Catching the Storm

38. Hotel Rooms, Knives, and Bullets

Crystal's POV

"Are you even helping?" I hissed out between clenched teeth as I struggled to hold up Branson's weight.

"Are you going to believe whatever answer I give you?" Jackson questioned.

I turned to peer around Branson's body and glared at Jackson. Each of us had one of Branson's arms thrown over our shoulders and we were trying-unsuccessfully thus far-to get him to the hotel room.

His hotel room. Not ours. Jackson did have some brains after all, thank god.

Noah had ditched us to return the ambulance before anyone noticed it was gone. Personally, I thought he was just avoiding having to help carry Branson's dead weight.

"This plan of yours better work," I muttered as I continued to trudge forward with Branson.

"I give you my word," Jackson said.

I let out a scoff. "Oh yes," I said sarcastically. "That makes me feel so much better. That totally solves everything."

"I'm sensing some hostility."

"Just shut up," I said.

"And deprive you of my sweet voice?"

I wanted to hit him. Actually, I wanted to shoot him, now that that option was back on the table. "Your voice isn't all that great."

"The lady at the front desk seems to think so."

"I still don't know how to talked your way around this," I grumbled as I thought back to when we were trying to get Branson through the lobby.

"I'm a charming person."

"That can't be it."

Jackson laughed as we maneuvered Branson onto the elevator.

I turned to look at Jackson once more. "In your infinite wisdom, you didn't think to get a hold of a wheelchair, a luggage cart, or anything to move him."

Jackson was eerily quiet.

I looked at him questioningly. "Well?" I pressed.

"If I'm being honest-" He started.

"I already know I'm not going to like this answer."

"-I didn't think we'd actually manage to get him tonight."

I shot him another glare. "Are you kidding me? So what you mean to tell me is that you're completely unprepared."

"I did not say that."

"Close enough."

"You really need to get laid."

That comment threw me off so much, I nearly tripped over my own feet and dropped Branson as we stepped off the elevator.

"Excuse me?" I questioned incredulously.

"You heard me," Jackson stated. "You need a distraction. Need to release some of that pent-up tension."

"And a massage wouldn't do that?"

"Babe," Jackson said seriously. "that would not be nearly as much fun."

"We're dragging an unconscious killer to an empty hotel room after drugging him and putting his little . . . psychotic friend in the hospital and you're thinking about getting laid? I'm really beginning to question your sanity."

Jackson laughed loudly. "You're only just now beginning to question my sanity?"

I grimaced. "Fair point," I muttered as we arrived at Branson's room.