Page 29 of The Specialist

Egan

I watched the news on the multivehicle accident that Sofia had rushed away to help with at the hospital. She was right when she said this weather was dangerous. Some people were overcautious. Some didn’t take the slick streets into account. Some drove too slowly. Some too fast.

It all culminated in a horrific crash on the busy streets of Toronto. Nine cars, one truck, many humans, and even a dog were injured. I knew she would be busy for hours. I hoped she would be able to save some lives. The commentary on the news stated several people had sustained life-threatening injuries.

I paced the apartment, thinking of what I had told her. I had barely brushed the surface of my time spent on the wrong side of the law. There was simply too much to tell. Marcus, Damien, the powers behind Hidden Justice, knew of my past. Buried a lot of it. Scrubbed some.

None of it would ever be scrubbed from my memories. Some unintended people were hurt in my quest to rid the world of those who killed to get their name known. I regretted it deeply. Hidden Justice had appealed to me because of their mandate and the way they eliminated those whose crimes were clear and left no room for doubt. They also protected the innocent. I had prayed more than once that those I helped save made up for the lives that I had taken away before.

I had found a small bit of peace once I became a member of HJ. My mind was clearer, my grief dissipated. I had always loved art, and I began to paint, losing myself in the beauty of the simple canvases I liked to create. I started to channel my extra energy into workouts, adding layers of muscle to my body. I stumbled upon the art of perfume making by accident. I attended an exhibit with perfume makers and struck up a conversation with a couple who was working on a new line of fragrances. The process had always fascinated me. Angelica and Warren Dubois were warm, personable, and talented.

“I like this one,” I mused to Angelica, inhaling the fragrance on the slip of blotter paper. “Is that a trace of pine in the blend?”

“Yes,” she said, sounding delighted.

“And cypress. Cedar as well. A touch of bergamot. Very woodsy. Masculine.”

“Exactly.”

She handed me another one. “Tell me.”

I waited a moment then inhaled. “Fresh, like water. Citrus, but unusual. Grapefruit, maybe?”

She clapped her hands. “Yes.”

She held up her wrist. “Here?”

I sniffed. “Ah, jasmine. Lily. Freesia? Delicate. Very pretty.”

“You have a good nose, Egan. You should come visit our lab.”

“I would love to.”

Visiting their lab was an incredible learning experience. Talking to their staff. Listening to their objectives. I invested in their company, and they allowed me to work behind the scenes with them, using my unknown talent of my nose. I was proud of the line of fragrances we created. They sold well, and I enjoyed having my own scent no one else could purchase. I had helped create a complementary one for Sofia. It had slighter different notes than the citrusy one she wore now, but I knew she would love it. I had mixed a few light florals with citrus and some water elements. The result was creamy, soft, and subtle. I had received the first bottle last week and planned to give it to her as a gift.

If, that is, she still wanted to be with me.

I always knew she would have to be told about my past. And I had hoped she would accept that it was my past and I was beyond it. Now, thanks to the mysterious stranger entering my life, I’d had no choice but to tell her the truth and hope she could handle it. But I was worried.

Worried that I might be too much for her.

I paced and agonized. Checked the news for any updates. Looked at my phone for messages I didn’t expect to come. She would be too busy. I wondered if she would stay later than the end of her shift. If that happened, she would text to tell me. I would pick her up whenever she needed me to.

I tried to sleep and failed. I worked out in the small gym down the hall, lifting weights and running on the treadmill until my legs shook with exhaustion.

Still, there was no sleep. Finally at five, I gave up and made a pot of coffee. I took my mug and stared out the window at the breaking dawn. I was startled when my door opened and Sofia walked in.

“Sofia?” I asked, confused. “What are you doing here? Your shift—”

“A few of my colleagues came in early. They knew what happened last night and arrived early to cover so we could go home and rest.”

“Was it terrible?”

“Yes. We lost three people, but the rest have all been treated or sent to surgery. I hope there are no more deaths.” She shook her head. “A useless tragedy all because someone was impatient and refused to slow down in the rain.”

“I’m sorry.”

She lifted one shoulder, still not coming closer. I had to swallow before I could speak again.