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If someone looked closer, they might notice one of the rooms looked smaller than it should. That one of the walls seemed strangely angled. But only if they really looked closer.
But why would they? In that particular room, a carcass of a dead rat lay on the stained carpet. Vile threats and promises of sexual depravity were spray-painted on the torn wallpapered walls. The room, like the rest of the house, didn’t invite lingering inspection.
I crossed that room now, heading for the back corner.
The rat was still there. Just as dead. Just as disgusting in its decomposed state. I’d paid a lot of money for it to look that way. To look so gross no one would want to approach it.
The mechanism to open the panic-room door was concealed behind the rat’s repulsive body, a small button on the skirting board. I pressed it.
A soft whirring noise filled the musty room and a hidden panel on the wall opened, revealing a small security panel.
Outside, the evening breeze blew against the windows, rattling the glass in the frames.
I listened to the noise, making certain it was just the wind disturbing the house, and then keyed in the code.
A narrow door opened a fraction on my right and white light streamed through the crack from the other side.
Chest heavy, I stepped into the room, all too aware I was stepping back into my old life.
The last time I’d been here, I’d been covered in someone else’s blood and dealing with a broken clavicle. I’d fixed the splintered bone as well as I could until Lila arrived, and washed the blood off me in the small shower located in the room’s corner.
There was no evidence now I’d been there then.
Lila had clearly been here in the interim, cleaned it up, restocked the shelves—food, water, triage equipment, and medical supplies—getting the room ready to be used again.
Fuck. Why did I feel like shit at the thought?
Because she knew I’d never escape my old life, no matter how much I tried?
This hidden safe room, independently powered and connected to the net, could keep a person off the grid for a week. It had kept me from those looking for me for longer more than once.
Tonight, it was only going to be used as a meeting point. A place for Lila and me to plan my next move.
When I next walked out of this room, it would be to kill Rufie. To end the shit of who I’d once been. To end any threat that might come Ronnie’s way.
Washing my hands, I studied my face in the mirror above the basin.
Fuck. I didn’t like the guy lookin
g back at me. Thank fucking God Ronnie would never meet him.
A soft click behind me made me spin, half crouched, the Glock I’d worn at the small of my back for the trip in my hand.
“You need to get quicker than that if you’re going to walk away from this alive, Lucas,” Lila said, stepping into the room through the narrow opening.
“Fuck, Lila.” I shoved the gun back into my jeans’ waistband. “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you. A warning would be nice next time.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Your Trinity friends won’t give you a warning. Why should I?”
Good point.
I frowned at her. “What are you doing here so soon?”
“Did you really think I was in New York?”
Another good point.
“Do you have a plan?” she asked, moving to the bed. She sat on it, as if sitting on a throne. Only one person in my entire life scared me, and she was looking at me now with a calm interest. Thank fucking God she was on my side.
