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She looks like she might fucking piss herself. But instead, she gives another slow nod. Connor’s eyes trail down to her parted lips for half a beat before finally letting her go. Sunny staggers back, rubbing her chin but says nothing, tears welling in her rounded eyes.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Connor orders and without a second glance he stalks to the door leaving a trembling Sunny in his wake.
I’m fighting every cell in my body not to approach her and take her into my arms. Instead, I steel my expression while her eyes travel back to mine. Her hand falls to her neck as she notices the scar around my own. She continues to stare, a sudden blaze igniting in her eyes, while I’m still rooted in place.
I can’t tell if the fear in her eyes is directed at me or a lingering effect from her cozy encounter with Connor but it kills me all the same. I don’t want her to fear me. But there’s nothing I can say that will assuage the fact that she just witnessed her boss get dragged out of the bar, pissed-soaked and whimpering. I take a deep breath and close my eyes for half a second, trying to break the spell I’m in. Then, I look at her one final time, turn, and walk out the bar.
Chapter 6
Sunny
Iclosemyapartmentdoor with a soft snick. I can still feel the tremor in the tips of my cold fingers as I lock the door. And then the deadbolt just to be extra safe.
I watched the sun rise from the dirty slatted windows of Sammies while the cops interrogated me about Gary. I had to call them…how else would I explain his disappearance to the rest of the staff? Lenix especially.
They tried to access the cameras installed throughout the place, only to discover that the footage had been wiped clean. It made it that much easier to lie. What else could I say but half-truths anyway?
No, I couldn’t remember their faces. No, I didn’t remember any distinct features. No, I hadn’t known Gary was hiding from dangerous criminals.
The last one was the truth at least. What the hell had Gary been running from for these men to find him and threaten him like that? A deep shudder wracks my shoulders.
I’m exhausted.
My body can’t stop shivering and I keep getting annoyed by it like this is all an overreaction. As if I didn’t just witness a man deliver cold promises of a painful death to my boss. I mean, Gary wasn’t the best of dudes, but he didn’t deserve to die. Not like this.
I choke out a sob, heavy tears falling over my cheeks and down my neck. I need a shower. If only to wash away the memories of last night. I slink over to my small kitchen first and grab a half empty bottle of wine from the fridge. It’s not even seven in the morning but I currently don’t give a fuck. I take a large swig straight from the bottle, making a left into the hallway before closing the bathroom door behind me.
I peel off my clothes and chuck them straight into the trash. I don’t want a reminder of last night anywhere near me ever again. I turn on the water, the steam from the shower billowing out as I tuck the bottle of wine under my arm and climb in. I stand under the scorching water, breathing the humid air into my lungs. My head hangs limp as I watch the water spill over my body, before lying down at the bottom of the tub, the wine at my lips and my eyes closed.
While in the company of the cops, I was unwilling to let my mind wander but now, in the somewhat safety of the shower, it’s hard not to. I don’t want to think about theotherthing.
I can’t help but to conjure up the memory of his face. If I could have told the truth without the fear of being found and killed, I would have answeredyes. Yes, one of the kidnappers did have a distinct feature.
The one with the shaved head. The one who looked like he’d seen a ghost when his light green eyes had finally bothered to land on me.Afterhe had promised Gary a slow painful death that sounded like revenge.
My body shudders again at the thought and I let out a long sigh. He had a dapper elegance to his gait, a strange contrast to the sharp edges of his tattoos peeking out of his black hoodie and onto his hands.
His blazing stare had both made my blood boil and freeze over again. Had peeled off my skin and stitched me back up in the span of half a glance. He seemed almost desperate to speak up when his friend held my face in his hand, but said nothing instead.
Yeah. That one.
Even here under the hard spray of the water, I can remember that distinct feature clearly. A scar slashed across his neck, as if his throat had been slit—and somehow survived.
But I didn’t need the scar to remember him. I’d easily make him out in a crowd—if I ever had the misfortune of coming across him again, that is.
Now that the shock has worn off, my brain has gone fuzzy. But the image of him hasn’t. Even his friend, who clutched my face in his hands and spoke words so cold it froze my spine, feels hazy compared to him. No, his face haunts me, even now.
I shake away the thought, standing up and stepping out of the shower. I wrap a towel around myself, the bottle of wine tucked under my arm as I pad towards my bed. After changing into the coziest clothes I can find, I fall into the covers. My wet hair splays around me, soaking into the pillowcase.
Like I care. I polish off the wine, wrap myself tight under the covers and fall into a fitful sleep full of threats and menace.
Chapter 7
Byzantine
ThebrassknucklesI’mwearing collide with Gary’s face. He whimpers, his split lip dripping blood onto the plastic tarp, a mumble of words pouring out of his mouth, and his cheekbone most likely broken.
After dragging him out from Sammies, we brought him back to Connor’s. His house—an architect's dream—sits right in the middle of one the most affluent neighborhoods in Noxport, near the water. His yacht club neighbors willfully ignorant of the less than legal business we conduct behind the thick cement walls of the basement. I own a condo downtown but I practically live here, Bastian too.
