24
I had a resoundingly peaceful sleep , considering the conversation before I went to bed and the trauma from the fire. Even though I went to bed with Cormac, I woke up alone. The time on my phone is after 8 AM, and he would’ve gone to swim training early. We didn’t fuck last night because I felt too unwell after the fire; my throat is still raspy and sore and my eyes gritty, and still, my skin feels scorched even though I can’t find any burn marks.
He held me in his arms and stroked my back, whispering sweet nothings, before I nodded off to sleep. Cormac is a good man; even though he has dubious tendencies, no one is perfect. He never admitted if he was hands-on as far as paedo-killing traits were concerned. Still, when I think back to times he had to dash off unexpectedly after a secretive phone call, then I wonder if he was there participating in the slaying in the basement, too. They were there the whole time. Watching me. And I love it.
As per normal, as if I have a permanent crick in my neck, I turn to look at Gabe’s bedroom door to find that it closed, unsurprisingly. My curiosity urges me to walk there and try the handle to find it locked, like usual. I shouldn’t be disenchanted, but I am.
Downstairs is empty, so it looks like I’m here alone but probably being watched by their hidden cameras dotted about the house. Blackadder will be disappointed that he didn’t burn us alive in the killing house, so he’s likely to keep trying until I’m toast to shut me up. I guess he didn’t bargain on me having protectors that could give Spiderman a run for his money.
I flick on the coffee machine and water the houseplants that Gabe hasn’t noticed while the machine warms up. My throat feels slightly better, but I consume more cough medicine to soothe it. Then, I search the cupboards for throat lozenges, but they come up empty.
The front door opens and closes, and I poke my head out from the kitchen to find Blake standing there expectantly but frowns when those eyes run up and down my sleepwear. “You’re not ready yet?”
“For what?” I ask as he checks the time on his phone.
“I sent you a message. There’s been a change of plans. The Crow is heading to his mistress’s place a day early. Hurry up, get yourself up those stairs, and change. Quick smart. We’ve got work to do.”
“But I’m not ready, Blake. You saw that I still need work shooting that long-range rifle,” I argue in a panic. He seriously believes I can hit the target after practicing for only a few hours.”
“What I saw, Rae, was someone who hit those cans more times than you missed.” He used that panty-dropping charisma to convince me, and let’s face it, it often works. You’ve got style, girl. Now get up those stairs and put on some appropriate clothing.”
“Like what?” I ask, wondering if there’s a special serial killer uniform one must wear.
“A top that’s not see-through for starters. I can see your nipples from here,” he claps his hand to hurry me along. “Haven’t got all day, sweetheart.”
I drop what I’m doing and run upstairs, excited that I’m going to erase the big, ugly Crow sucker from my list. The further up the list I go, the more difficult the target, but to see that solid lump fall like a hunk of timber will be utterly rewarding.
Once I’m at the top of the stairs, I look back to catch those twinkling brown eyes watching my backside wiggle. “Will Gabe and Cormac be there?”
“Nope,” he replies swiftly. “Just you and me and an AK47. The romance will be like no other.”
“I’m sure it will be,” I mutter with a smile, heading into my room to find some clothes to put on. I’ll miss class again, but luckily, I don’t have a shift in the gardens to phone in and say I can’t make it. I’m already on thin ice with my boss.
Quickly, I checked my phone to find messages from Blake and Z asking if I was okay after the fire.
Me: I guess we’re out of a job now.
Z: Maybe Smiler could find an alternative location.
That’s a possibility, I suppose. However, I don’t know how wealthy Gabe is and whether or not that house was bought under his name and is insured. I still don’t understand how someone got the lackey’s number to message Z to do a job. Maybe Blake will know. What am I thinking? Smiler’s lackeys are Cormac and Blake, and Smiler is Gabe. It’s going to take me a while to get used to that.
“Hurry up,” Blake’s voice calling from downstairs, so I pull myself away from my phone screen, brush my hair and tie it up into a ponytail to keep it out of my eyes, and decide to wear khaki-colored military-style shorts and a dark blue T-shirt for camouflage. I haven’t had the chance to bathe, so I slather the deodorant and make sure my underwear is nice and fresh.
“Ready?” he asks as I run back down the stairs with my bag loaded with my Glock, spare underwear, wallet, phone, and other essentials.
“Sure am,” I reply, eager to go on this adventure.
After locking up the house, we pile into his truck, and he leans over and kisses my cheek, making my body sizzle. “You smell nice,” he states, burying his nose into my neck.
“I haven’t bathed this morning, so what you’re smelling is my natural sweat,” I chuckle to see if he’ll cringe.
He cocks his eyebrows with that devilish, dimpled smile, “Natural is the best.” Putting the truck into gear, he backs out of the driveway, then drives to the end of the road and turns left, away from the road that curves around the lake towards the inner city.
“How long will it take to get there?” I ask curiously as exhilaration rises at the thought of knocking off that filthy hulk.
“A couple of hours, but we have a stop along the way to change the vehicle,” he explains, slamming his foot to the floor to increase speed as we exited the open road.
“Insight of a thief,” I crow, winding my window down an inch to let fresh air in. “Swapping vehicles to evade someone identifying you.”
“Correct. One must always cover their tracks,” he replies smoothly. “For example, it pays to have an airtight alibi. Where are you right now?”
“Huh? I’m here in your car,” I state. Am I missing something?
“No, you’re not, Rae. You’re not here with me at all. You are at home or uni,” he clarifies. “Whatever you decide, you’ve got to stick to it. Don’t change your story if you were to be questioned by police.”
“Okay,” I decide to change my tune. “Then, in case I’m at home having a shower, I went to… I can’t say I went to class because they would be witnesses, wouldn’t they? Mind you, I doubt they’d notice me not being there.”
“I’m sure they would, Rae. You’re an impressive woman to look at, so they’d likely notice when the Scandinavian maiden hasn’t graced their space,” he croons, and I crack up laughing.
“Hardly. The Scandinavian maiden is soon to be a serial killer. Strike one - The Lion. Strike two -The Crow with The Pig porked in-between thanks to you,” I rattle off, feeling satisfied that my list is shrinking.
“You haven’t done the job yet,” he reminds me. “And I might be taking the shot anyway, so you haven’t succeeded yet.”
“I don’t care who kills him. As long as the job is done,” I say honestly. “And that’s the truth.”
His hand finds my thigh, and I smile as a coil of warmth spirals through my chest and stomach, making me feel loved and wanted. “We’ll see. I’ll guide you the entire time and signal when you need to take the shot. We might have a window of a few seconds, so if you don’t think you can take the shot, you must tell me. Okay?”
“Okay,” I sigh, noticing the rifles in jackets lying on the back seat, which raises a question I haven’t received an explanation for. “Who sends messages to Z when there’s a job to do?”
“Me,” he replies, pointing to the glove compartment to indicate where he normally keeps it. “I had a special phone for that purpose only.”
“So, how did Blackadder get your phone to send a message to Zara?’ I ask, slightly paranoid, because it just doesn’t make sense.
“Blackadder doesn’t do the menial tasks; he hires someone to do them. And that phone was stolen a couple of nights ago when someone broke into my truck while it was parked outside my apartment,” he explains. “They smashed the window, and honestly, I thought it was random until I saw the phone missing. I’ve gotten into the habit of checking my vehicle for trackers as well. I check your little speedster often, too, without your knowledge. That is one of the reasons Gabe decided to be upfront with you as we were getting too many close calls, and obviously, with us associating with you, Blackadder’s lackeys were moving in closer on us.”
“Oh?” my heart sinks. “So, Blackadder knows about you. I thought you were running under the radar undetected?”
“We were, but we think that changed when you moved in with Gabe, so they looked a little closer at who we are and started following us.” He shrugs nonchalantly like it’s no big deal, which I find perplexing. The thief takes everything in his stride, laidback and uninterested in worrying about a single thing because what is the point in worrying.
“So, I led Blackadder to you in a way?” Guilt stirs in my gut as I speak, and I automatically glance behind us to see if anyone is following.
“We’re not being followed,” he confirms. “I’ve been watching since I left my place. And yes, you did lead Blackadder to us, which is part of the plan.”
“Oh?” I exclaim. “It was a plan.”
“Yeah, well, on the one hand, we needed to protect you from them, and on the other hand, we knew Blackadder’s curiosity would pique when you moved in with a well-known sex offenders’ detective,” he answers, turning off the main road onto a dirt track. “One of our vehicle swaps is behind that red barn.”
He parks his truck behind the barn, where a red sedan sits waiting. We take everything out of his truck and pile it into the red sedan, and then we’re on the road again.
“I’m just drinking all of this in,” I crow. “One oh One on how to be a criminal.”
“Wrong,” he corrects me. “It’s one oh one on how to be an effective criminal that doesn’t get caught.”
“Right. As long as all evidence leads back to Blackadder, then who cares, right?” I say, breathing over a brick of nerves arising during this conversation.
“We’ll always have your back, Rae,” he says assuredly as his hand finds my thigh again.
“But I didn’t know…” I check myself. Of course, I knew. I knew all along. “Actually, I did know. I did know I was being followed, especially after I was jumped in the parking garage and then when my apartment was broken into. There have been several times when someone came to my door but didn’t knock, and then there was a guy attacking women in my building, but I don’t know if that has anything to do with Blackadder. There were also times where I felt like I was being followed while driving places, but I put it down to paranoia.”
“Weeell…” he drags the word out and winks at me, and I know he’s about to divulge something spicy. “Some of those times you were being followed could’ve been us checking up on ya.”
“Truth’s coming out now, ain’t it. Sunshine is like disinfectant on a wound,” I dish out, unbothered by his confession.
He grins and switches the sound system on. An old country tune is playing—a man singing about Folsom Prison.
“Johnny Cash,” Blake informs me. “Way before our time, but always timeless.”
“Interesting coincidence,” I snicker lightheartedly, even though it does disturb me slightly. “We’re about to commit the most serious of crimes, and what song happens to be playing on the radio…”
“Reading into every little thing will only make you crazy, baby,” he chimes, patting my thigh to comfort me.