Skullduggery {sapphic thriller}

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Every breath of the bitter autumn air burnt my lungs as my bare feet slapped against the sand-dusted sidewalk along the bayfront. Each step felt like cold shards of glass, but I didn't stop. I had never come so close to death before. Not like that at least.

My thighs trembled with fatigue, but adrenaline pushed me forward until I found myself in a familiar back alley with painted gray brick, looking up at four flights of wrought iron stairs. I didn't give myself time to change my mind or let my body argue even though my legs felt like cement with every step. I climbed as quietly as I could until I reached the top.

By the time I stumbled onto Desirae's balcony, my body was shot. I collapsed onto a lounge chair in front of her bedroom door, trying not to make a sound as I shivered against the metal frame.

I didn't want to wake her. I didn't want to get her involved any more than she already was. I'd be gone before the first hint of daylight ever crept over the bay's horizon, I just needed time to recoup.

But as I shut my eyes, a soft padding against the glass doors that led into her bedroom made me twist my neck around. Colonel Mustard sat up on his hind legs, pawing at the glass. I raised my finger to my lips, like trying to shush a cat would do any good. As soon as we made eye contact, his bushy little mustached mouth opened with a meow.

Traitor.

The patio door ripped open and Desirae stepped out, gun drawn and pointed my way.

"If you're gonna shoot, make it count," I groaned.

"Kirby?!" The gun lowered to her hip. "You can't be here. You're gonna get me kicked off this case or—" As she stepped around the lounge chair, she dropped to her knees at my side. "Oh my god, what happened to you?"

"I'm fine." My voice cracked like Cal still had his hands wrapped around my vocal chords. "I just need a place to crash for a couple hours. You won't even know I'm here." I tried to hide a grimace as I leaned back against the chair. Her fingers trembled over me before sliding away the strands of hair that had been matted to my face, wet with either blood or sweat, I wasn't sure. My stubborn will gave out and I melted into her warm palm. "I'm sorry, Des, I didn't know where else to go."

"Who did this to you?"

I didn't want to tell her, but I knew she'd pry it out of me anyway. "An angry spouse and a juiced up goon."

"Landon figured out who you were." The delicate concern on her face hardened as she looked beyond me towards the fire escape. "Or he already knew." She stood up, slinking over to the railing to peer down, gun still ready in her hands as she scanned the alleyway. "Let's get inside."

I mustered up what strength I could to clamber out of the lounge chair. My feet went to pins and needles beneath me, still all numb from running and blistered from those cheap fucking heels that saved my life. I would've smashed my face on the balcony floor had Desirae not caught my arm, steadying me upright to lead me inside.

She switched on a lamp beside her bed, setting her gun down on the nightstand, then hurried back to my side. Without a word, her fingers found the clasp on the back of my dress. She quickly slid the zipper down, patting and shaking out the tattered, bloodstained sequins.

"I don't normally question women undressing me," I murmured as she peeled the capped sleeves down off my shoulders. "But—" The dress fell to the floor and for the third time tonight, I was standing in my underwear in front of her. A little less confident this time, but grateful I splurged for the classic lace lingerie set. My eyes wandered up Desirae's bare legs where a silky pair of lavender shorts hugged her hips. A matching cami loosely hung from her shoulders and a scarf wrapped her locs that were still neatly tied up in a bun. "I uh, like your scarf."