Page 65 of Brutal Knight

Once it was ash, I locked my office door, then checked in on Tatiana. Phee was standing over her, changing out her IV.

I leaned against the door frame, watching them as I finished my drink.

Phee was gentle as she adjusted Tatiana's body to make her more comfortable. Then she went to the bottom of the bed and pulled out a sock covered foot.

Even with her body having gone through hell in the past few days, Tatiana was still a vision to behold. With no makeup on, dressed in one of my oversized shirts and sweatpants, her hair splayed out against the pillow, she was still the only woman who would ever own my heart.

I checked over the room, making sure the thick blue curtains were drawn and the temperature was okay. The air smelled of peppermint as Phee peeled off a sock, patted oil on it, and began to rub.

"She'll be fine," Phee said, "no need to hover over us like a clucking hen chicken.”

My grunt was my only answer.

“Sweetheart,” she looked up at me. “The girl can sense you, even in her sleep. Let her rest. Besides," she crooked an eyebrow, "you look like shit. You need to rest yourself.” My scowl grew deeper but she made a waving motion with her hands. “Off you go now. I can't do my job with you standing there like the grim reaper. I'll wake you if anything happens."

I stared her down for a long moment but she only put a hand on her generous hip, staring back at me.

I chuckled. This woman had balls that grown, made men didn't have.

"You're cute."

“And you're condescending." She winked, “Now go on, go get some sleep."

Shaking my head at her cheekiness, I turned, throwing a final glance at Tatiana before I shut the door behind me. Except, instead of climbing into my own bed, I took the elevator to the bottom floor, then made my way to the kitchen pantry.

I hit the knob hidden between the sugar and the flour I never used. A panel popped out, revealing a handle. I swung open the large shelf, revealing my safe room.

The walls were filled with guns, cash, and extra passports. I grabbed a black, leather bag and filled it with what I might need. Then, after grabbing one last thing from the fridge, I left.

Forty minutes later, I was sitting outside a small, brown brick house.

A yellow lab dog, tied with a short chain, lay on the front porch, sleeping. The yard was filled with weeds and small cacti. There was only the flickering light of a TV to indicate that there was any life in the house.

I settled in my seat and waited.

Time passed slowly, and I watched a homeless man up the street push a large cart, filled to the brim with large, black plastic bags. He talked to himself, occasionally gesturing. Later on, a stray grey cat scurried across the street, stopping to sniff what looked like a clump of dog poop.

Two hours later, the flickering light stopped. After a few minutes, a light to the left corner room came on.

According to Rochon, and he was never wrong, the guy had a wife and two girls. The girls were eight and four. Their room was in the back of the house.

After about ten minutes, the light went off. I counted to sixty in my mind, then, grabbing my bag, silently slid out of my car.

I approached the dog first, who scooted backwards, a low growl in his throat.

I pulled out a steak from my bag and, after unwrapping it, threw it at the dog.

He eagerly jumped towards it, but the chain was too short. I crept forward, grabbing the meat again, walking slowly towards the dog.

His eyes were glued to the steak and I tentatively reached out. Without hesitation, he pulled it from my fingers and began to gobble it down.

I squat, waiting patiently for him to finish. When he was done, he looked up at me, his soft brown eyes eager and his tail wagging.

I pat his head, whispering, "good boy." A pink tongue came out, licking my fingers.

After giving him some love and attention, something he probably rarely got, I kissed the top of his head, then stepped towards the front door. The dog whimpered a little but otherwise let me pass.

The door was unlocked.

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