“Your mistress,” he hissed, leaning in close, pushing the gun deeper into her. “I should put a bullet between your eyes and send you back to her in pieces just for sport. Bitch.”
Rora didn’t know if he was calling her a bitch or this mistress. “I don’t have a mistress,” she said, her neck hurting almost as much as her head where it was being squashed between the wall and gun barrel. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Strike.”
He growled. “You tell her the games are over, and if she wants me, she should show herself. I get no pleasure from killing her minions. Her on the other hand…”
“Killing… oh my god, Strike, who did you kill?”
Baring his teeth, he almost spat venom when he spoke. “I don’t give a damn about Gallagher. I told her. Sending this little innocent babygirl to dangle him in front of me won’t change a fucking thing. I’m better. I’m stronger. I will get there first.”
Rora had never been so lost, she wanted to say something, her mouth opened, but she didn’t know where to begin. Strike did know Benjamin, that much was clear, but his role in whatever else was going on was a mystery to her.
“Get where first?” she asked.
“Are you ten?” he asked, shoving back to put a couple of feet between them, but he kept the gun aimed at her.
“Like, years old? No,” she said, descending deeper into confusion.
“Ten, the gang, like the roman numeral, X. Do you belong to them?”
Pushing her head to the side, he pulled back her ear, making her wince, but whatever he was looking for back there, he wouldn’t find it.
“I don’t even know what that means,” she said when he yanked her back to stab the gun into her forehead again. “I’m not ten. I’m not in any gang. I don’t have a mistress, and I still don’t know what the point is… And your call the other night was bullshit by the way, don’t do that again.”
“My… phone call?”
“Yes,” she said, pulling the lapels of her coat, trying to regain some dignity. “I already told you I don’t know the answer to your stupid question. Did you think violating me and leaving me to the dogs in Last Resort was going to jog my memory? Even if it had, I wouldn’t have told you after you were such a dick.”
Biting the inside corner of his lip, he seemed to be struggling to hold back his own frustration. The gun dipped once, then rose, before he let it fall to his side, hanging in his loose hand.
“You got a call the night I left you in Last Resort?”
It didn’t even occur to her that the call might not have been from him. Looking left then right, she was even more confused. “Yes.”
“Saying what?”
“Just one thing,” she said. He waited, giving her nothing but time to tell him. “What’s the point?”
“They asked you that?” he said and when she nodded, he cursed. “What did you say?”
“I… I don’t remember… I probably swore and told them some variation on go to hell. I thought it was you.”
“You used my name, didn’t you?” Did she? She couldn’t remember. It was foolish of her to think he’d call after what had happened that night, and in the previous days. Rora shrugged and he threw up his hands, backing off further. “How are you not dead yet?” he called out, his head falling back.
“Strike,” she said, pushing away from the wall, but he held his hands up.
“You’re still doing it, would you shut the fuck up?”
Curling her lip into her mouth, Rora bit it hard. He turned away from her, a hand on his hip, the butt of the gun resting against his hairline. Whatever assumptions he’d made, he was obviously changing them now.
Taking solace in the fact that she no longer had a gun pointed at her head, Rora slipped her hands into her pockets to find her wallet, her phone, and the knife he’d given her all still there. If he hadn’t been taking her possessions, why was he searching her pockets? She couldn’t begin to figure what he’d thought he might find.
Shocking her with an abrupt move, he spun toward her and held out a hand. “Give me your phone.”
“What? Why?”
“Because if Bella calls again I’m going to end this.”
“Bella?” she asked, taking her phone from her pocket. Strike snatched it from her before she could decide if she was going to hand it over or not. “Who’s Bella?”
“My ex-girlfriend,” he said, putting the gun into his waistband to begin doing something with the phone.
“Oh,” she said, watching him work almost as fast on the phone as he did on his laptop. Whatever he was doing had to be important, his brow was creased in a frown. In fairness to her, she had no idea that anyone else was interested in her situation. How many people should she have expected to ask her the exact same question so soon after each other? “It didn’t sound like a woman, it was a male voice.”
“She has tech,” he muttered. “My fucking tech.”
Maybe she wasn’t as ex as he’d said. “I don’t get it. If she’s your ex, why can’t you just call her and tell her what’s happening? Don’t you have her number?”
He glanced up at her just for a split second, then went back to work. “She’s off the grid at the moment.”
“Must have been a bad breakup,” she said to which she got a grunt. “Are you still in love with her?” No response. “Is she still in love with you?”
“Bella despises men. All men. All the time,” he said. “She thinks they’re a subspecies. Scum who should be despised.”
“Very bad break up,” she murmured, casting her attention to the street. “You must have really hurt her.”
“She was like that long before I met her,” he said. “It was one of the things I loved most about her.”
“That she despised your gender?”
“That she hated me,” he said. “Because she loved me and that made her hate herself. Watching that bitterness fester really was something.”
“You wanted to make the woman you loved hate herself?” she asked, wondering if there was anything about this guy that made sense.
With one foot planted, he bowed toward her and dropped the phone back into her pocket. “Your life is in danger. Leave the city. The state. I’d tell you to leave the country, but your passport’s expired. Get a fake one if you can and split.”
“Split? No,” she said. “I… I have to find Benjamin.”
Like he was talking to a child, he took a slow breath and blinked. “Then what? You find him, and then what? You’re going to save him?” She shrugged. “You make a target of yourself, Ro. Do you know how many times I could’ve killed you?”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Nothing in it for me,” he said. “ ‘Til now. Use my name again, to anyone, and you won’t get another chance.”
So because she’d used his name on a phone call, his ex-girlfriend had sent people to cut and beat him? “I don’t understand,” she said, biting her lip instead of using his name. “Why did she send people to hurt you? And what is the point?”
“You’re not the only one asking that question,” he said.
“No, I mean, I don’t get it. I don’t understand the question. What is…” Slowing the question changed it and clarity made her pause before finishing. “The point… Oh my God.”
“What?” he asked, but she was lost, coming to terms with this new understanding. Grabbing her arms, he shook her hard, forcing her out of her stupor. “Rora, what is it? Did you remember? Did you figure it out?”
“I… I… No, I… never mind. Sorry, I have to—”
“You’re a terrible liar,” he said, hauling her back when she tried to walk past him.
“I have to go.”
“Tell me, what’s the point?”
But there was no way she was going to share what she’d remembered with him, not here, and definitely not now. “Help me find Benjamin and I’ll tell you.”
“What? No.”
“No, you’re right,” she said. “Not just find
him. Help me save him, and I’ll tell you.”
“Save him? This isn’t a movie. If I get killed helping you and your—”
“Fine, I’ll wait until Bella calls again,” she said, and tried to leave again, but he slammed her to the wall so hard the air was forced out of her lungs. “Get your hands off me!”
“Bella will give you what you want. In her own twisted way. She’ll slit your beautiful Benjamin’s throat and deliver him to you in time for you to watch him take his last breath. She’s evil incarnate.”
“So says you,” she said. “But I’ve heard similar rumors about you.”
“Difference between me and her is, I’ll tell you the truth. I am evil, most of the stories are true. She wants money and power and she’ll go to any lengths to get it. I figured that out about her just in time, but you’re green, you won’t see the truth until it’s too late.”
The guy might not mean to be condescending, but he was doing a good job of it. “Find him for me.”
“What’s the point?” he asked, gritting his teeth.
He still had her arms, so she couldn’t move far, but she pushed her shoulders forward. “Save him, and I’ll tell you.”
“Tell me first.”
“You think I trust you? The guy who knocked me out and abandoned me? Not a chance, buster. Benjamin first. I’ll keep my word.” He was still hesitating. “I’m the only one of the two of us who hasn’t broken every written law, who’s the more trustworthy here?”
Squeezing her, he pushed back and let go. “Not every law,” he snarled. “Fine. I’ll find your Benjamin for you. I’ll drag his carcass out of wherever he’s being held and you can have your happy ever after.” Pointing into her face, he bared his teeth. “But if you screw me over—”
She grabbed his finger, pulling it down from her face. “I won’t,” she said. “Where do we begin?”
five
First thing was to get out of the city.
Strike took Rora to her hotel room and watched her stuff what little she could into the pack he gave her that fitted on his bike. Everything else was left behind. Rora had picked up her laptop, but he’d swooped in to take it from her and put it back on the table while shaking his head.
So her laptop wasn’t good enough for him? Whatever. She had a cloud account and he had a machine, Rora was prepared to play nice with him as long as he played nice with her.
She wasn’t a pro on a motorcycle, but he had no time or patience to ease her in, so she had to learn fast. Clinging to him, she clenched tight and closed her eyes when they began whizzing down the highway. The city streets had been tough enough to deal with, but when they got onto the open road, it seemed they were going so fast that they might take off.
Wishing for a car when it got dark, Rora was beginning to get tired, but couldn’t relax. She had to keep hold of him, and her fear of falling asleep and falling off made her cling to him tighter.
When they slowed down, she lifted her head and was so relieved to see they were pulling into a truck stop with a diner, a gas station, and a motel in back. He drove around to the back of the diner, parking up in a dark corner that would be visible from the rear seats in the eatery.
Rora was forced to fumble her way off the bike when Strike got off. Her legs were like jelly and she had to grab for him to steady herself. It felt like her muscles had been through a vice and a grinder, she ached, all over.
His mood hadn’t improved, he took her hand off the bike, like he was offended she was touching it, then pushed her other hand from his forearm. When they were separated, even though she was still wobbling, he grabbed his laptop from the bike and strode off, heading for the diner without even waiting for her.
It was amazing that this guy had ever had any kind of girlfriend at all if he dismissed women like this, even those in need. Maybe him and this Bella were a perfect match, she hated men, and it was seeming more and more like he hated women.
Without any other choice, Rora pulled herself together and scampered after him. By the time she caught up, he’d already gone inside and picked a booth with a view of his bike and the door of the diner. He was examining a laminated menu when she slid into the seat opposite him.
Glancing up, like he had timed it perfectly, he made eye contact with the waitress who came scurrying over. “Two black coffees, two ice waters, two burgers with everything and fries.” The waitress breathed in to speak, but he cut her off. “That’s all. Nothing else.”
The waitress glanced at her, then turned to walk away and put in the order. “Ordering for me?” Rora asked, rubbing her thighs beneath the table, hoping to relieve some of their ache. “Aren’t you prehistoric? Maybe I don’t like meat or coffee.”
Spinning his laptop around to face him, he flipped it open and cracked his knuckles. “You started drinking coffee when you were thirteen, stopped taking milk in it when you were sixteen and cut out the sugar when you were twenty.”
She didn’t have any idea how a person would know that. He was right. But that just made it all the more freaky. But he was too busy frowning at his computer to bother noticing her surprise.
Pushing her lips to the side, Rora linked her fingers and straightened up to try peeking over his laptop. He put a hand on the top of it and pulled it an inch closer to him, scowling at her attempt.
So she sat back, chewed her lip for a second, then sighed. “You aren’t a very good date.”
“This isn’t a date.”
“Are you saying you’d be more attentive if it was?” she asked. “How did you bag Bella?”
His fingers paused for half a beat, then continued. “If I’d bagged her, I’d have tagged her,” he said, and she didn’t get it, which he must have realized because he stopped typing. “Like a toe tag. Body bag. Toe tag.”
In a wide, silent, ‘ah’ her mouth opened. He was typing again. Rora squeezed her palms together beneath her joined fingers, hunching her shoulders at the same time. “Do you really think you could kill a woman you’d slept with?”
“Wouldn’t be the first one,” he mumbled.
“How do you do that thing where you distort your voice?”
“I carry tech, stops people listening in. Distorts video footage too.”
It was a wonder that he was so casual about admitting his crimes and circumventing the law. “How did you get my license from me and put it back on the table like that? You didn’t even touch me.” He said nothing. “What about Benjamin’s license, where did you get that?”
“It’s a fake,” he said. “And I took your license to prove a point.”
“What point?”
“Carrying ID is an amateur mistake. If I could get it, anyone could, I learned everything about your entire life from that one card. And if you have ID and the cops stop you, that’s it, over… For someone like you anyway.”
“And you?” she asked. “You don’t carry ID?”
“I don’t have ID. Period,” he said. “I’m not on any database either… not for long anyway.”
Peering at him, she watched the intensity of his focus. This guy was beyond an enigma, all she had were questions. “I don’t believe that,” she said. “I heard you were wanted in a bunch of countries, that means you’ve travelled. You can’t travel without ID.”
“Says who?” he asked and paused to look at the ceiling as if he was considering something before he stopped working to look at her. “First, you don’t have to be in a country to break their laws. Sitting right here at this table, I’ve added myself to—and erased myself from—at least three wanted lists, and none of them belong to the country we’re sitting in.”
“So, you’re on their wanted lists without ever leaving the country you were born in? You’ve really never been out of the country?”
“Who says I was born here?” he asked.
“Oh my God!” she exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “Where were you born?”
“That’s a question a lot of people would like answered,” he said and went back to ty
ping.
But she pushed the lid of the laptop down, almost trapping his fingers again. His hands balled to fists that he dumped on the table on either side of the computer, while he huffed through tight lips.
“Strike—”
“Stop saying my name in public,” he said, but she glanced around and there were only three other people there; one guy at the counter, and another couple way on the other side of the room. “Get out of the habit.”
“Are you an American?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes,” she said. “I don’t get it. I don’t get why you covet this reputation. Do you know what people say about you?”
“That I broke every one of the ten commandments the day I first walked your mortal earth? That Satan himself spat me out of hell for trying to take over? Yeah, I’ve heard what they say.”
“And?”
“People leave me alone,” he said, opening the laptop. “I like the stories.”
“Didn’t work on me.”
Her lips turned up in a grin, and she hunched down to hide herself behind the top of his laptop, letting herself peek over it at him with glittering mischievous eyes.
“We’ve already established that you’re… you know…” he said, little emotion in his words.
It was nice that he didn’t say the word she hated so much. “Is any of it true? Any of the stories?”
“My father was Satan,” he said, “that one’s true.”
“Maybe we’re related,” she said, thinking of her brother and his father.
“Could be.”
He spoke without his fingers slowing or his expression changing, but such a statement buried itself into her consciousness. She wanted to know more but would save getting into parentage for a later date because the last thing she wanted to do was talk about her own.
“Isn’t it lonely?” she asked. “How long were you with Bella? Does she know everything about you?”
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