St Kilda Consulting 01 - Always Time to Die

lips was tending toward blue rather than pink. She had all the signs of an opium overdose.
    No point in making her throw up; there was nothing left in her stomach. Mother Nature’s way of taking care of unwanted cargo. Traditional medical care was too far away and he was damned if he’d let anyone at the ranch house touch Carly.
    Someone there had poisoned both of them.
    But Dan was much bigger, more able to tolerate the drug without succumbing. Carly wasn’t. It had hit her like a falling building.
    She was going under.
    Fear slammed through Dan in a wave of adrenaline that made him forget his own light-headedness, his own slowed reactions. He pulled Carly away from the truck, clamped his arm around her, and tried to walk and shake her awake at the same time. He had to keep her moving until her system could cope with whatever drug she hadn’t already vomited.
    She hung from his arm, sliding away.
    “Carly!”
    Her head lolled.
    He grabbed her hair with his free hand, brought her face up to his, and shouted, “Carly! You have to wake up and move. Do it now. ”
    Her eyelids flickered. Her head jerked unsteadily. “Dan?”
    “I’m here, Carly. Somebody gave you an opiate. You threw up most of it.” I hope. “Now you have to stay awake until your breathing is better. Walk, honey. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
    She heard someone talking to her at a distance. A long way away. A dream. After some effort she identified the voice as Dan’s. No matter how many times she told him to go away, he wouldn’t stop shouting at her so that she could sleep.
    Finally, slowly, her legs started to get the rhythm of walking. She couldn’t wholly support herself, but she at least could keep her feet under her some of the time.
    “That’s it, Carly. Good. Good. Much better. Hang on to me, honey. We’re winning.”
    Slowly she became aware of her feet, icy, and her body, heavier than wet sand. She didn’t see how she stood up. Then she realized she wasn’t standing, not really. Dan was supporting her and at the same time forcing her to put one foot in front of the other.
    “Walk, love,” he said, rubbing his cheek on her hair. “Just walk. I’ll take care of the balancing act for both of us. It’s helping clear my head, too.”
    Carly opened her eyes and understood that it wasn’t a dream. Dan was frog-marching her up one side of the frozen road and down the other. The truck jerked by her. No, the truck wasn’t lurching. She was. But with every step, every heartbeat, every breath, she felt more in control.
    “When I catch the fucking coward who did this to you,” Dan continued, “I’m going to do the entire Colombian dance on him—necktie, cock and balls, the whole tortilla.”
    She licked dry lips with a tongue only slightly less dry. “Sounds painful.”
    Abruptly Dan stopped. “Carly?”
    “I think so.”
    He swept her up in a hug that told her how worried he’d been. His face was buried against her neck and he held her with the strength of desperation. His skin was clammy against hers.
    “What…” She swallowed against the dryness of her throat.
    “Someone dropped an opiate in our toast-the-dead cup. I threw it up before it could really take hold. You were more susceptible, but you threw up enough to keep from going under.”
    “An opiate? You mean like heroin?”
    “Yes.”
    She swallowed again. A bit of moisture was finally returning. Her head was only spinning some of the time. She felt like she’d been beaten with a sock full of sand. The taste in her mouth would have gagged a skunk.
    “You’re saying people pay to feel like that?” she asked in disbelief.
    He grinned slightly. “Most people don’t take enough to get sick. They just get woozy and nod off.”
    “I’m never getting close to that dog crap again.”
    “You didn’t exactly volunteer this time.”
    She leaned against him. “I still feel fuzzy.”
    “Yeah, I know what you mean.” He took her pulse and listened to her breathing. “You’ll do fine.”
    “Because of you.”
    Dan had been trying not to think about that. If Carly had been alone when the narcotic hit, she could have driven off the road and died when her vehicle hit something hundreds of feet below. Even if she had realized something was wrong and managed to stop on the road and get out to be sick, she wouldn’t have been able to climb back in her SUV afterward. She would have passed out and frozen to death before anyone even noticed she was