Chapter Ten
One of Tom’s guards escorts me to the elevator. I expect him to climb in too, but he nods and mutters a quick, “Miss Girard,” before the doors close and I descend alone.
After the airy vastness of Tom’s private room, the elevator feels like a tin can.
It’s not as nice as the private elevator Dax usually takes; being slower and not as large probably adds to the claustrophobic atmosphere.
It’s clean though; the citrus scent that permeates the hospital concentrates in the small air-regulated space, and the mirrored doors are free of smudges and fingerprints.
I stare at the reflection thrown back at me. I’m washed-out. This dark hair does nothing for my complexion. My eyes are sunken and dark, but at least my bones aren’t nearly as obvious. No wonder Tom sounded so catty when he’d asked about my hair. This isn’t me.
Tom.
I can’t seem to figure him out. He runs hot and cold, which I’m learning isn’t that unusual for the Nagano brothers, but there’s more to his behaviour than just the spoiled rich boy I always thought of him.
He is just as lonely as Ben, and loyal to a fault, but with no sense of limitation or morality.
I wonder who he would have been if we hadn’t met under stressful circumstances.
Which version of himself does he present when he’s not pretending to be someone else or hiding truths?
The whirring hum of the elevator slows. I haven’t been paying attention and ready myself to disembark, but when the doors open with a rush of invading air, it’s not the parking garage I’m expecting. Instead, a sign declares Floor Thirteen: Burns Unit, and two large men step into view.
Twin pairs of broad shoulders, clad in heavily worn black blazers, embark.
The off the rack suit jackets sold in supermarkets and low-cost retail stores throughout the Vale tell me they are the trouble I’ve been avoiding.
The way they scrutinise me makes all the hairs stand on the back of my neck.
From my crown to my toes, every inch of me falls under the intrusive gaze.
They step inside. I move instinctively nearer the side wall to avoid them, but instead of cowering or trying to hide myself, I gesture to the control panel and ask, “Which floor?”
The one who walks in first has a scar that runs from his right temple to his mouth. It pulls his lips crookedly when he smiles at me. The look is sinister and cruel, but I keep my opinions to myself and breathe steadily.
“Ground,” he replies, looking from me to his partner. “What do you think?” he asks.
His partner shakes his head. “The one we need is blonde, and she wouldn’t be alone.”
I pretend to ignore them and hit the button for the ground floor.
The little disk glows green with a bold capital G.
I stare at it and try not to think about who these guys might be.
It’s a public space, after all. Lots of different people come to the hospital.
Scar could be here to surgically remove the pungent cloud of cologne that got on the elevator with him—though if he’d done that, I’d not be struggling to breathe clean air right now.
The doors close far too slowly, and the car seems to take a whole freaking minute before the whirring hum begins and we move again.
“Good point,” Scar grumbles, frowning. I risk a glance at his reflection in the door. His eyes are on me. “Things are never that easy, huh? I mean, what would it take for her to fall into our laps? I could use the damn bonus.”
Fuck. What are the chances they’re looking for some other blonde girl?
The second man lifts his hand and rubs at his temples, then runs his fingers through his greasy copper-coloured hair. “You and me both. Tracey’s planning our fourth.”
Scar grunts. “She’s barely out of the hospital with your third. You’ve gotta start wrapping your dick up.”
Copper snorts. “Don’t I fucking know it, but the kids keep her busy and off my back.”
“Fuck. I don’t envy you. Screaming babies aren’t for me.”
“Why the hell do you think I’m always at work?”
Scar chuckles as his gaze flits back to me. “What’s your name, pretty girl? Are you a fan of screaming babies or just screaming? Cause I can definitely make you scream.”
The elevator stops again. We all hold our breath in anticipation of who will enter this time. Ninth floor; rheumatology. No one gets on. I can’t tell if I’m relieved or disappointed. A buffer would be great right now, but more henchmen would be all kinds of bad.
The doors close before it even occurs to me that I should have got out. My fingers twitch, ready to hit any number just to escape before they realise who I am, but I’m so damn close to the bottom and running away might make them more suspicious.
How fucking long does it take to drop nine floors, anyway?
“Did you not hear me, or are you blanking me on purpose? Don’t you know it’s rude to ignore someone who’s talking to you?
” He steps forward. I swear the elevator sways as he does, though it’s probably just me wavering on my feet.
His hand clamps down on my shoulder, and he yanks until I’m flat against the side wall and facing him.
“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know you, and I’m a little uncomfortable with the conversation,” I reply, pulling on my best Harrison Heights accent and flicking my eyes between the floor and the man glaring down at me.
“Oh, I get it. You’re too uppity for me?” he starts.
Fuck. Trust him to pick a fight? “I…uh…”
“I thought all you posh girls liked a bit of rough to spice things up and there isn’t anyone rougher than me…”
Copper snorts and whacks Scar’s arm, effectively drawing his eyes from me. “Don’t fuck with the girl, Turner. Jesus, you’re so easily distracted.” I turn back to face the doors but keep my head bowed, only daring to glance at their reflection through my lashes so they can’t see my face.
The eighth floor passes by in whirrs and clunks.
“What? I’m only asking a question!”
“Yeah, well, keep all your questions for this Jules Feelan cunt.”
There it is. Exactly what I was afraid of. I’m pretty sure a groan leaves my lips, but the henches are too busy bantering to notice.
With a wary eye on the descending numbers flickering above the control panel, I pull at the threads of my bandages.
I curl my fingers up awkwardly to pick at them, all the while whispering in my head; I’m safe.
They don’t know who I am. They’ll never suspect a posh girl of being from the Vale.
Keep your head down and get the hell off this elevator.
“That’s if she’s even here. Your snitch could’ve sent us on a freaking goose chase just to fuck with us.” Scar groans.
My ears prick up. Snitch. My eyes dart up to watch their mirror twins once again.
Seventh floor.
Copper rolls his eyes. The gesture is so exaggerated I see it clearly in the reflection. “Have they ever been wrong before?” His words drip with condescension as he drones on.
They? Who are they? If I needed confirmation that someone on Dax’s side is selling me out, this is it.
Scar responds in a tone that has the same insulting tenor as his partner. “Have we caught her yet?”
“You’re a dickhead, but you’re not wrong. Still, did you see how many of Nagano’s men are here? Trust me, the little whore is here somewhere.”
“Perhaps we should try a couple of other departments before we head downstairs. Making a last-second grab with all of them hanging about…”
Sixth floor.
Copper crosses his arms. Rolling his head back to stare up at the ceiling. “We already checked burns and X-rays.”
Fifth floor.
Scar hums as he thinks, then hammers the wall with his fist, a grin cracking across his face that makes my stomach turn. “Her dad fucked up her hands, so what about Ortho? They handle bones and shit.”
I pull my hands into the sleeves of my jacket, inching the cuffs down over my bandages with my fingertips. The threads hang loosely; ugly little strands of truth, ready to give me away.
“Fuck, what floor is that on?”
Fourth floor.
“Hey kid, do you know where orthopaedics is in this place?” Scar acts like he wasn’t threatening to fuck me a moment ago.
“No. However, there is a department listing and map on each floor. When you disembark on the ground floor, the sign will have them all listed.”
Third floor.
The doors gape wide when, at the last second, Scar leans across me and hammers the open-door button. He slams his foot in the doorway, holding the car hostage and directs Copper to take his place.
“What are you doing? We can just check downstairs,” Copper grumbles.
“No point going all the way down if we don’t have to.
” He looms over the directory, scanning the list with his finger until a screeching electronic caterwaul fills the corridor.
He reaches into his jacket and pulls his phone out of an inside pocket.
The wink and grin he gives me, has me rushing to turn away.
As soon as my head ducks, he flicks the screen and reads whatever message just landed.
“Scratch that. There’s a car pulling around to the side exit.”
“She’s leaving? Wait, is it our guys jumping the gun or a legit tip?” Scar shoves Copper inside the car and pushes the G button. The car drops into motion.
“Legit tip. This says she’s not outside yet, but I guess we know where she’s heading.”
Second Floor. Almost there.
“Fuck. We’ll not get there in time.” Copper paces back and forth.
First Floor.
“Worth a try. Even if we get a look at her, we’ll know who we’re after next time we get a call.”
The doors open onto the ground level. Both men hustle to exit. Scar points left. They turn in that direction and disappear. The door-closing sound rings, but I don’t relax. I can’t. I catch Scar’s words before the doors close.
“If that bastard Gresh gets the bonus before I do, I’m fucking her first just to piss him off.”