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“What the hell are you talking about?” This doesn’t sound good. “Rook. Don’t go doing anything reckless, hear me?”
“Says the guy who let himself be abducted and tied up in a basement, beaten up and starved. Yeah, I hear you. Now, you listen to me.” Damn, his dark eyes are intense, sharp like laser beams as they cut into me. “You stay out of this from now on. Both you and Storm have done your part. Now let me do mine.”
“And what exactly are you planning on doing?”
“I know people. You have contacts in the Chinese mafia. I have contacts in other places.”
“What sort of places are those, dude?”
“Places you’d never set foot in. Places too corrupt for your young soul.”
Jesus. He’s on a roll today. “And what will you offer in return? Your soul?”
He grins then, at long last, although what he says sends a chill through me. “I don’t have a soul, bro. I gave it away long ago.”
***
Gave his soul away to whom, I wonder as I walk through the house, checking the rooms I go past. For whom, or what?
It makes me feel cold inside, but Rook didn’t give me a chance to ask more. He left, saying he had stuff to take care of.
He also said Raylin might be out by the pool with her dog, so I’m trying to find the way out.
I bet that’s a metaphor for lots of things in my life.
It’s an overcast day, and when I finally find a door and step outside to the pool, cold wind whips at me, ripe with the scent of rain.
Raylin is crouched on the lawn at the far side of the pool, playing with a tiny fluffy Pomeranian who’s yipping and dancing back and forth, trying to grab with its teeth something she’s holding.
Then she throws it—a stick, presumably—and the ball of fur launches itself after it, barking furiously.
It makes me smile. Makes me wonder if Layla would like a Pomeranian, or a bigger dog. A Husky, maybe?
I amble around the pool, happy for the fresh air in my face.
Can’t believe how deeply my experiences this week have marked me. How many things I took for granted suddenly seem fucking huge and how grateful I am for them.
Oxygen. Water. Food. Mobility.
Safety. Life. Pleasure.
Layla.
The Pomeranian comes bounding back with a ridiculously big stick between its teeth, depositing it triumphantly at Raylin’s feet.
She laughs. Throws the stick again. The doggy gallops after it.
I crouch down beside her and clear my throat.
“Oh my God!” She falls back on her ass, and I chuckle. “Hawk. You scared the crap out of me.”
“That was on my To Do list for this morning. Now I can finally tick it off.” I grin at her, and she smiles back, dark eyes twinkling.
“Smartass.”
“I try.”
“So how are you? You’re looking much better. When they brought you in, jeez… that was scary.”
