Chapter 24
It takes me five seconds total to pretend I’m busy looking around the apartment after I’ve closed the door behind me. It’s bare and looks like no one has stayed here in years. The cabinets are empty, and the only things in the fridge are exactly three beers, which will not do.
I turn to face Crew again. He leans forward, unzipping the duffel bag, and pulls out a large knife and a sharpening kit. He pretends to be busy perfecting the already razor-sharp blade, doing a fantastic job of ignoring me with a coldness that nearly makes me shiver.
“What else is in the bag?” I ask.
He cuts his eyes toward me, never stopping the sharpening of the blade. “Our stuff for a few days.”
I panic, remembering that I left without bringing a single item.
“Things for me?”
“Assuming Damien was nice enough to pack your stuff.” He shrugs. “Don’t know. Don’t really give a shit.”
“You will if I don’t have fresh clothes for a few days.”
“Then don’t wear any,” Crew responds, acting uninterested in the matter.
“Okay, then.” I huff a laugh. “Being naked doesn’t bother me. You already saw my nipples.”
Crew stiffens.
I walk in front of him, and his gaze tracks me everywhere I go, as if he’s expecting me to attack. I slowly lift the duffel bag, ignoring the dull ache in my body, and I'm shocked by how heavy it is. I turn to head toward the small bedroom, but pause momentarily.
Just talk to him, Mara. Use your fucking words like a normal person.
I continue to the bedroom, fully assessing the living arrangements. The bed is full-sized, the sheets are questionable, and the bathroom features only a single sink, a cabinet, and a bathtub—no shower.
Great. My burns will feel awful in that.
My prison cell was homier than this apartment.
“So?” I clear my throat.
“What are you doing?” he asks, spinning to watch me. Crew rotates the knife between his fingers.
“Unpacking?” I give him a condescending look. “Do you want to help? Or are you sharpening that to stab me?”
He leans up, spinning the blade. “I’m trying to decide.”
“Awesome.” I raise my brows in challenge. “Let me know what you decide, but make it quick.”
“I won’t do anything quickly.” He glares at me. “Especially regarding you.”
I ignore his words and roll my eyes.
He props his arm over the back of the loveseat. “We’ll be here for a few days.”
“Yes,” I respond. “And?”
“Why would you unpack?”
“Please tell me you aren’t one of those people who would choose to live out of a suitcase. I prefer to have my things laid out.”
“I couldn’t care less if my T-shirts are wrinkled,” Crew replies.
“Shocker.”
“I look good in literally anything,” he says in monotone. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
His statement catches me off guard, and I cackle. Crew Bannermin made me laugh, and I hate myself for it, so I quickly swallow it down with a cough. “You are quite hideous.”
I smirk but hide it.
“You are too,” he responds.
A chuckle rolls off my tongue, and I turn my back to him.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” he says, still watching me.
The joy dies in my throat as I face him. “Do what?”
“Laugh,” he says.
“When something is funny, I can.”
“Well, it hasn’t happened before. And I’m hilarious,” he responds.
I return to unpacking the bag and grab one of his massive T-shirts. “No, you aren’t.”
“Who’s the liar now?” He swipes the blade across the whetstone.
“Not me,” I snap, pulling out another item of Crew’s.
God, we are so fucking awkward.
I hear the long knife scrape across the whetstone again, and the sound nearly makes my teeth clash together. A shiver runs up my spine from the terrible noise, and I glare toward where he sits.
“Can you stop?” I shout into the living room.
“I could,” he replies.
I hear the knife drag along the stone again, and it’s as if he’s applied all the pressure he can without snapping the blade.
“But I won’t.”
Dick.
“You don’t have to do that for my things,” he says. “Just leave them.”
“Relax, Bannermin,” I say, trying to focus on the task at hand. “Folding your underwear is my entertainment.”
“Please stop,” Crew responds.
“Briefs, guy,” I say, as I pull a pair from the bag. “Called it.”
“Fucking help me,” I hear him mumble. He sighs, then stands, dropping the knife and whetstone onto the table with a clang. Moving toward the kitchen, I hear something rustling in a drawer. His foul mood is palpable from here, and I resist the urge to storm in and demand that he talk to me.
I hear the radio click on, and the small apartment fills with loud music. Blasting rock floods the space and kills any chance we had of a conversation.
Well, at least it’s a good song.
I sigh, separating my clothes from Crew’s huge wardrobe on the bed. Various toiletries were also neatly packed into the bag, and I quietly thank Damien for thinking of everything I might need over the next few days.
I organize everything by mine or Crew’s and pause when I reach the bottom of the duffel, pulling out a ridiculous sexy pajama set. A note falls from the small bundle of fabric.
Wear this.
Crew will forgive you quickly.
Then send me a picture.
-Daddy D
I crumble the note and toss it.
“Fuck you, Damien,” I whisper, shoving them back into the bag.
I take a moment to stay busy, ensuring everything is in order. I begin to move my hips to the beats of the music, letting myself get lost in the work before me and the song moving through the apartment. The song builds, and I whip my hair around as I fold a T-shirt.
“Are you seriously dancing?” Crew says, his presence looming in the doorway.
“No,” I respond, setting down the folded shirt.
“Good.” He crosses his arms. “Because I wouldn’t call that dancing, either.”
“Oh, shut the hell up,” I bite back. “You are the one with two left feet.”
“How incredibly wrong of you.” He turns, disappearing into the living room once more.
I pull back the bed, fluff the pillows, and think of anything I can do to keep myself occupied until we head out tonight. Another song comes on the radio, and it’s slower this time. A dark bass thrumming through the space absolutely kills the mood from the upbeat tune before.
“Crew,” I call. “Can we talk?”
I hear the door slam over the music from the living room and peek my head around the doorframe.
“I think we need to discuss a few things. A lot of things.”
No response.
“Bannermin? Don’t ignore me.”
But the apartment is empty, and he’s gone, along with his knife. The door is shut, and I notice a small note resting on the worn wooden table. The music continues to fill the room, and I walk over to the radio and click it off. The silence is deafening as I snatch up the note.
“You have to be fucking kidding me,” I say aloud.
Went scouting. Do not leave.
Be back later,
Sincerely,
-Your crash test dummy.
He left me without saying a word.
Irritation washes over me, and the apartment feels cramped, like the tight walls are pressing against me, and suddenly my emotions seem too vast for this small space. I quickly open every window, letting the cool breeze flow in as I focus on my breathing.
That motherfucker.
But then again, how mad can I truly be at him?
Crew owes me less than nothing, and after how horrible I’ve been to him, he has every right to be cold. But from what I’ve seen of his usually amusing personality, this is colder than ice. We need to discuss a lot of things, and he’s doing whatever he can to avoid that—to avoid me.
With absolutely nothing else to do, I look around the apartment for the fifth time.
I unmake and remake the bed, ensuring it’s clean.
I dust the furniture, try to turn on the television without success, reorganize our clothes, and arrange all toiletries neatly in the limited bathroom space we have before I run myself a bath to see how my back feels in the water.
I glance at the clock through the bedroom door and am shocked at how little time has passed. It’s 10 A.M., so two hours have gone by. Today is dragging, and there’s been no sign of Crew returning.
I lean my head back against the porcelain tub and close my eyes, feeling the pain move through my back.
How did I end up in this tiny apartment, forced to stay with Crew Bannermin?
I reflect on the assignments that will keep us away from Halcyon City for a few days, and if you ask me, it seems Lowell and Carver are doing this on purpose. The individuals we are here to eliminate aren’t that important, outside of one.
A retired CEO who had moved to the suburbs from Halcyon City for a quiet life—but has done anything but. In his younger years, he murdered three women and never got caught. He’ll be the first one I take out.
The other is a nobody demon—a Void—who has made poor decisions.
If you ask me, it’s a waste of time. The High Elders must be desperate.
However, one name makes me pause—Haber. I know that last name from Riggs—it must be a relative of his—and I immediately feel nauseous, because the Haber family has everything to do with why I ended up in jail to begin with.
My eyes grow heavy, and the warm water curls around me like a hug. I prop my feet on the side of the tub and sink farther into the water. With nothing else to do, a nap won’t hurt, so I close my eyes and let the darkness welcome me with the peaceful silence of sleep.
Ijolt awake, shivering from the freezing water I’m still submerged in. My teeth chatter, and I glance around, frantic at how long I’ve slept. I stand up, wrapping a towel around my cold body, and look at the clock—2 P.M. I slept for four hours.
What the fuck.
I step out of the tub and peek around the doorframe.
“Crew? You here?”
The living room and kitchen are empty, and there is no sign he has returned today. Annoyance floods me, making my system even icier, and I move back into the bedroom. I pull out a fresh pair of clothes, dry my hair, and take my time redoing any beauty steps I can with the products Damien provided.