Page 66 of Rooke
“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” I move quickly. Neither Jericho nor Alfonse are ready for the knife that I send hurtling through the air. The flash of silver turns end over end through the falling snow, and then it’s sticking blade first out of the side of Alfonse’s neck. Sasha does as I motioned to her and ducks; she doesn’t need me to yell out the command. Jericho releases a howl of rage and grabs at her, but he’s a forty-five year old loser who drinks and smokes too much, and I spend three hours a day boxing and sprinting up stairways. My body slams into his before he can even reach her. He impacts against the high metal railing behind him, and then I’m pounding my clenched fists into his face, over and over again, not stopping when I break his nose, or even when I feel his eye socket shatter. I don’t stop until small fragments of bone are actually flying into the air, and Jericho is making a sickening gurgling sound at the back of his throat.
“Rooke? Rooke, stop,please.” Sasha’s hands are on me. She’s gripping at my shoulders, trying to pull me away from the body on the ground. She screams. When I turn around, Alfonse has her by the throat and he’s hoisting her up so that her feet are kicking in thin air.
Not. Fucking. Happening.
I charge at him, but I don’t crash into him the same way I just did with Jericho. That could end up with Sasha getting hurt. I take hold of the knife that’s still embedded in the side of his neck, and I yank it free from his body.
“Fuck! You fucking—” Alfonse’s words are cut short by the blood that’s filling his throat. He’s a huge fucker, though. He’s not releasing Sasha, and he’s not going down. I take hold of him by the neck, and then I’m driving the blade back into his body. His ear this time, though. I slam the point directly into his ear. It’s like turning off a light switch. One second his face is a rictus of rage, the next it is blank and he is slumping to his knees.
“Oh my god. Holy shit. Oh my god.” Sasha covers her mouth with her hands. She’s in shock. Her skin is white as chalk, and her fingers are trembling. She looks up and down the bridge, tears streaking down her cheeks. “What…what do we do…” she stammers. “I don’t know what we’re supposed to do…”
I make her sit down, and I go about fixing the situation. The lighting here is so dim. The snow bank forming a barricade between the bridge walkway and the road below is really high. I don’t think for a second anyone just witnessed what went down, but I’m careful as I pick Alfonse up by his arms and I push him over the railings. Sasha screws her eyes shut as I dispose of Jericho in the same way.
“This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.” She chants this over and over again as I sit down onto the snow beside her. There’s blood everywhere. I put my arm around her and draw her to me, clenching my jaw.
“It’s okay. It’s okay, baby, it’s over now. I promise. It’s all over now. We can’t stay here, though. We have to move. Can you walk?” If she can’t, I’ll carry her. I just need to get her off this godforsaken bridge. She nods, though. Gets to her feet.
It takes a long time to get back to my place. When we arrive, it’s to find that the road is choked with fire engines…
…and my entire house is engulfed in flames.
TWENTY-NINE
FELT AND SEEN
SASHA
“Are you sure you’re ready to be back at work, dear girl?” Oscar Blackheath is looking particularly handsome in a blue pinstripe shirt and bowtie today. I can’t stop staring at him. He is Rooke’sgrandfather. It just makes no sense. I turn the words over and over in my head, trying to understand how this sweet old man is in any way related to the man who I left sleeping in my bed this morning.
“I’m sure. I think it’s important I get back to it. I’m bored at home anyway. And I can’t go around jumping at shadows forever.” This last statement is really true. Rooke’s been working every day at the antiques store, trying to maintain a sense of normalcy in the face of all the attention he’s been receiving from the cops and the fire department.
Honestly, he should be receiving more attention than he is. He told me what happened there with the man who kidnapped me and dragged me kicking and screaming to the bridge. He told me about the two dead bodies that should have been discovered inside the building, but weren’t. He has no idea what happened to them. No idea whatsoever. It’s a mystery that haunts every waking moment of my day. I know it’s bothering Rooke, too. He’s as stern and stoic as ever, but I can see the firm set of his jaw every time his cell rings. He’s just waiting. Waiting for something to happen that spells disaster for him and for me.
“Good. Well I can’t say I’m sorry you’re back. This place has been terribly dull without you, my girl.” Oscar scratches at the back of his head, making a non-committal grumbling sound. “I would invite you to have lunch with me, but I’m afraid I have a prior engagement. Honestly, I’d like to cancel but—”
“Daddy, there you are.”
Oscar looks like he’s been shot through with a thousand volts. He leans back and steps out of my office into the hallway, turning to face a tall, severe looking woman with a very frosty expression on her face. Her dark brown, almost black hair is pulled back into an immaculate bun. Her eyebrows are perfect. Her dress is Gucci. Her bag is Prada. Her shoes are Manolo Blahniks. She struts down the hallway towards us with a swanlike grace that makes me think she must have been a runway model at some point in her life. “I’ve been looking all over for you,” she says, giving Oscar an air kiss in the general vicinity of his weathered cheek. “The porter on the second floor said you were in your office, but when I got there the place was deserted.”
“Yes. Well. I have to stretch my legs every once in a while. Don’t want to fossilize and join the rest of the dinosaurs just yet.” Oscar looks perturbed for a second, then smiles grimly. “Simone, this is a very dear friend of mine, Sasha.”
The woman turns her frigid gaze to me, and I want to hide under my desk all over again. As soon as I see the color of her eyes, it hits home. Simone. Oh god. She arranges her mouth into what might generally be described as a smile. “Ah, yes.Sasha.” She offers me her hand to shake. Her fingers are freezing. “I believe you know my son.”
A lot is being said in those few short words: she knows I amfuckingher son. My cheeks flush, wildfire spreading across my face. It’s my first day back, and I am sure as hell not prepared for this. Meeting Rooke’s mother isn’t something I’d planned on any time soon. Meeting his mother without him is just plain terrifying.
“I do,” I agree, trying to keep my chin held high.
Simone hovers a hand just above Oscar’s shoulder, her smile broadening slightly. “Daddy, could you do me a favor and give me a moment alone with Sasha? I would just like a brief word with her before we head out to lunch.”
He looks guilty as hell as he shuffles off down the hallway. “Be nice to her, dear. I rather like her. If you eviscerate her with that sharp tongue of yours, I shall be most displeased.”
The sound of Simone’s laughter is like the ringing of a tiny silver bell. Once he’s gone, she enters my office and the space suddenly feels claustrophobic. She points at the overstuffed armchair in the corner of the room, eyebrows halfway up her forehead. “Can I sit?”
“Of course. Please.”
She folds herself neatly into the chair, purse rested carefully on her lap. She rifles around inside the black leather bag, a gentle crease marking her brow, until she finds what she’s looking for. She then holds a single silver key out to me, perfectly manicured nails flashing under the overhead lights. Even fluorescents can’t make this woman look bad.
“My son rarely answers his phone when I call him, Sasha. I was wondering if you might give this to him. Not that it’s much good to him anymore. I believe his house is missing a front door these days?”
