16. Scuttering
Chapter sixteen
Scuttering
Charlie
Three months later.
AVxtail/9: Some information that might be of interest to you. Meet tonight, midnight. Pin attached.
xxSass29: Thanks.
Walking toward an old building on the outskirts of town in the dead of night, in hindsight, is probably not one of my best ideas. I’m prepared. I have a weapon—a can of pepper spray—tucked into the back of my jeans, plus the skills I’ve learned during my time in the MMA world.
I should be, okay? Shouldn’t I?
It does nothing to stop my heart from racing, no matter how many times I reassure myself.
Fuck. If the guys find out I'm here, they will never let me leave my apartment again. Ever. This is the very definition of putting myself at risk. Something I promised I would never do. I lied obviously.
I’ve spent the last few months tracking a couple that used to live in one of the apartments opposite a house fire victim. The fire itself was ruled as an accident by the fire department, but I’ve noticed a signature between three accidental fires so far. It’s only small, but I have a feeling it’s something. All the victims have a link to the organisation to some degree. Either through where they worked or an affiliation to someone who does.
They never see it coming.
The couple had a camera overlooking the road out front. I need to see what was on that footage. They moved within a day of the fire, left their place to be sold by an estate agent and have not been seen since. I found them with some help on the dark web, from a friend of mine. If you can call people on the dark web friends. They always seem to have the information I need.
Shitting hell, it's dark in here. Creepy as fuck too. Standing just inside the door, I let my eyes adjust to the dark. After a minute, I can make out the room—empty, dirty with lots of broken furniture, but void of any life.
Fuck.
I don’t know whether to be relieved or pissed off that there is no one here. But my dark web friend’s not let me down yet. If it’s a he, that is.
Trying to slow my breathing down, I place my hand over my heart and feel it racing. When my phone pings in my pocket with a notification, I let out a small screech, stumbling at the sound. I curse myself internally for not silencing it before I came out.
AVxtail/9: It’s on the table. Take it and leave as soon as you can.
What fucking table?
Moving around the space, my feet crunching over the leaves that have collected inside. I walk towards the far end of the room, finding another door that creaks as I open it, crouching low before I take a look inside.
This room seems a little brighter, a streetlight outside illuminating it in an orange glow through the broken window. Sweeping my eyes over the space, I spot the table, and on top is a small envelope leaning against a can of mace.
Whoever AVxtail/9 is they always leave me a gift, and it’s always something to protect myself with. I have quite the collection growing at home. I’d like to say I’m smart enough to not have done this before, but I’m not. Since saying yes to Simon, I’ve had to use this process a little too often. But the evidence I have gathered is so valuable. I’ve not even shared it with Simon, for fear of information being leaked to the Summers’ organisation. For now, it’s just my personal collection… until the time comes.
The floorboards creak as I step closer and the scuttering of tiny feet has me shivering at the thought of mice or worse, rats being in here with me.
I run for the envelope, deciding to see what’s inside when I get back home. There's a thrill about doing this, that I love. Don’t get me wrong, it also scares the shit out of me every time. I know what I’m doing is dangerous, but it’s all for the right reasons.
Heading outside quickly and running to my car, I make the drive home.
When I get back, my phone pings with another notification. This time it’s from Leon.
Big T: Where have you been?
Me: Why are you awake at this hour?
Big T: Don’t avoid the question. Where have you been?
Me: I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a drive.
Yep, I’m going to bring out the sympathy card, if he asks me any more questions.
Watching as the dots appear and disappear, I know he wants to rip me a new one, but doesn’t want to piss me off.
Then my phone rings. Shit, I hate having to lie to him . Taking a nervous breath, I answer.
“Good morning, Leon.”
“I guess I should say happy birthday.” It’s past 2 am. I guess that makes today my birthday.
“Thank you.”
“Why can’t you sleep? What’s up?”
Lie, Charlie. Lie like you have never before.
“Oh you know, Owen, life, flowers, work, lists, jobs, the same old things running through my mind like a carousel on speed the moment I close my eyes.” He laughs, but he sounds tired.
“How did you know I was awake and up anyway? I thought we had sorted out this bodyguard shit,” I joke, and he grumbles at the same time. He’s been caught out. “I knew you were still checking up on me, Leon,” I add, huffing.
“I wasn’t checking on you. When I finish work, I do a drive by and see if everything is okay.”
“You check up on me.” It’s a statement.
“Yes, fine, I check up on you. Is that so bad? I don’t do it every night, just every time I leave a job or the office. I want to make sure you’re okay. Okay?”
“Fine, are you going to bed or do you want a coffee? I assume you are close by.”
“You’re inviting me around for a coffee? In the middle of the night. I’m not some hussy you can call and get your kink on with, you know.” This is a side of Leon I never knew. He’s funny. Like really funny.
“Don’t make me puke.” The thought of sleeping with Big T makes me want to vomit. Yes, he’s hot, kind, considerate, and toned as fuck. I think his muscles have muscles. He just reminds me of my brothers too much. “I’m off to bed if you are not coming round. I’ve got a call with Annie in the morning. We’re doing a video chat with coffee and a cake before she has to head into work.”
“I’m not going to be your plaything. Get some sleep and I’ll see you for your birthday surprise.”
Laughing wickedly, he hangs up, but I immediately call him back, shouting when he answers, “I don’t like surprises, Leon, you know this. Last time I almost knocked you out when you surprised me in the shop. I don’t want to do that again.”
“That’s why I’m telling you now, so you’re prepared. Just don’t aim whatever is in your hand at my face this time.”
We're both laughing now. The look on his face when he walked into the storage room last week was priceless. I’d got my earphones in listening to a podcast. I was so lost in what I was doing that when I turned around, all I saw was someone next to me. Instinct kicked in and I threw a huge glass vase at his head. The moment it left my hands, I realised it was him. He tried to duck, while I grabbed for the vase and we ended up on the floor, Leon with a bruised cheek and me apologising profusely. Layla, my new assistant in the shop, walked in a few minutes later. I’m sure she thinks there is something between Leon and I. Especially from the compromising position we’d got ourselves into. She quickly left the room and avoided me for the rest of the day.
“Night, Big T. I’ll be prepared for whatever you’re planning to surprise me with.”
“You need to think of a better nickname for me. That’s shit. I need something that says manly. Big Teddy does not do my street cred any good.”
Ending the call before he really does come round, I pick up my bag and head through the back of the shop. Reaching the kitchen in my apartment, I place the envelope down on the table, making myself a quick drink.
While my tea cools, I tear the envelope open, taking out a file.
The couple in question have been hiding in France for the past year and a half. All the paperwork I need is in place as well as the agreement form from them to use the video footage attached as evidence in the trial. And signed statements. Shit, my contact is good . They always know what I need.
Uploading the file to my laptop from the pen drive, I click on the video. I watch as the man whose house it was enters the front door. Two men appear out of nowhere and follow him inside.
A few minutes pass and nothing happens until I see a fight breaks out through the window of the living room between three men. One, I’m assuming the victim, goes down and they drag him away further into the house. A minute later, they leave and place a small metal object in the ground. Shit, that’s the flower . The signature I’ve been seeing in other fires. They walk away just as the flames start to rise inside the house. Within seconds, the place is engulfed.
I clearly see the faces of the two men who just killed a man. I don’t know the reason he was killed; I doubt I ever will, but this is huge. Identifying the men will have to wait for another night. It’ll take hours to sort through all the faces I have on my laptop. And I need some sleep.