops were scattered in nothing but empty takeout boxes and don’t even get me started on the—”

“Then don’t,” I angrily bit out, certain he was about to refer to the mountain of beer cans I’d blown through this past week. “It’s been a rough week, and I needed to blow off some steam. I’d planned on cleaning the shit up today.”

“You’re spiraling.”

It wasn’t much of an accusation because we both knew it was the goddamn truth, but I refused to acknowledge it.

“I’m sorry I left my door unlocked, okay? It won’t happen again.”

I remember he’d mentioned something about coffee and food, so I sprung for the kitchen, ecstatic to find a McDonalds bag resting on my Lysol scented counter with two large coffee cups beside it, steam still expelling from the mouths. Not caring which one was mine, I grabbed the closest and brought it to my lips, groaning as the delicious warmth slid down my throat, heating my blood. I opened one of my cabinets and fetched two 800mg Ibuprofen to help soothe the pounding in my poor head.

“Phoenix.” Spike entered the kitchen, his arms still locked against his large chest as he leaned a hip against the threshold, his scowl unwavering. “We need to talk about this.”

I continued ignoring him, opting to focus on the open food bag which had approximately four chicken biscuits and four hashbrowns stacked neatly at the bottom. I fetched one of each and then balanced my coffee in my other hand. Spike sighed when I maneuvered around him, plopped down on the couch, and tore into the food like a wild animal.

What was he expecting me to say? That I had, indeed, hit rock bottom because it’d been an entire goddamn week since the love of our lives was taken from us, and we still had no solid leads on her location? That I was being eaten alive by guilt because I should’ve stayed behind that night instead of honoring my duties and riding inside the ambulance with Officer Brown—who’d died on the way to the hospital—choosing to help save her instead of putting Charlotte first? And that I was fucking terrified, drowning myself in booze every night because I couldn’t stomach thinking about all of the horrible things this bastard was doing to Charlotte?

When I didn’t retort, Spike sighed through his nose and said, “Carter woke up last night.”

I stopped chewing then, gazing up at him through wide eyes. “He did?”

“Yes,” Spike nodded, his tone sharp. “He did. I called you a hundred times and you wouldn’t answer the phone.”

“Did you go see him?”

“I’d planned on it, but no, I didn’t. I stayed here, got you in bed, and then spent all night deep cleaning every inch of your nasty ass apartment.”

“What?” I placed my food on the table, glaring at him like he’d seriously lost his fucking mind. “Why the hell didn’t you go see him? He may know who took Char—”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” he chided with a furious cock of his head. “Did you not hear me when I said that I found you head-fucking-first in the middle of the goddamn floor? What the fuck was I supposed to do—just leave you there? ”

“YES!” I outrageously howled, rising to my feet with my fists clamped stiffly at my sides. “I don’t give a damn what condition I was in, Spike. Charlotte is our TOP priority and—”

“Excuse me?” he interrupted with the support of his raised hand, his dark eyes narrowed. “You say Charlotte is our top priority, but yet who’s the one taking advantage of their time off by drowning themselves in booze every fucking night?”

“Fuck you,” I incredulously sneered, the truth of his words cracking my heart in half.

“We’ve been waiting days for Carter to wake up from the coma, Phoenix. Days . I needed you, man.” His voice cracked as he stared at me, his arms slapping down to his sides. “I need you now more than ever.”

“I’m sorry.” As hard as I tried to stop it, it wasn’t enough. Tears spilled down my cheeks, and I broke, hugging Spike when he extended his arms to me. “I was working on Charlotte’s case and I… I didn’t mean to drink so damn much. I just miss her, Spike. I fucking miss her. I’m so scared he’s hurting her or worse, ra—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” he growled in my ear. “We have to remain positive. Charlotte is strong, Phoenix. She’s so fucking strong. We’ll find her. I promise you we’ll find her.”

“How do we know she’s still alive?”

“We don’t,” he said frankly. Painfully. “But after everything this guy has done, I doubt he’d just kill her.”

He blew out a shaky breath, his grip tightening so hard it hurt.

“Not unless she gives him a reason to.”