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We watch Asher carry her back into the bedroom, and Tristan follows right behind him, like a fucking puppy. This girl is a puzzle, and these fools act like they can fucking solve her.
This isn’t fucking Wheel of Fortune.
Pushing past Drew, I head over to the buffet table where the coffee maker is, grabbing a cup and pouring myself one. No cream, no sugar. Black. Probably like my soul.
The minute the hot bitterness reaches my tongue, I let out a hum. I need the caffeine after partying last night. I was exhausted after playing all day. Thankfully, we don’t have another game until tomorrow, so we have time to figure out what we’re going to do with the crazy chick.
“I can’t believe it.” I turn toward Drew, who is running his hands through his hair.
Drew and I have always been close. Since the day we were brought on to the Mavericks. The two of us have a special bond, and as a catcher and a pitcher, we need to. I can tell when he is rattled, and he trusts me to call the pitches he throws. We read each other well.
Which is why I can tell he is out of his mind right now.
This fucking chick…
“What’s wrong, Spencer?” I ask him.
“She’s here. The girl I pulled from that house. She’s really here.” He runs a hand over his face like he is still unsure if he is dreaming this or not.
I can assure him, he’s not.
I take another sip of my coffee. “She seems like a nice girl. Really has her shit together,” I say sarcastically. “Why are you getting yourself all worked up over her? You don’t know her.”
“Come on, Davis. She has obviously been through some shit,” Drew defends.
“Oh, that is fucking obvious. You need to focus on your game, not going and playing hero. You have a habit of getting yourself into trouble when you play Superman, Drew. And that will get you fucking killed one day.”
I shake my head at him. I get that he has a good heart, but all it’s ever done is get him in trouble. And almost dead.
“I’m not playing hero,” he snaps back.
I scoff. “Seriously? Do you want me to name all the times?” My eyebrows nearly hit my hairline as I challenge him. He knows I’m right.
Drew doesn’t get a chance to respond; Asher and Tristan come back into the room. Kayce, Drew, and I stare at them, waiting for them to say something.
“So, before we met our guest, I was telling you what she was on. Ketamine.” Asher puts his hands on his hips. “And now I can see it even more so.”
“What does that mean?” Kayce asks.
“Wherever she was, that was what she was being given. I had her hair tested.” Asher walks over toward the couch and sits down.
“Why would you test that for specific drug?” Kayce asks him.
He blows out a breath. “Because I had a suspicion. And unless you know to test for it, you won’t look for it. It’s not a normal drug to give for drugging someone, but it’s effective.”
“Effective how?” I narrow my eyes at him.
“It’s a hallucinogenic drug. She ran from the hospital, scared out of her mind. Paranoia is one of the withdrawal symptoms. That possibly could have been the catalyst for her leaving the hospital. Panic attacks, anxiety; this drug does a number on you. And after her hallucination just now…” Asher trails off.
“Fucker,” Tristan growls.
“And depending on how much she was given for how long, those effects can last a while.” Asher leans his head against the back of the couch.
“So, what do we do, then?” Kayce frowns.
“We need to call John,” Drew offers up.
Asher sighs. “This goes against all the professional bullshit, but we may want to wait on that. She’s skittish, and I have no idea how long her effects may last. She needs to just be watched closely. At least until she is more stable to tell us what is going on so we can get her help.”