The Experimental Murders (Elysium #2)

Chapter Fifteen

Memories of being strapped to a cold, metal table and having a tube fed into her throat flashed through her mind.

A bitter chill ran down her spine.

No. No, she never wanted to be at a doctor's mercy again. If she wanted to die, she would do it herself.

Stealing a glance at Booker, she had to smile as he placed the dried plate atop his first, his gentle hands reaching for another. She was reminded of when he had treated her leg, how meticulous and careful he had been.

Perhaps there was one doctor she would be willing to be at the mercy of.

He finally noticed her gaze and faced her, eyebrows raised. "Am I not doing this right?" he asked.

Smiling again, she shrugged and turned back to the sink. "Yes and no. You're drying them just fine, but you're going about this 'master of the house' thing all wrong."

He grinned and began to dry a third plate. "I often forget that I'm an employer when I'm with you. Conversation comes so easily. I find myself caught up in whatever task you're at, and it just feels natural to join in."

"What? Your other maids didn't enjoy talking about corpses?"

He chuckled. "Not so much, no."

"So many years ago I likely wouldn't have been as eager to discuss them, either. But things change. People change."

There was a pause before he replied. "Yes. Yes, they do, don't they?"

She turned to him again and found him gazing down at the plate in his hands, his brow furrowed in deep thought. Placing the pan she had been scouring back in the sink, she dried her hands on the towel draped over her shoulder.

"Are you worried your friend has changed?" she asked.

His eyes flitted to her, wandering back and forth as if they couldn't decide where on her face to focus. "No, not exactly. More like I worry he'll think I've changed."

"And not be happy about it?"

He laid the plate down and turned to lean against the sink again. "I haven't seen him since I was sixteen. I'm confident my skills have improved vastly, but there are other aspects of myself that I fear may disappoint him."

"Such as?"

He flexed his hands as he eyed her. "That I've gone soft."

She burst out laughing, and he looked slightly offended. "You? Soft?" she said.

His eyebrows drew together, and he scoffed. "I like to think I've softened somewhat. If you had known me a few years ago, you might say the same."

Though it still seemed preposterous, she remembered how he had offered to replace Mr. Wotton's severed finger with a mechanical one, free of charge. Then there were all the efforts he put into making her feel safe, even as two former Elysium employees searched for her. And there was no denying the tender affection he had for Gin. Perhaps he was softer than she gave him credit for.

Whacking his shoulder with her dish towel, she nodded to the pan in the sink. "I think this needs to soak a while longer. Shall we go comb the center for fresh bodies?"

He grinned and held out his arm. She looped her own through his, and they exited the kitchen.

~

Though she had yet to wash her coat since draping it over the corpse, she figured it didn't matter if they found another one. Even after all the trouble bringing the last one home had caused, she wouldn't put it past Booker to try it again. Which was also why she didn't bother changing out of her work dress.