Chapter 41
CHAPTER
FORTY-ONE
“This is not a private place to meet,” said the yellow-eyed man, approaching the desk with the casual demeanor of someone seeking a room for the night. “Honestly, I expected better.”
Carla stared, mouth agape. Boris sputtered. Only Jack managed to find any words. “Who are you?”
“I’m afraid that’s not your business,” the yellow-eyed man said. When he walked, he practically glided, shoes silent against the carpet.
The hair on the back of Jack’s neck stood up.
“Then why are you here?” Carla demanded, stepping forward, shoulders squared, eyes narrowed as she looked the yellow-eyed man up and down.
Jack admired her as much as he feared for her.
“The better question is, why can you see me?” mused the yellow-eyed man, appraising them with raised brows.
Jack inched closer to Carla. “Listen, I don’t know why you’re here—”
“Don’t try to lead the conversation,” the stranger continued, crossing his arms. “It’s tiresome. I’m a busy man, and still somehow the only one who could be spared to deal with this. You’re lucky I’m here at all.”
“‘Spared to deal with what?’” Boris growled. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“The temporal loop. You’ve noticed.”
“We have,” snapped Carla. “Lots of others haven’t.”
“Yes, that’s incredibly unusual. Typically, I only find one potential recruit per incident. It’s unprecedented that there are three of you.” The yellow-eyed man narrowed his gaze, sweeping over them, lingering the longest on Boris. “Though you’re not particularly adept, I must say.”
“Recruits?” Boris raised an eyebrow. “For what? You’re not recruiting me. I’m not going anywhere.”
A chuckle, low and mocking. “That’s what they all say.”
Jack’s knees started to tremble. What the hell was he talking about?
“If you want to lead the conversation so bad,” said Carla, voice growing caustic, “then do it. Don’t just stand there and mock us.”
“Fine,” said the yellow-eyed man. “I’m intrigued. How do you propose dealing with this ‘Enzo’?”
“You heard that?” Jack asked, surprised.
“I did. Now, please.”
Three pairs of eyes landed on Jack. He swallowed. “I thought maybe we could lure him somewhere… And force him to reverse whatever he did? If he actually did anything?”
“If he actually did anything,” hummed the yellow-eyed man, a smirk on his lips. “Yes, indeed, unusual. It seems Enzo is your only person of interest. And you think you can blackmail him, or…?”
“Brute force,” Carla hissed, glare growing intense. Her perfectly plucked brows arched. “Why do you care?”
“I’m just curious if our interests align.”
Boris tapped Jack on the shoulder, whispered, “This is the disappearing guy, right?”
“The very same,” Jack answered, afraid to look away for even a moment, lest he disappear again.
“And what happens if our interests align?” asked Carla, mirroring the yellow-eyed man, crossing her arms, angling her body.
God, Jack loved that about her. Fierce and defiant even in the face of something dangerous and otherworldly.
Behind the counter, Boris tensed like he might interrupt. Jack held out a hand to stop him, trying to communicate silently while the stranger’s focus was locked on Carla.
“Perhaps we might find ourselves in an alliance,” said the yellow-eyed man.
“And what does that entail?”
“Ending this temporal atrocity, for one.” He gestured across the lobby, fingers pointing toward the front desk.
Something like offense crossed Boris’s face. Jack nudged his shoulder. “Not you,” he hissed.
Boris’s scowl deepened, but he said nothing.
Carla turned her nose up at that. “And what else?”
“We’ll have to see. At the very least, you get to continue on with your lives.”
A thrill ran through Jack’s chest. A real chance to end the time loop.
To move on. Coming from the yellow-eyed man, it almost felt like a guarantee.
Squashing down hope, he reminded himself that he had no idea what they were dealing with.
That ending the time loop might not be as easy as he’d hoped.
With the excitement came crushing disappointment. No more roaming around Hidden Cove with Carla. No more drinking with Boris. He’d have to go back to his job and work until he died, trying and failing to make the best of things.
At least he’d have Rainy, for however long she lived.
Fuck. Maybe he didn’t want to carry on with his life. Maybe he’d be better off dead.
“How does that work?” asked Boris with a nervous glance around the lobby. It was still empty, but one never knew who might be hidden nearby.
“We’ll see if your methods are successful,” said the yellow-eyed man, shrugging. “So. What’s the plan?”