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Buck nods. “Yes. That does make sense.”
“Anyway, the tribal markings went up his forearm to his upper arm, where they turned into a Raven with red eyes and flames for wings. And then the tribal designs wrapped up around onto his left shoulder.”
Buck nods. “Sounds a lot like Lucifer Raven’s tattoo.”
I can’t cry. I want to, but I can’t.
Does Luke even deserve my tears? I shed a lot for him when I thought he left me.
Turns out he came back.
Why? I still don’t know exactly why all of this is happening.
“Tell me,” I say to Buck. “Tell me everything you know about Lucifer Raven.”
43
LUKE
I learned from the best. Career criminals who used everything at their disposal as a means for weapon or escape.
I have no desire to escape. Katelyn is here, and I can’t help her if I can’t get to her.
I’m not looking to escape. No, I’m looking for something I can use as a weapon.
I jerk at a pounding on the door. “Hurry it up in there. You’re taking too long.”
“I’m washing my hands, asshole.”
I cringe. I probably shouldn’t be name calling, but if the shoe fits…
Quickly I reach into the toilet tank and grab the half-dissolved tablet. It’s toilet cleaner and deodorizer. Our housekeeper at home uses them in all our bathrooms.
It’s made of some kind of disinfectant, and it will pack a wallop if I can get it in someone’s eyes.
How? I have no idea. But it’s a hell of lot better than nothing.
Do I really think I can beat King with a toilet cleaning tablet? Fuck it all. I suppose stranger things have happened.
Now, what to do with it. It’s wet, so I wrap it in toilet paper as best I can and shove it into one of my front pockets.
And I hope like hell it doesn’t seep through the toilet paper and give me away. At least it’s blue and my jeans are blue. Maybe it’ll just look like I pissed myself a little.
I turn off the water, making sure I leave a little of the tablet on my fingertips. If I can get near the driver’s eyes, perhaps I can get him.
A paperclip would be better. A nail file. Tweezers. A razor blade would be great.
But all I have is a toilet cleaning tablet that looks like a large blue Alka-Seltzer.
I leave the bathroom and close the door.
“Took you long enough.”
“Did you want me not to wash my hands?”
For a moment I fear he may actually want to see my hands. But he doesn’t. Good. I don’t need him to see the bit of dried tablet powder.
“Now what?” I say.
“What makes you think you can ask questions?”
“You just did.” I’m being a smartass. Not my best move, but I’ve been on the other end of this so often that I’m used to being a smartass. “What’s your name?”
“I think that’s a question.”
I say nothing more as I follow him back through the hallway to the kitchen.
“You need anything else to eat?”
“No.”
“You may want to reconsider your answer. I don’t know when I’ll be able to offer you food again.”
“In that case, sure.”
He heads to a kitchen cupboard and pulls out a couple of granola bars. “Here.”
“What am I supposed to do with these?”
“Hold onto them. Or put them in your pocket.”
Pocket? I’m not putting anything that may be going into my mouth in the pocket with the half-dissolved toilet tablet.
“My pockets aren’t big enough. I’ll just hold onto them.”
“Suit yourself.”
He doesn’t tell me to follow him, but I do. What else am I supposed to do?
“Where’s King?” I ask.
“You keep thinking you can ask questions here.”
“We both know why I’m here. We both know you have Katelyn. We both know King wants me dead.”
“If we both know, why are you asking me so many questions?”
“Look, I don’t care about myself. Do what you want to me. Make me suffer all kinds of horrible stuff. Just let her go.”
“It’s not up to me, dude.”
Dude? Strange. I wonder if this guy could potentially be a friend.
“What are you doing here, man?” I ask.
“My job.”
“Take it from someone who knows. You’re going to live to regret this.”
“That’s not for you to say.”
“Hey, we both know it’s too late for me. But you can still get out.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I chuckle at that. Seriously chuckle, even in my current circumstances. “Man, I’m the one guy who does know.”
He doesn’t reply. Why should he? He and I both know I speak the truth.
We head down a spiral staircase to what I assume is a basement. Still, I’m amazed I’m not blindfolded. Just further evidence that my fate is sealed. King and I both know I’m not getting out of here alive, so it doesn’t really matter whether I know where I am and can describe what I’ve seen.
