by Cece Rose
“That is pretty strange,” One admits, before sighing. “I don’t think you or your friend tried to screw with us.”
“Really? You’ve only just figured that out?” I ask, giving him what I hope is a look that coveys both my fury and my complete judgement at his idiocy at taking so long to come to this conclusion.
“I had to make sure.” He shrugs, as if his ridiculous actions are all totally justified.
“Now that you’re sure, can I get my brother and leave?” I plead, somehow knowing that I won’t like his answer, but asking anyway.
“No. Because while you may not be the one that screwed us, you and your brother are involved in this. Letting you both run off and get caught or killed won’t help me, so I’m not going to do it,” he states without blinking.
“Well, we don’t care about what helps you,” I retort.
“It’s a good thing that I don’t care that you don’t then, isn’t it?” he drawls, leaning back in his seat a little, as if trying to feign relaxation.
“When can my brother and I leave then? How long will it take you to figure this all out?” I demand, my volume increasing with my fury. “It took you long enough to figure out the obvious.”
“Keep it down, Scar,” Theo says gently, his eyes sweeping over the place in a paranoid manner.
“Keep it down?!” I snap. “Are you fucking kidding me? Did you not hear him?” Two looks away as I snap at Theo, and then One rests his hand on my shoulder. “Take. Your. Hand. Off. Me.” I bite out.
“Breathe. We will let you and your brother go once this is taken care of,” he says quietly.
“I don’t believe you,” I reply, shrugging his hand off as my heart begins to race in my chest, and my head starts to spin. I know that I can’t trust him. I can’t trust anyone.
“Well, I believe that if I keep your brother safe now, you’ll do the same when we let you go, and you won’t talk. Am I right?” he asks me, in a tone softer than I’d thought him capable of.
“If you kept my brother safe, I’d do anything,” I answer without a moment’s hesitation. He blinks, probably not expecting that level of conviction in my agreement.
“That’s what I thought. Now, why wouldn’t we let you go if we thought you weren’t going to pose a threat? Do you honestly think we want to kill a child for no reason?” he asks me seriously, and I look between him and Two. I shake my head despite my reluctance to admit it, if we complied, he wouldn’t need to kill us. “We don’t,” he agrees.
“Bad people for money, those are the jobs we take,” Two offers in a low voice. I spare a look at Theo who looks super uncomfortable next to Two all of a sudden.
“What qualifies someone as bad?” I ask.
“It’s easy to figure out if someone’s bad, Scarlett. What’s harder is determining if someone’s good,” Two answers vaguely.
“What kind of things make someone bad?” I insist. If these killers profess to have morals, I want to know where their lines are drawn.
Would they readily shoot Theo because he sells drugs? Or would the fact he does it to provide for his family mean anything?
“Anyone who hurts kids, criminals of various degrees, and there was this one guy who killed his eighteen-year-old girlfriend. Her parents hired us when he got off on a technicality after an issue with the evidence. Her parents knew bad when they saw it,” he elaborates, casting a look around to make sure nobody is paying us any attention.
“What about me?” Theo asks my unasked question.
“Not unless we have to,” One answers, looking him directly in the eye. “Now, sharing time has been fun and all, but we need to get moving.”
“Why?” I complain, happy to sit here and drink milkshakes all night, especially if it would irritate One, which for some reason, since meeting him, I’ve had a growing urge to do.
“No,” he deflects.
“No?” I echo.
“You don’t get to ask any more questions. That was it. Now come on,” he demands, already standing. Two follows suit. I share a commiserative look with Theo, though we relent, standing to join them.
“So, where are we going?” I inquire as we walk out, ignoring what One had just said completely. Two barks out a laugh when One curses under his breath.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Theo hisses to me, as we follow One and Two out of the fast food restaurant.
“He just gets on my nerves, okay?” I brush Theo off, hoping he’ll drop it. He gives me concerned look, before facing ahead again, continuing to follow after the others. They lead us out, towards a familiar, silver Mercedes.
After a moment or two of silence, Theo turns to me again, and I pause, letting One and Two get a little further ahead. He runs his eyes over me from head to toe, before meeting my eyes again in a penetrating stare.
“I think I’m definitely the better liar,” he announces, then spins on his heel to continue walking to the car. He leaves me standing here, staring after him in a mixture of shock and confusion.
Chapter Thirteen
A drug dealer, two assassins, and a blonde walk into a bar… I try not to roll my eyes as we cut through the hotel bar, heading straight for the lifts now that One has returned with the key cards for our rooms. We sound like a tragic excuse for a joke.
“What floor are we on?” I ask, as we all cram into the small lift.
“Seven,” One answers, hitting the button before I can.
“Awesome,” I mumble blandly, turning to stare at the wall of the lift rather than look at them.
The lift climbs up in silence as we all continue to ignore each other. We reach our floor without any stops, and file out, following One towards our room. He pauses outside of 716 and pulls a key card from a small envelope, before scanning it on the door. He gestures for me and Theo to step inside, handing Theo his bag as he passes by him.
“Shove it under the bed,” One instructs, before shutting the door on us.
I sigh, walking over to the bed without giving the room so much as a quick look around, before just flopping down onto it, face first, as Theo completes One’s mundane task. Fuck today.
“Tired?” Theo questions, sitting down beside me.
“Exhausted,” I answer. “And I need a shower too.”
“I could always join you,” Theo offers.
“In sleeping or showering?” I ask playfully, turning on the bed so that I can face him.
“If you’re asking me if I’d rather sleep with you, or take a shower with you, my answer is why not both.” He grins.
“What do you think One and Two are doing?” I ask, going off topic as my mind wanders. Theo’s smile falters.
“Braiding each other’s hair? Who gives a shit?” He shrugs, before standing up and beginning to pace.
“What’s your problem?” I demand.
“They are. Damn, Scar, they’re fucking assassins,” he whispers in an intense tone.
“I know that. You think that I don’t?” I snap, annoyed at his insinuation that I don’t get the seriousness of the situation. Theo holds out his hands in front of him in surrender.
“I’m sorry, I know that you know. It’s just… they worry me, they’re killers. Fucking murderers for hire,” he grinds out, sounding a mixture of worried and pissed off at once. I bite my lip. Where did all this come from?
“Look, this isn’t ideal. But I need my brother, and I need my mother dead, and they are the best solution to both of those problems,” I answer after taking a deep breath.
“The easiest solution isn’t always the best one, Scar.”
“You think that this is fucking easy? Fuck you, Theo,” I retort angrily.
“Easiest doesn’t always mean it’s easy, just easier than the other bad options,” Theo tries to implore me to understand.
The door to the hotel room opens and One steps inside, while Two hovers behind him in the doorway. One looks between us curiously, and I feel heat creep into my cheeks.
Fuck I hope we weren’t spe
aking louder than I’d thought.
“You know what, I’m going for a shower. I need some time alone and that looks like the only way I’m going to get it right now,” I announce, striding past all of them into the bathroom, where I’m pleased to find towels waiting on the side by the sink. The shower looks pretty decent too. I slam the door shut behind me and lock it. Feeling a sense of relief at the small barrier between me and all of them.
Guilt begins to nag at me as I turn on the shower, and begin to strip off my clothes. How can I take time to enjoy a shower while my brother’s in the care of an assassin. and there’s so much at risk? I shake the feeling off, swallowing the lump in my throat when it forms. I refuse to cry right now. I’d rather do anything than feel useless, unable to do anything but cry about it all.
I step into the shower and feel the water crash down over my head, soaking my dark blonde hair to my scalp and shoulder. It washes over my face as I tilt my head back from the spray of the shower head, and I feel my worries ease as the hot water sinks into my skin and drenches me completely.
Fifteen damn minutes won’t hurt…
Chapter Fourteen
Lying on the bed, I stare across the room, watching One as he reads while sitting on the beige carpet near the door. The book’s in another language, though I can’t figure out which one. At first, I thought it might be in German, but I realised I didn’t recognise any of the words at all. After taking two years of it in school, I figured I probably would have known at least a few of them if the book were actually in German.
“Are you going to stare at me the entire time, while we wait until they get back?” One questions, sounding bored. I sigh and turn over, looking away from him without speaking. It just had to be him that volunteered to stay here with me, while I was unaware the others even planned to depart, since I was in the shower. On the bright side, I’m finally clean and feeling relatively more human than before the hot jets of water did their job.
“I never said you had to turn around,” he mutters, this time sounding a little put out, but I guess he’s not too bothered as the only other sound I hear is him turning a page in his book.
“You didn’t have to, you made it clear what you wanted,” I grind out. How long had we been trapped in this room together now? “What time is it?” I ask, wondering how much longer it’ll be until Theo and Two get be back.
“It’s just gone seven,” One answers.
“But it was quarter to seven when I came out of the bathroom, that doesn’t make…” I trail off as I realise what I’m saying.
“Doesn’t make sense,” he supplies for me. “Yeah, it feels like hours to me too.”
“It’s just too…awkward,” I complain.
“Awkward?” he questions.
“Yeah. Between the whole you being a murderer thing, plus the fact you hold control over whether I get to see my brother again or not, yeah, that makes things pretty damn awkward for me,” I answer in an irritated tone.
A harsh bark of laughter escapes him, startling me. I roll back over to glare at him. He smirks at the sight of my annoyance. “Sorry, but you trying to take the moral high ground? It’s hilarious.”
“Oh, fuck you,” I mutter, turning to stare up at the ceiling instead. “You kill people for money. You kidnapped me. And you’d kill my innocent, thirteen-year-old brother if you felt like you could rationalise it as keeping yourself safe.”
“I’m not planning to kill your brother, Scarlett. I’m not planning to harm either of you, if you just do what you’re told for a little while.” He lets out a long, tired sigh, sounding weighed down by exhaustion.
“I didn’t ask what you planned to do, I said what you would be willing to do. If the choice was presented to you, and you had to kill him to stop him from talking, or whatever else it is people like you worry about, you’d do it without blinking, no hesitation. I bet you didn’t even blink over kidnapping me. Just grabbed a scared girl off the streets when she was already running for her life,” I rant, still staring up at the ceiling.
“You know, you did pretty well for your first kidnapping. You could try talking a little less next time, though. Also, don’t give away just how much of a weakness your brother represents for you, it’s safer to keep your cards to yourself,” One responds, taking me by surprise. I glance over at him, and he smiles, as if there’s any humour in what he’s just said.
“That’s easy to say from the side of the kidnapper,” I scoff.
“I’ve been taken too,” he says softly. His words send me reeling, and I stare at him, wondering if it’s possible to literally see someone in a new light.
“When were you kidnapped?” I ask, somewhat sceptical.
“It’s actually happened a few times. Most were training exercises, though I was never certain of that at the time. In this line of work, it pays to have someone trained to deal with anything, someone that you can trust won’t break under interrogation,” he explains with a shrug. “Joking aside, Scar, you did good. You didn’t crumble, and a lot of people would have under the circumstances. You’re a strong person, and I respect that.”
I think about everything he’s said for a moment, just staring at my captor, before finally responding, “It may have been my first time being kidnapped, but it wasn’t my first time being held captive.” My words hang in the air for a moment, before my brain clicks on something. “You never denied it.”
“I did not.”
“How can you expect me to trust you when you just told me you’d kill an innocent child?” I ask him, not understanding how he could even think this is okay.
“I wouldn’t want to, and I hope I don’t have to, but everyone has something they’d kill in order to protect. And you should trust me because I chose not to lie to you about it,” he answers plainly. He stands, leaving his book open, pages face down on the floor to save his place. He slowly walks over and sits on the edge of the bed. I try not to show how nervous him being this close to him makes me. “Would you kill Two or Three to save your brother? To protect him from harm?” he asks me finally.
“It’s not the same,” I answer quickly, not wanting to think about what I’d do, just how far I’d go, to protect my brother.
“Answer the question,” he demands.
“Maybe, I don’t know. It’s not the same. Caleb is an innocent kid and, they’re…”
“Killers?” One supplies in an annoyed tone.
“Well, yeah,” I answer, shrugging. The two just aren’t comparable.
“They’re also nineteen, only a year and a half older than you,” he adds, taking me by surprise. I’d thought the guys were at least in their early twenties.
“And you?” I question, unable to stop myself from asking. Curiosity’s a bitch.
“How old do you think I am?”
I look him over, from his face, to his eyes, to his skin, and even over his height and build, trying to figure out some way of discerning his age. He doesn’t look old, but he doesn’t look young either. His green eyes appear too tired, and they look like they’ve seen way too much.
“I’m not good at guessing games,” I finally reply, once I come to the conclusion that I can’t figure it out by looking at him.
“I’m twenty-five,” he offers, taking me by surprise. I didn’t think he’d actually tell me anything about himself, even if by some miracle I had guessed it right.
“Your turn, tell me something about you,” he requests, suddenly laying back onto the bed and stretching out across the bottom third of it. I move up closer to the headboard and think for a moment, wondering what to share about myself.
“What kind of thing do you want to know?” I question, biting my lip nervously. Everything that pops in my head seems either too dumb or too trivial. Foods I like, favourite movies. All of it’s so unremarkable and boring, and for some insane reason, I don’t want One to think I’m either of those things.
“Where is your favourite place in the world?” he throws out randomly.
“I don’t have one, not anymore,” I answer with a small shrug.
“Why not?” he asks, and I can hear the genuine curiosity in his voice.
“It shut down a few years back. Don’t laugh, but my favourite place in the whole world was this rundown, second-hand bookstore. They made the best coffee upstairs though, and they’d let Caleb roam around their store all day long if he wanted to. He’d spend hours flipping through all the books while I relaxed and drank coffee. The owner was nice to Caleb, so we ended up going in there a lot. It beat going home once school was over.”
“You read?” he asks, and I nod absently, lost in a memory of Caleb and how confused he’d been when the store just hadn’t been there anymore. I cringe as I remember him breaking in through a window and sitting in the middle of the empty store. I’d looked everywhere for him, and when it had finally occurred to me that he may have gone there, he’d already been sitting around inside an empty shop for hours by himself in the darkness.
“I’m surprised you do. How do you fit in time for reading around all the kidnapping and murder for hire?” I can’t seem to help reacting to him with scathing sarcasm. He laughs, which I find odd, seeing as I’d expected him to bite back at me instead.
“Ask me another question,” he offers.
“What’s your real name?” I inquire, figuring it can’t hurt to try my luck.
“Ask something else, you know I’m not going to tell you my name.” He gives me a pointed look from where he’s sprawled out, the look on his face seeming to contradict the casualness of his position. Thanks to his towering height, his legs hang off the bed by quite a bit. Speaking of towering height…
“How tall are you?” I ask.
“Six-four and a half, you?” he returns, raising an eyebrow as he runs his eyes over me.
