Fourteen
Kayla needed to update her definition of “a flash”. The purple-haired pest didn’t rematerialize until almost nine o’clock. At least it had given me time to eat a proper meal. That alone helped my body fight through the aches and pains. Like the last time—I’m assuming seeing as I wasn’t exactly conscious—she just waltzed through my locked front door as if she owned the place, earbud dangling from one ear, the cord snaking down into the pocket of her jeans.
“You really need to learn the concept of knocking before you just enter someone’s house, especially one with a g*n and a license to shoot you.”
“And here I thought we had a connection.” She let out a girlish chuckle.
“When does Desmond want to meet?”
“He’s downstairs in the car. He muttered something about not wanting you to
