RAIN
Chapter twenty-eight
Istep through the front door, trails of smoke looming in the air. Throwing my keys onto the foyer table, I step into the study lit by the dim lamp atop the corner of the mahogany desk. My father sits behind it in a black suit and coat, smoking a cigar.
Blade’s slumped in the leather chair across from him in black jeans, smoking a cigarette with his usual far away stare. Kieran stands beside Dad in his suit, his hazel eyes tracking my movements.
My lips quirk with a smirk as I take my seat beside Blade and adjust the white cap sat backwards on my head. “You said six.”
Dad sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
I would have been here earlier, but Rome had training this morning. I then sent him out this afternoon with his card and told him to take the girls shopping. I cleaned up while they did and stared intently at my phone to ensure he was, in fact, spending money.
The first few purchases were at smaller stores and for very little.
I called him and told him there was nothing wrong with spoiling them with designer things.
He got mad and refused, stating, designer means nothing.
They need to learn to be humble and that a label doesn’t make them better than anyone else.
While I agreed with his opinion, I wasn’t saying they need to buy a shirt or bag with the designer label splashed across it, but buy items of high quality. I then called Kilah and told her to get items for Rome, since the asshole was refusing to buy anything for himself.
He’s so fucking humble, it’s adorable.
The girls gave us a little fashion show once they got back. Rome was hesitant to allow them to keep certain items he deemed too revealing. I told them to wear whatever they wanted. They aren’t shrinking themselves to make others comfortable. If they have a problem with someone, they can call me.
“It’s fake,” I announce.
“Mmm,” Blade hums. “I think so too.”
“You’ve studied the cameras?” my father asks me.
“Not yet, I’ve been busy.”
Blade’s calm breaths deepen. “I will not continue wasting time and have Alexa in another country because you aren’t doing your fucking job. Get your dick wet after you’ve helped clean up the fucking mess you made.”
“This isn’t impacting you seeing her. You can’t fucking do that anyway.”
“Five years,” Blade spits, looking to our father. “Five fucking years, I’ve been sitting in hell watching her through a screen. How long is my sentence? Hmm? How long will you keep her away from me?”
Dad lifts his cigar, stare unwavering. The smoke puffs past us, thickening the already suffocating air. “She doesn’t want to be near you, Blade. I truthfully don’t blame her.”
“How would you feel if someone was keeping you from Mum? You’d kill anyone in your way.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Take it how you will.”
“I mean, he’s not wrong,” I interject, staring at our father and siding with Blade.
“I don’t want to hear another word about Alexa,” Dad spits.
Blade grinds his cigarette into the ashtray and slides his hands into his pockets. His right begins to move, and I know he’s rubbing the pad of his thumb and index finger together.
Mum had encouraged him to find something to help calm himself when he felt he was about to lose control, and that action is what he landed on.
I’d walked into the home theatre once, and he was methodically rubbing his fingers while staring into the abyss.
I turned around and walked straight back out.
I didn’t particularly feel like dying that day.
I clear my throat, gaining their attention. “I’ll check the cameras, but if Josephine’s death is at the hands of Smith, I guarantee the footage will be spliced.”
“Then find the IP address that did it,” Blade says.
“It’s not that simple, man. IPs can be hidden.”
“You’re fucking useless. Alexa almost died because of you.”
My heart squeezes. I feel terrible that the only reason she was given those pills was to be used as bait because of me, but her mental state, the events in her past, and her family are not my fault.
I tried to help her; I did the best I could to make her head less chaotic, and this dumb fuck is partly the reason her mental state is as shattered as it is.
He had a mission to ruin her, and he did.
“Why?” Dad taps his finger on the desk. “I want to know why Ezra would have any reason to kill Josephine.”
“They were in separate prisons,” I supply, relaxing back.
“The other three were all together. What if she made a deal to rat about something they communicated about pre-prison?” I was lying in bed last night, listening to Rome sleep quietly on my chest while my brain ran through every reason someone would want her dead.
“What if she was their next pawn?” I suggest.
The few wrinkles on my father’s forehead reveal themselves with a curious raise of his brows. “Explain.”
“Sam Kidd was in San Francisco. Sacramento is only an hour and a half away from San Francisco. If we’d taken the bait, gone to San Fran and Kidd failed, she may have been their back up.”
“Still doesn’t explain why she’s dead,” Blade probes.
“They were broadcast on the news for months. Maybe a parent of a child photographed saw her and took it into their own hands. Maybe they wanted their own revenge.”
Dad sighs, running a hand down his face. “A citizen cannot orchestrate a suicide as meticulous as that. There are too many unknowns. I don’t like unknowns.”
He doesn’t like not being in control of the situation is what he means.
Thanks to me, he controls every conversation.
He’s smart, though, never threatening or allowing blackmail to be obvious.
He’ll manipulate the conversation to add subtext where needed and infer certain facts, but he’ll never state them.
Know the game inside out but also know your player.
Is something he taught me from a young age while we were playing chess.
You can play the player, but if you don’t know how to manipulate every rule of the game, you’ve already lost. Let them think they’ve won; they then become complacent, and you’re already five moves ahead before they realise.
He’s created a fortress, me and Blade as security.
“What if she was a pawn,” I conclude, “one of distraction?”
“To what?” Blade asks.
“Put something obvious in front of someone, they don’t pay attention to their surroundings.”
“I know what a fucking distraction is.”
“The other two,” I grit out. “What if they’re moving?”
“London,” Dad concludes, pointing his cigar at me. “Check the fucking airports. I want them watched. I’ll have men posted on shift.” He stands, tense, and leaves the room with Kieran in tow. The door opens and closes with a thud, leaving a thick silence behind.
“You’ve fucked us.” Blade’s callous tone echoes in the large room. “This could have been handled years ago, but you didn’t ask for help.” He stares forward, refusing to look at me.
“I tried to have them taken out on the assumption they would seek revenge.”
“I would’ve gone in there and dealt with it myself.”
“You would’ve put yourself in prison? Alexa tried to send you there, but you were meticulous about covering your tracks.”
His jaw tightens, eyes still not moving with a blink. “At least I’d be in the same country as her.” I stand and round the chair away from him. “I do feel, you know.” His monotone voice suggests otherwise.
I stop in the double doorway and spin around, staring at his mussed-up hair. “I doubt that.”
“I may be the villain in your story, and hers. I don’t care if I am, but I do feel. Anger. Hurt.”
“But you don’t care if you inflict those things on others.”
“No.”
“Then why should I give a fuck about how you feel? Or the fact you want her in your life?”
“Call me a heartless monster, I don’t fucking care. I can’t see the beauty in a flower or a sunset like most people. They’re mundane things, and for some reason, people associate happiness with bright colours. Grey is happiness. The only one I’ve found.”
“Black rids grey,” I throw back. “You made that happen.”
“I need her, Rain.”
It’s times like these when can’t tell if he’s trying to manipulate me, pulling at my heartstrings and jostling me like a goddamn puppet.
“She’s healing,” I say. “You have their number. If you want to hear her voice, then call. If she doesn’t want to talk to you, I’m sure you can understand why.”
“Can you paint her?” The question stumps me as I stare at him, completely still in the seat. “Landscape, her nose and eyes—that’s all I want. I know you remember every detail. All grey.”
I do. Of course, I remember everything, I couldn’t forget if I tried. “I’ll work on it when I have time,” I deadpan.
He nods once.
After sifting through airport footage all night and finding nothing, then working out for two hours, I still can’t exhaust myself.
So, I open the door to my studio and flick on the light.
A white grand piano is positioned in the far-left corner, a window seat to the right overlooking the back of the estate and the forest within it.
Three large windows expand across the far wall, allowing the space to be lit by natural light.
Taking a new landscape canvas from the shelf and placing in on my easel, I open the container of lime-wash to prep to canvas.
My alarm blares and I take out my phone, dialling the number. My smile falls when it rings through. I dial again. It rings, twice, and the excited bubble in my chest returns when it connects.
“Hello?” his sleepy gruff tone flows into my ear, making me forget about the brush I was about to pick up.
“Morning, baby.”
“Why are you calling so early?”
“You need to be up for training. I’m your alarm.”
He groans and then releases a deep sigh. “I have mine set for five minutes from now.”
“Your alarm is set for 5:05 AM?”
“I-I take all the sleep I can get.”
I chuckle to myself and cross the room to the window seat, watching the rain disturb the green glow emitted by the lights beneath the pool’s surface. “I miss you.”
“It’s been, what? Twelve hours?”
“So? As soon as you’re out of my sight, I need you back in it.”
“That was bloody cheesy,” he laughs.
“But you’re still smiling,” I tease. “How are you? You know, parents and everything.”
“I’m fine.”
“Rome.”
He releases an exasperated sigh. “I need to tell Mum. I just don’t know how.”
“I will.”
“No,” he snaps. “Stay out of it. I’m glad you finally told me, but I wished you’d done it sooner.”
“I helped keep your sisters with you.”
“I know,” he groans, “but you had no right to keep that from me.”
“Why didn’t you get this out yesterday? I thought we were good?”
Silence stabs my ear and I grow increasingly impatient.
I knew he was pissed off I didn’t tell him earlier, and he was still a messed-up ball of thoughts during dinner that night, but he was fine in the shower when I proceeded to make him come again.
Then, when we got into bed and he cuddled me no problem.
If he’s pissed at me, I need him to tell me and not act like everything’s fine.
“I just…I need some space right now,” he whispers.
“Space?” A dry laugh falls past my lips. “You aren’t serious?”
“Yeah, actually, I am. I need time to deal with my family.”
“You aren’t fucking getting it, Rome.”
The line cuts.
Space? That’s not fucking happening.
I keep calling and texting until it goes straight to voicemail, so I text more before I throw my phone to the cushion and begin painting.