Give It All by Cara McKenna Page B

softly against the wood in his jittery grip. His eyes were dark, pupils large and eerie. She’d seen him like this once before, and gleaned that it indicated a nasty combo of liquor and whatever prescription meds he’d mentioned taking.
    “Dunc—”
    He slipped, nearly falling sideways off the stool, catching himself with an elbow on the bar.
    “Jesus.” Raina bent over the counter and grabbed him under one armpit, every pound of him feeling limp. “Casey, help me.”
    Casey hurried over, shoving an arm under each of Duncan’s from behind. “Whoa, dude.”
    Raina knew what had to be done, much as she preferred to fix things herself.
    “Abilene, call nine-one-one.”

Chapter 6
    “No,” Duncan cut in as Abilene headed for the phone. His voice was hollow and odd, but some clarity had returned.
    “Do it,” Raina told Abilene.
    “Don’t,” Duncan countered, and managed to stand up straight.
    Casey let him go and stepped back a pace. “What the fuck you on?”
    “Nothing fatal. I’m just having a bit of a reaction,” Duncan said, eyes unfocused, words reedy and far off.
    “A reaction of what and what?” Casey asked.
    “Pills and alcohol and a rather potent anxiety attack.”
    “Good God, get him upstairs,” Raina told Casey. She pulled her apartment keys from her pocket and Casey caught them.
    She gave the bar a quick scan, filled an order, but found most folks preoccupied with the news. To Abilene she said, “Think I’m going to need you to fly solo for a bit.”
    “Oh. Um, okay.”
    “I’ll get Casey to help out. He worked here when he was your age.” Raina tossed her bar towel aside and rounded the counter. “Anybody tries to rob us,” she said to Abilene, “there’s a loaded shotgun between the cooler and the cupboards.”
    She jogged up the back stairwell and heard Casey swearing through the open apartment door. She hurried through the kitchen and found him easing Duncan onto the center couch cushion in her dark den. By the light slipping in from the kitchen, the man looked woozy, but conscious. His lids were heavy, those normally blade-sharp eyes dull.
    Casey waved a hand in front of his face.
    “Yes, yes. I see you.”
    “What the fuck’d you take?” Casey repeated.
    “It’s prescription.”
    “You better not OD in Raina’s apartment, man. That’s so fucking rude.”
    “I took two Klonopins,” Duncan said. “Or maybe three.”
    “And two shots,” Raina said. “What’s Klonopin do?”
    Casey flipped on the side table lamp, illuminating his frown. “When I did time, my cell mate took that shit to keep from going psycho.”
    Duncan seemed to will himself lucid enough to glare at Casey. “I take it for panic attacks. And anxiety.”
    “Doesn’t seem to be working.”
    Raina felt her perceptions about Duncan bang a U-turn, with his normally dominant character trait—cool control—suddenly gone.
    “Were you shaking from the pills when you came in,” Raina asked, “or the anxiety?”
    “The latter,” Duncan said. “Or both.” He leaned forward to plant his elbows on his knees and rub his face. Inappropriate though it probably was, Raina got distracted, watching his arms. She’d never seen him in a T-shirt, never seen his bare skin past the elbow.
Nice.
Inappropriate, but yes, very nice.
    “What are you so anxious about?” she asked.
    Not meeting their eyes, he said, “I’ve been sacked.”
    Raina blinked. “Whoa.”
    Casey did a double take. “Sunnyside fired you?”
    “I’ve been on probation since we got Tremblay arrested,” Duncan said, long fingers tangling in his messy sandy brown hair. He had more stubble on his jaw than Raina had imagined him capable of growing. The man was coming apart at the seams.
    “That’s shitty,” Casey said.
    Duncan sat up straight, still avoiding their eyes. “That was only fair, considering the way I exploited my position.”
    “But now you’re fired, for real?” Raina asked.
    Duncan took a deep breath. “David