Chapter 13 Penny
Penny
Whatever Penny had been expecting a hitman to look like, it wasn’t this.
Roman filled the screen with an easy smile, lounging on an overstuffed sofa.
His dark brown hair was delightfully mussed, as though he’d just woken up, but it was his neck and exposed shoulders her gaze was drawn to.
Not because he looked as though he’d been carved from marble; he did, but he was also covered in a random assortment of adorable animal tattoos.
“You do realise it’s two o’clock in the morning here, right? ”
“Yeah, yeah.” Rhys balanced the phone against one of the steel platters as the two of them took a seat at the table. “I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important.” He frowned at the phone. “Also—when did you get all those tattoos?”
Roman’s smile grew wider as he leant backwards, revealing yet more animals. “Do you like them?”
“I mean…” Rhys shrugged. “I’ve seen worse, I guess.”
“Your mother bought Lucie a pack of temporary tattoos, and I was her chosen guinea pig.”
“Ah.”
Roman rested an elbow on the back of the sofa, propping up his chin with his fist. “I have a question.”
“Yep?” Rhys answered.
“There are two of you, but only one bed. Well done, Rhys, very original. Am I to congratul—?”
Penny sat up like a bolt of lightning had zapped through her spine, looking behind her at the bed. She hadn’t thought twice about it being in the background until that moment. “No, no, no, we didn’t sleep together.”
On the screen, Roman snorted. “Oh, so the one bed trick didn’t even work?
Rhys, that is tragic, mate.” He turned his head, and for the first time, Penny saw the scar bisecting his brow.
It hinted at the violence inherent in his profession—even as he beamed with glee.
“The guys are going to be devastated for you when I tell them.”
She could feel the heat coming off Rhys’s bright-red cheeks. “There’s nothing to tell. It’s not like that.”
“If you say so.” Roman winked and tapped his nose. “Anyway,” he exhaled, formality entering his posture. “George Chomsky. I’ve reached out to a few friends to see what they know and how much of a threat he poses.”
Rhys sat up slightly. “And?”
On the screen, Roman grimaced. “Well, it’s not ideal.
My friend says he’s one of London’s main importers of drugs and firearms. His brother’s appointment as police commissioner makes things trickier.
Chomsky does have extensive ties to serving police officers.
There are classic signs of corruption in his asset sales—they’ve gone for up to double the asking price, usually bought by overseas billionaires.
And then there’s his track record with employees… ”
“What about it?” Rhys asked, his hand sliding along the back of her chair.
“Across his business portfolio, four employees have gone missing in the last six months.”
Her heart almost juddered to a stop, forgetting about Rhys’s touch across her spine. “Then why aren’t the police investigating?”
Roman’s lips pressed together. “They have investigated. There’s no evidence of Chomsky being involved, officially. They’ve only found one body—pulled out of the Thames not long ago, if I recall correctly.”
“So what do we do?” Her voice almost cracked.
“Rhys said this all started after you downloaded a video. It was just some guy being killed, right?”
“Yeah,” Penny rasped, trying to ignore it as it replayed in her mind. Just some guy being killed, like it was Tuesday for him. “They…” Her brain connected the dots. They’d pushed him in the Thames afterwards. Was that the guy the police had found? “They shot him in the head.”
Roman mussed his hair, his eyes low in what looked like exhaustion. “Do you still have a copy of the video?”
“No, it was on my laptop. I had to leave it behind when Bielak—one of the security guards—tried to kill me.”
“Did it have a password on it? The laptop?”
“Of course.”
“Like…” Roman paused. “What kind of password are we talking about here?”
“A normal password from a password generator? Just twenty digits of gibberish.”
Rhys turned to her with his eyebrows raised. “I’m sorry, twenty digits?”
“The password to unlock your laptop?” Roman asked incredulously.
She nodded, feeling the familiar sensation of embarrassment crawling over her skin as she realised she’d said something out of the ordinary. It was a sensation she’d often felt in school, but not as an adult. “Well, yeah. Isn’t that what everyone does?”
“No!” Rhys laughed. “No wonder you work late if it takes you an hour to type your fucking password in.”
“And it’s just random characters?” Roman leant towards the screen. “Not your dog’s birthday or Q-W-E-R-T-Y or some shit?”
Rhys gestured towards his phone. “Exactly, the password to my phone is literally 0-0-0-0.”
Embarrassment fled as an opportunity presented itself. In which case, I can change that hideous background screen of his. “Those passwords could be guessed by a child. Thankfully, yes, my laptop is secure. Unlike everything owned by the two of you, apparently.”
A residual grin still rested on Rhys’s face, but Roman took the hint to move on. “And do you use cloud storage?”
“Yes.” In light of their furore over her password, she elected not to share that her files were backed up twice over. She didn’t think a hitman would take the time to back up his files.
Halfway through that thought, Penny realised what Roman was getting at, her jaw slackening. “You think I could still have a copy of the file?”
Roman gave her a wink. “Bingo.”
Where had she left her phone? Penny hurried over to the bedside table to collect it, searching through the latest uploads to her cloud storage.
The bottom dropped out of her stomach as the dock flashed onto her screen.
She paused it before any of the men appeared, handing her phone over to Rhys.
“I have it. I don’t want to listen to it again. ”
“Send it in the group chat, Rhys.” Roman’s request was far too casual for her liking, but apparently it showed on her face. “I don’t want to watch it out of curiosity. I want to have multiple copies of it in case…”
Penny swallowed. “In case something happens to me.”
“In case something happens to your phone,” Rhys interjected, holding her gaze with gentle affection.
“Can I ask?” Roman’s voice broke through. “Do you have any family, Penny?”
She finally looked away. The word family felt like a punch to the gut.
It always had. It was always Dad and Elaine’s excuse—no matter what Joseph had done, Penny had to forgive him because they were family.
It had always been her giving and their taking, until there was nothing left of her at all.
“None that I care about,” she replied, unsure of how long she’d taken to answer.
“None?” Rhys asked quietly. Kindly. She hated it.
“No.” She threw the word at him. “Why?”
Roman didn’t seem fazed at her answer. “Because Chomsky might try to get to you through them, but if you don’t have any, then it’s happy days.
” He clapped his hands together. “Regarding the two of you, though, they’re obviously tracking you.
Go and stay in my flat; it’s locked down tight, and your biometrics are already on the system, Rhys.
For now, turn off your devices. Hire a rental car. Use your burner phones.”
“Normal people don’t have burner phones, Roman.”
Roman rolled his eyes at Rhys. “Well then, buy them. I’m sure you can afford it.
As for sorting this out in the long term, Dex—the friend I mentioned, who found all the information on Chomsky—has offered to help.
He’s a private investigator, but his wife, Laila, is a freelance journalist. This is exactly her area of expertise, but they can’t be in London for few days.
She’d do a recorded interview with you, Penny, if you’re up to it. ”
She nodded. Her life as it was had ceased to exist; since escaping Bielak, her only goal had been to survive another day. This was offering her a chance to return to normality. “Absolutely.”
“Good. So the plan is to turn off your devices, hire a car, and go to my flat. I’ll text your burners when Dex and Laila give me a date. Oh.” Roman pointed at them through the phone. “One condition of staying in my flat: don’t look in the chest in the wardrobe.”
Penny caught Rhys’s eye. She hadn’t been planning on it, but now her curiosity had been piqued.
“Is it horrifying or sexual?” Rhys frowned.
“Can’t it be both?” Roman gave a casual wink. “Anyway, it’s like two in the morning here, so I’m going back to bed with your brother and our wife. Try not to get killed.” The last thing they saw before the call ended was Roman blowing them a kiss.
She let the question ruminate in her head for all of three seconds before she loosened it. “Did he say our?”