Page 19 of The Bronze Garza
“Find your way to the other side.”
I look down at my hands in my lap and shrug with one shoulder. “I don’t know yet. One side was captivity, the other was freedom. I stepped off the bank of captivity, but I…I don’t know if I’ve made it to freedom...” I pick at my fingernails. “It’s a mental thing.”
The stewardess returns with a cup of hot water, a selection of teabags, and a small bowl of mixed nuts.
“Thank you very much.” From the selection of teas, I choose a Chai Spice, unwrapping it and dunking it into the cup.
William glances over at The Bronze Man, who’s still asleep, then back to me. “Told me to tell you whatever you wanna know.” He emits a short chuckle. “Think he’s happier to be going home than you are.”
Resisting the urge to look over at the devastating man, I pick at my bowl of nuts. “Where’s he from?”
“Same place as you.”
“L.A.?”
“Yup.”
Oh. “And you?”
“Philly, born and raised. But relocated to L.A. for work.”
“And what is ‘work’?”
“This.”
“You mean rescuing me?”
“Yeah.”
“Did my father hire you?”
Who else would it be?I should have known Daddy wouldn’t give up on me. I’m his only child.
“He hired Tor. Tor hired me.”
“Tor?”
William jerks his head in The Bronze Man’s direction.
Oh. “Is Tor short for something?”
“Yeah. Torin.”
Hmm. What a dainty name for such a jagged-edged man. It seems so…incongruous.
I take a sip of tea, thinking. “I don’t understand. If getting me was the job…well, ‘Tor’ has been a member of the Tenth Floor Club for over a year. He supported Igor, buying and fucking the girls, having them dance in his club. None of it makes sense.”
William tsks. “You’ve got no idea the kind of pull Igor has in Moscow, do you?”
“Where would I have learned that kind of info, William? From the thick ‘Biography of Igor Gusev’ book that he reads to me at night before tucking me in?”
He grins, and it travels to his eyes. “Reuben.”
“What?”
“My name’s Reuben, not William,” he corrects. “But you can call me Ben.”
“Ah. Of course William’s not your real name,” I mutter, shaking my head.
