A Killer Retreat by Tracy Weber Page B

surround him. A male body flew through the air and landed face-first on the ground.
    â€œGot him!” yelled the triumphant-sounding teenager.
    The crowd applauded as their brown-haired hero carried his squirming, whining captive away from the rabbit hutch. The bunnies stopped screaming and huddled together, unharmed.
    â€œDoes anyone know who he belongs to?” someone asked.
    My teeth clenched tightly together; my lips barely moved. “I do. And I swear to God, if that red-clawed witch doesn’t start using his leash, I’ll strangle her with it!”
    The air became pin-drop silent. Six pairs of shocked, silent eyes stared at me. Even the bunnies wrinkled their noses, as if scowling at me in disapproval.
    Oh no. Had I really said that?
    Blood poured from my head to my stomach. I glanced around for Toni, hoping to beg for forgiveness. The last thing I needed was for Emmy to hear that I’d threatened to kill her stepmother. Again. But Toni was gone.
    I faced the gape-mouthed crowd instead. Part of me wanted to apologize for the outburst. Part of me wanted to explain. Part of me wanted to assure the shocked strangers that my mouth and my intentions sometimes didn’t match up. That of course, I’d never strangle Monica. I’d never hurt anyone.
    But I was too mortified to speak. So I covered up my embarrassment with pretend indignation. I stomped up to the Bandit-carrying teen and reached toward him with vibrating, claw-like hands.
    â€œGive him to me.”
    I held tight to the squirming dog’s collar, marched to Monica’s cabin, and pounded my fist on the door.
    I stood at the door for several grumbling, impatient, foot-tapping seconds until Bruce finally answered. Loose, puffy skin pillows hung underneath his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was less than friendly. “What are you doing here? I told you, Monica doesn’t want to talk to you.”
    I held the yapping, writhing terrier up to his face. “Well, I want to talk to her. Bandit was terrorizing the rabbits. She needs to keep him on leash.”
    Bruce sighed and opened the door wider. “That stupid dog again.” He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Some days I don’t know who’s more frustrating: Monica, or that god-awful dog. She must have decided to let him run loose again. She promised Emmy that she’d keep him under control, but sometimes she can be …” He shook his head.
    Awful .
    Bruce took Bandit from my arms. “You’ll have to talk to Monica later. She’s not here.”
    â€œWhen will she be back?”
    He looked at his watch. “Honestly, I’m not sure. She and Bandit left over an hour ago. She said she was going stop at the restaurant and then go for a soak in the hot tubs. I thought she’d be back by now.”
    That didn’t make any sense. “It’s not even nine yet. The hot tubs are closed until ten.”
    â€œEmmy gave Monica a key to the spa last night and encouraged her to go after hours.”
    â€œShe wanted Monica to use the spa when it’s closed?”
    Bruce shrugged. “Emmy made it sound like a peace offering, but I think she’s trying to keep Monica away from the other guests.” He frowned. “It’s probably for the best. Monica is in a foul mood. She was up sick most of the night. When she left this morning, she was hell bent on telling off that chef for giving her food poisoning. I tried to talk her out of it, but there was no reasoning with her.”
    Monica had been sick last night? She seemed fine when I saw her at the Retreat House. I idly wondered if she had somehow caught Rene’s flu. On a different day, I might have asked Bruce more questions, but I had my own agenda. I said a quick goodbye and walked down the stairway.
    I should have taken Bruce’s advice and gone back to my cabin. I should have let some time pass. Time in which Monica and I could both