The CEO and Her Driver

Chapter 42

I felt like a burrito. A warm cozy burrito that had been wrapped in a fuzzy blanket instead of a tortilla. 

"I can't believe you posted Laurence's bail," Delle muttered, wrapping the blanket tighter around me. "Doesn't he have any family? Friends? Anyone else he can call after dropping an unwanted kiss on 'em?" She tucked the blanket so tight that I was on the verge of losing circulation. 

Memories of my earlier conversation with Laurence inside the jail cell fluttered to mind. His list of enemies was nearly nonexistent. 

Laurence had furrowed his brow in deep thought for a long moment and shook his head. "My younger brother Carter hates me." He adjusted his tie, attempting to keep a semblance of order to the disaster that the evening had caused to his clothes. 

"But that has been pretty normal since we were little. He spends all his time pretending to be an artist and avoiding real work. Then there is his friend Decklan." Laurence's face turned dark. "He takes secret pictures of women without their knowledge. So with friends like that, Carter's list of enemies is much longer than mine. We should look into who might want to hurt him."

Delle who had followed me inside the jail cell and stood poised with a pen over a small notebook shot Laurence an annoyed look. "Okay Unwanted Kisser, we get it, you are squeaky clean and don't have more than two enemies."

"Delle," I had said in a warning tone. "He's just being honest. No need to be a jerk."

"Sounded braggy to me," she had muttered. "Not all of us are so lucky." 

I closed my eyes, pushing away the memory, exhausted as I settled against my bed pillows. I was out of batteries, unable to connect the dots of my muddy mystery. Delle placed a glass of water next to my bed along with some pain medication. "You will probably be a little loopy until morning. So don't make any calls or anything." 

Walking towards my bedroom door, she offered me a tired smile. "Try to get some sleep. Things will look better in the morning." Delle shuffled her feet, showing her first sign of concern. "I'm glad you're okay. And I'm sorry I yelled at Laurence... and Aiden... and at that bird that pooped on my car at the police station." She ran her hand down her face. "I tend to lose it when one of my little sisters gets hurt."

"I get it," I admitted. "It's okay." 

I tried to offer a goodbye wave, but my hands were trapped due to her tight burrito blanket work. Then Delle closed the door, leaving me alone in my apartment. 

As I drifted off to sleep, I fell into dreams of knives, kisses, and pain from heartbreak and physical cuts. The dreams turned into swirls of anxiety and fear until a sudden ringing ripped me from my groggy deep sleep but pulled the images of knives and assassins into my waking mind. 

It was hard to shake certain dreams. Sometimes, they followed you into the morning, demanding to continue their torment until you could convince yourself that you were no longer in their domain.

My heart beat wildly when I realized I couldn't move. I began to panic, my breaths coming in fast, unsteady puffs. The ringing continued, pressing against my temples with each sharp sound. 

I'm trapped. I'm in the dark and I can't move. 

Closing my eyes, I forced myself to calm down. Think Allie. What is real?

I felt fuzz, cool air. And slowly, my room came into view. Then feeling like a goober with a very tired brain, I realized I was still in Delle's blanket tuck in my room. 

Oh... Oops. 

Shimmying my arms free, I untangled my arms from the blanket before wrapping it around myself to ward off the cool night air. Then walking out of my bedroom, feeling off-balance, I followed the ringing noise.