Breakfast, assessments, and a little interrogation.
Thursday, October 10th, 5:41 am
I blinked, not sure where I was for a heartbeat.
Still in bed? With her?
No… that wasn’t it.
I blinked again, clearing the sleep and sand as I stared up at the ceiling… remembering.
The weight of her body in my arms… how soft… how very real she felt.
I already missed the slow press of her breasts against my chest as she held me close.
Her ragged breathing still echoed in my ears.
God, my dick was already rock hard at the memory of her.
I’d grown accustomed to tasting someone new on a regular basis. There was Liana, the Dominican-American dancer who’d joined me in the hot tub after we broke from the rest of the group that night on the roof.
There had also been the dancers on the yacht. Leonie, Melina, and Iryna were very grateful for my sponsorship and for the use of the yacht.
But there was something different about finally fucking someone you’d been circling for weeks. All the flirting. The longing looks… the lingering thoughts that haunted a mind that should have been focused on anything else.
Tension turning into touch. Hunger becoming tasting—that build-up made the payoff its own kind of pleasure.
I’d felt all of that last night with Camille.
The turn-on had been next level once I realized that William was not only in the house, but that he knew that I was fucking his fiancée.
It surprised me how much I’d been into the idea of taking another man’s woman. Especially a man as handsome and well-off as William. The idea that a woman like Camille would want me when she already had a man like him was an aphrodisiac of its own.
It made me feel powerful in some new way that I couldn’t quite identify.
Or maybe I wasn’t quite ready to face the dark urge coiled deep within.
I felt a body stir beside me and my fuzzy head began to realize that I hadn’t fallen asleep alone after all.
It just wasn’t with Camille.
Blinking once more to clear my vision, I focused on the silver head of a young woman curled against me, her head resting on my shoulder.
Erin—the ultimate engineer of last night’s tryst with my engaged chef.
She wasn’t just asleep. She was out cold.
As I shifted on the bed to get a better look at her, brushing silver gossamer from her face, she didn’t even stir. Her dead weight persisted, and I felt a faint line of drool on my chest. It was another sign of just how tired she was.
Camille was already gone from my mind. All I could see was the woman beside me, her naked body huddled against mine under the sheets.
I let my fingers drift through her hair, just watching her… enjoying her. God, she was beautiful.
In her unconscious state, her face was less elfin and exotic and more… innocent. Her high cheekbones and sharp but delicate jaw were softer as she slept peacefully beside me. Her lips that had done so many filthy things to me were now lightly parted in a gentle snore that resembled a purr. One arm draped loosely over my torso, the other tucked in close. A single slender leg crossed the tops of my thighs.
The sheets tangled around her hips, the soft rise and fall of her bare back exposed in the early morning light. I could feel the subtle twitch of her fingers now and then, a sign that she was dreaming. I only hoped they were good dreams. Erin deserved peace in her sleep.
I dragged my fingertips slowly down her spine, careful not to wake her. She still didn’t stir… just a soft sigh, and then back to silence.
She was just Erin. No tricks. No games. Just a vulnerable girl who trusted me enough to fall into a deep sleep in my bed.
It was like she’d been made specifically for me, and in that moment, I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d rather be sharing this bed with than her. There was no denying it. I was falling for this girl.
I leaned forward and kissed the top of her head.
“Missed this,” I whispered into her hair.
Minutes ticked by as I let myself indulge in her before finally sliding my shoulder free and gently laying her head on the pillow. Once again, she didn’t even stir.
What the hell have they been putting you through? I thought as I slipped out of bed, watching my beautiful little assistant sleep soundly as I donned my robe.
Erin remained asleep while I got out of bed… considering that she was normally the early-riser, this was a historic moment.
I gave her one more kiss on the head, letting my fingers linger on her baby-soft skin, and slipped out to start my day.
Ten minutes later, dressed in jeans and a hoodie, I stepped out onto the balcony surrounding the open common room below and glanced down. It was rare to see it this early—dimly lit and ghostly, without a single person in sight.
I turned and headed toward the stairs, pulling out my phone to check my messages. The first one that grabbed my attention was a text from Psalter—He finally woke up around 3 am. Went back to sleep after drinking some fluids and eating a little. He’ll be ready for you in the morning.
A thrill of excitement shot through me as I remembered what that bastard had done to me. He’d beat me… pissed on me… he’d been intent on killing me once the time came. Had it not been for Chloe, he might have done it, too. I wanted him to answer for his crimes.
But I still needed to talk to Helen, first. He needed to pay for the decades of abuse and neglect he’d doled out to her as well.
A text from her let me know that she’d made it back here around four in the morning and had decided to sleep for a few hours in her own room. Reluctant to wake her, I decided to pass the time in my study.
I’d just started to wonder if I was the only one awake when I reached the top of the stairs—and saw Emiko at the bottom.
She’d been about to climb, but stepped back when she saw me, folding her hands neatly in front of her.
I was still getting used to people waiting for me.
I descended, and she didn’t speak until I reached the landing.
“Waking up early, I see,” she said with a slight bow of her head.
“I ended up going to bed a little early last night. Don’t get used to it.”
Starting toward my study, Emiko accompanied me.
“Are you always up this early?” I asked.
“It depends,” Emiko said softly, gliding next to me. “If my duties require me to stay up, I will sleep later. If I am required to get up early, I will go to bed earlier. I try to get nine hours of sleep nightly.”
“Nine!?” I stopped mid-step and gaped.
“Indeed.”
“How do you manage that?”
“It has been a challenge,” she admitted. “In previous roles, I had an assistant to help manage my charges. Here, the duties are less demanding, so I’ve managed.”
“Nine hours,” I said, picking up the pace again. “No wonder you always look like you’re glowing.”
It was true. Emiko never looked like she’d had a bad day. Her skin was luminous, her face flawless, her hair always exactly where it was meant to be.It was as if the woman had just stepped out of a bath, regardless of the time of day.
I’d always assumed it was a brutal self-care routine, and maybe it was, but nine hours of sleep certainly didn’t hurt. It also explained why she looked years younger than thirty-eight.
She gave me a demure little smile that lit up the hallway. “Thank you for your kind words, sir.”
“It’s just the truth,” I said, unable to maintain prolonged eye contact. It always felt like Emiko was studying my soul when our gazes met, but whatever this moment between us was, it made looking into those dark brown eyes a little like looking into a light that was just a little too bright.
“So, do you need someone?” I asked.
“Are you asking about my romantic life again, sir?” she asked, a hint of amusement to her words.
“What? No!” I said, glancing back into those too-bright eyes. “I meant…”
“I’m aware of what you meant,” she said, rescuing me from my own awkwardness. “I was planning on broaching the subject with you once your current troubles were settled, but since you’ve asked, I have been training Mrs. Lucas a little in the art of household management.”
“Wait… Phoebe?”
“Yes,” she confirmed as I opened the door to my study. She walked in as I held the open door open, a corner of her mouth quirking up in appreciation. “She has a firm foundation in the basic skills, and her situation has left her desperate for a new life, making her motivated and a quick study.”
“Does she have the personality to do what you do?”
Emiko shook her head. “It would be years before I would consider giving her my level of responsibility or control. Currently, as a survivor of domestic abuse, she’s non-confrontational in a way that would make her unfit. Given time and the proper guidance, I believe that could change.”
“Um… okay,” I said, taking a seat behind my desk.
“You approve?”
I shrugged. “I like Phoebe, and I trust your judgement. What would this arrangement look like?”
“Your household will continue to grow,” Emiko said. “As it does, it will require more of my attention. When you believe it is safe, Phoebe can move back to this building and maintain your primary home when I am resting, taking a holiday, or traveling with you. While here, she will accompany me and learn everything I have to teach her. In household matters, I speak with your authority. She would speak with mine.”
“Are you training her as your replacement?”
“Your key staff should always be training a replacement in case something happens to them,” Emiko said. “Does Miss Malik have a replacement?”
“Miss Malik isn’t going anywhere,” I said a little too quickly.
Emiko caught it. Her dark eyes were razor sharp as they studied me.
“And if something unforeseen happens?”
“Like what?”
“Forgive me for suggesting the possibility, but you are trying to resolve a feud between yourself and Hiro Tanaka, correct? Your life has been exposed to so much danger since you came into your fortune. What if she were to be kidnapped? Or killed? Is there someone who could replace her?”
I hated where this was going but couldn’t help seeing the reasoning behind what she was suggesting. “No.”
“You care very much for Miss Malik. If something were to happen to her, you would need time to grieve. That can only happen if there is someone who knows everything Miss Malik knows—who would be able to continue to serve as capably as she does.”
“I… don’t want to think about that,” I admitted.
“And you shouldn’t have to. I can talk to her about it, if you’d like.”
“No,” I said. “You’re right. She should probably have someone she’s training… maybe her own assistant. I’ll handle it. I probably need to have a hand in picking this person out anyway.” I waited a beat, then said, “Thanks, though.”
She nodded deferentially. “I’m sorry to touch on such a sensitive subject so early in the morning.”
I shook my head. “No. It’s okay. I just… I left her sleeping up there, and…”
I shivered at the thought of having to mourn her.
Emiko’s eyes were soft as she watched me, her smile tinged with empathy. “I think your feelings for Miss Malik are deeper than those of a close friend.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, sir. You’re building peace with the Tanakas, and the security firm you’ve hired is one of the best in your country. I’m simply suggesting a precaution, and neither Miss Manalo nor Mrs. VanCamp will do. It should be someone dedicated to providing you the level of service Miss Malik provides.”
“I’ll talk to her about it.”
She nodded.
“You’re going to hire someone to replace Phoebe at the vacation home?” I asked.
“Yes, sir. So that when the time comes for her to move back, service won’t be interrupted. Do you have any preferences?”
“What do you mean?”
Emiko had to suppress a chuckle. “In aesthetics. I assume you would prefer someone you’re attracted to?”
A few weeks ago, a question like that might’ve stunned me—and I would’ve needed time to shake off the shock. However, I was getting used to conversations like this. Emiko and Erin, especially, had done a damn good job of burning the puritan out of me.
I was a wealthy young man with a very active sex life, and as long as everyone knew the score, what was the harm?
But how the hell was I supposed to answer a question like that? Find a redhead?
What was I supposed to say? Dark hair, bust between C and D, here’s the skin tone swatch, make sure she’s got a South African accent?
“I’ll leave that to you,” I said. “Surprise me.”
Yeah… I was still adjusting.
“Very well,” Emiko said, a knowing glint in her dark eyes, “and may I assume that since Camille was absent all evening, that was the reason you didn’t return to the apartment until the early hours?”
I’d just opened my laptop. My fingers paused on the lid as I looked up.
She met my gaze without flinching, giving nothing away about how she felt about me fucking the chef.
“I trust she’ll remain in her position?”
“Why wouldn’t she?”
“Sexual relationships often breed complications.”
“Hasn’t been a problem yet,” I pointed out. “No complications. We both knew what we were getting into.”
“And the fiancé?”
“Won’t be a problem.”
“You’re sure?”
“Apparently, he likes this sort of thing.”
Emiko’s tone stayed neutral. “I would recommend letting your security team know about this new arrangement. William might not be a threat—but this kind of thing invites enmity.”
“I’m not telling Hannon Security that I’m fucking my chef and her fiancé is cool with it,” I protested.
“No,” she mused. “I suppose not. At least inform Miss Tanner, then.”
She was right. Besides… they likely knew anyway. I just didn’t relish the idea of explaining my sex life to every member of my security team.
“Chloe, then,” I said. “She can fill in the rest of the team if she thinks they need to know.”
I’d eaten Chloe out more than once; knowing about Camille wouldn’t faze her.
“Thank you,” Emiko said. “I’ll leave you to your morning. Shall I send Jessica with breakfast when it is ready?”
“Yeah,” I said, “Helen’s here, right?”
“Yes, sir. Shall I wake her?”
I wanted to let her sleep, but Roger was waiting, and I was pretty impatient to see him. “Wake her up after Jessica’s delivered breakfast.”
“Yes, sir,” Emiko said with a slight bow of her head. She then turned and left me alone, silently closing the study door behind her.
I picked up my phone and reread Psalter’s message—then set it aside. I needed a distraction from Roger. I opened my laptop and started scrolling through the news.
Anything negative seemed to roll off my back like I was untouchable.
Today was going to be a good fucking day.
*****
Thursday, October 10th, 6:51 am
Nearly an hour passed before Jessica entered with breakfast.
By then, I’d grown bored of the news and had moved on to emails. Vikram was still duking it out with Tanaka’s lawyers. Erin and Helen had submitted reports—everything in the preliminary audits looked solid. Chandler wanted help dealing with a nosy CFO.
And Natalie was asking if she could come over tonight.
I glanced up as Jessica set a tray on the corner of my desk. She was quiet… her eyes down cast as she worked. It was a shift from how she used to act… like our past gave her special privileges.
That no longer seemed to be the case.
I realized I hadn’t even noticed her in over a week.
Now, watching her, even more changes stood out. There was a little less padding and curvature to her hips, although her chest remained just as full.
Was Emiko having her train with Tara?
“Hey, Jess,” I said, once she’d removed the cover, and poured fresh coffee and orange juice, setting the former on the desk beside my laptop.
Her granite eyes fixed on me, and I could see the war brewing behind them—familiarity, relief, uncertainty, and reluctance.
“Yes… sir?” she said, hesitating on the last word as if she’d wanted to call me something else.
“How’ve you been doing?”
“I… fine,” she said, uncertainty winning out over all the other emotions.
“Good. Come here.”
She straightened and smoothed out the skirt on her maid’s uniform as she cast her eyes downward. Then she hesitantly moved around the desk toward me.
I wanted more than just breakfast, and Jess was looking good in that uniform—her ample, pale cleavage on full display in that window cut into the chest of her clothes.
Suddenly remembering how I’d been turned on earlier when I woke up, I wanted some entertainment to go with my breakfast. Unfortunately, Helen would be here soon, and there were more exciting things to focus on other than my ex-girlfriend.
But for the moment…
Jessica swallowed as she approached me, and I grabbed her hand, stroking the back of it with my thumb as I gently pulled her toward me. Spinning her around, I coaxed her to sit across my lap. My hand slid across her soft stomach and then began slipping up the prominent curve of her breast, fingertips brushing the buttery-smooth skin of her upper breasts as they traced its opening.
I dipped my fingers into the silken canyon between her tits and drew them upward, traversing between her collarbones and dipping into the hollow of her throat on the way up her throat. Brushing her chin, down her soft jaw as our eyes met, I cupped it in my hand and held her gaze on me.
My cock was hard under her, and I knew for a fact that she could feel it… just as I could see the arousal stoked within her. My ring finger and pinkie brushed the hollow over her carotid as I held her face in my hand, and I could feel her pulse race; her breathing was shallow and quick.
“How long has it been since we did it?”
A hitch in her breathing. “Since… Bobbi.”
“Ah. Yeah. That.”
I’d taken both of them the morning after Helen had put Bobbi through pure hell as an object lesson to Carla.
My thumb ran over Jessica’s cherry red lips, and they parted just enough for me to slip the tip between them. Her tongue flicked across it as she softly sucked, her body language practically begging me to use her.
“Tell Emiko that when I’m done with breakfast, I want you back in here, waiting for me. I want to know more about how you’ve been doing.”
She gave a slight nod with my finger still in her mouth, and as I extracted it, the suction grew stronger, as if she were trying to keep my thumb from escaping. It finally popped free, and she simply sat on my lap, staring down at me with an unasked question in her eyes.
“Go on,” I said, slapping her lightly on her ass. “Let me eat and wait for me to call you.”
She only hesitated a fraction of a second before sliding off my lap to stand up straight and compose herself, finally turning around.
My old girlfriend gave me a small, unsteady curtsey and asked in a meek voice, “Will that be all, sir?”
A curtsey? What have you been doing to her, Emiko?
“That’s all for now. Thanks, Jess.”
She gave me a brief smile, and then retreated from the study as I stood, walked around to the front of my desk, and leaned against the edge.
I picked up my fork and began picking through my food—all my favorites. The ingredients of an open-faced burrito lie on top of a slab of Texas-style toast, with a side of thick-cut bacon and a small bowl of oatmeal mixed with peanut butter and chia seeds.
The last bit had to be Tara’s dietary influence.
If I inspected the rest of the food under a microscope, I’d probably more health-conscious tweaks, but Camille managed to make the cleanest meals taste almost sinful.
I lifted one slice of toast and took a bite. Sage and a dash of heat mixed with the savory dish to create something rich. I chewed slowly, savoring it, before setting it down.
Then I picked up the cloth napkin.
Just as I brought it to my mouth, a scent stopped me—floral, spicy, and familiar.
It made me smile.
Of course it was familiar. I’d gone to bed covered in it.
I glanced down at the napkin as I appreciated the oh-so subtle message from the French woman whose arms I’d fallen asleep in last night. It was like a secret kiss stolen when no one else was looking.
Just in case there were any other hidden messages, I scanned the entire breakfast spread but couldn't spot anything.
And then came a knock at the door.
“Come in!” I called out, dropping the napkin back on the tray.
Helen slipped in, her glossy hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. She was wearing a faded Yale sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants that didn’t match. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she actually looked like she could have used about three days of sleep just to feel normal again.
And yet, she still looked fucking beautiful to me.
“Hey,” I said. “Have a seat. You want some breakfast? Coffee?”
“Yes, please!”
Helen did as ordered and dropped into one of the seats on the other side of my desk. Now that she was much closer, I could see even more of the damage that exhaustion had done to my lawyer. I closed the distance and dropped into the seat next to her.
“God, Helen. You look like a train wreck.”
“It was just a late night. Nothing that a few hours of sleep can’t cure.”
“Fuck that,” I said. “Nothing that a full day’s rest can’t cure.”
Helen shook her head. “I can’t—”
“That’s not a suggestion, Helen,” I said, only a little surprised at how easily and quickly I slid into that tone—not nearly as surprised as Helen.
“Sir,” Helen started tiredly.
“You have an army of lawyers,” I said. “Get them to handle what they can. Anything else can wait till tomorrow. I can’t have you making mistakes because you’re not sleeping. After we’re done here, go get some sleep. Then go to the massage parlor. I’ll make sure Shea is available to take care of you.”
She managed a tired smile, and despite her protests, it felt grateful. “Thank you.”
“You can thank me later. After you’ve gotten some rest,” I said.
Erin wasn’t the only one I’d been missing over the last couple of weeks.
“Now… back to the main reason you’re here.”
“Erin mentioned something about a package? Something Astrid left?”
“Yeah,” I said, leaning forward and planting my elbows on my knees. “Helen, we have Roger.”
Her war with exhaustion was over in an instant as life and light snapped back into those ice-blue eyes.
“What?”
“Astrid caught him. She had him delivered like some kind of peace offering.”
Helen licked her lips. “He's here? In New York?”
I nodded. “He’s in a secure apartment—next to Ryo.”
She simply stared at me… then swallowed. I couldn’t tell if she was relieved or upset. “How?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Astrid hasn’t explained how they caught him.”
She blinked and looked past me toward the window, where a spectacular sunrise was in its full, golden glory.
“Astrid gave me an ultimatum. I could accept her gift and bury the hatchet with her, or send it back, and I’d never hear from her again. I tried to call you before I made a decision, but you were busy.”
Helen still stared out the window, making no acknowledgement that she’d heard me.
“Helen, I told Astrid I would keep him.”
Her gaze snapped back to me, and in an instant, she went from spaced-out to doing a thousand calculations a second.
“I couldn’t just give Roger up. Not without talking to him. There’s a strong possibility he knows things about Tanaka, Bell, and Brantwood that might be really useful, but in keeping him, I have to handle her carefully.”
“Because she could endanger the deal with Hiro,” Helen said, piecing it together.
I nodded.
“Marcus…”
“I know,” I said, standing up. There was too much nervous energy in my body to stay seated.
“There was no need…”
“I know!” I repeated.
I knew precisely what Helen was thinking. Had I simply given Roger back to Astrid, I could have told her to fuck right off, and it would have been business as usual. Instead, I’d held onto him with the intent of possibly finding more dirt on Tanaka.
In reality, that wasn’t necessary. If my plan worked, I’d declaw and defang the entire Tanaka family, and I wouldn’t have to worry about them again.
Instead, I’d introduced a variable—a wildcard named Astrid that could jeopardize Plan A—in hopes of gaining a Plan B.
That thought had been haunting me every moment that I hadn’t been distracted.
“But you’re not thinking about the next move after this, Helen.”
Her eyes were full of doubt. “What ‘next move?’”
“Amber will still be out there even after Tanka falls, and Roger has to have dirt on her.”
I was rewarded with a flicker of uncertainty behind those icy blues and could practically read her mind—maybe the naive young master wasn’t a complete idiot after all.
“What’s more,” I continued, “you guys were my grandpa’s lawyers before he died. Roger was pretty close to him, right?”
“They weren’t best friends,” Helen said, “but they had a fair amount in common— especially a love for golf.”
I pointed a finger at Helen. “Exactly. He has ties to my grandpa and Tanaka. My grandpa and one of Tanaka’s victims, Rajesh, were likely killed with the same poison. Roger might be another way of linking the two. He might be able to confirm that Tanaka killed Colin Gerrard.”
“God, Marcus,” Helen sighed.
“Tell me I’m wrong!”
“No. I see how it makes sense but combined with this maneuver against Hiro… you’re borrowing trouble.”
“I know,” I sighed, stopping beside my desk to pick up my coffee, “But Helen, I’ve seriously considered walking away more than once in the last few weeks. I chose to stay, but survival isn’t a win anymore. If I’m doing this, I’m not treading water. I’m building a fucking boat.”
I eyed Helen from over the rim of my mug as I took a sip of a particularly delicious cup of coffee.
Jesus. Did fucking Camille magically improve her coffee? I should’ve fucked her sooner.
Helen stared back at me, and then rose from her seat, an eyebrow arched.
Had she hated the metaphor? I thought it’d been pretty damn good.
She stepped closer and gently took the mug from my hands, concern fading into something akin to amusement.
“Marcus,” she said, lifting the cup so we both could see. “if you’re going to play on this level, you have to see everything… or surround yourself with the kind of team who can.”
“Okay?” I said, a little confused.
I tilted my head, squinting at the underside of the cup where a crimson kiss had been laid against the porcelain—another secret message from last night’s lover.
Helen pressed the mug back in my hands, looking a little smug.
“Oh, come on,” I protested. “How was I supposed to see that?”
“That’s the point,” she said, her voice soft and serious.
“This game was dangerous before. But the moment you start adding new variables, it becomes lethal. If you don’t want to die, or get the rest of us killed, you need to trust me… talk to me before you make moves like this.”
“I talked to Erin and Chloe,” I said.
“I’d like to think I have some wisdom to impart that they don’t have,” Helen said dryly.
“You were out of pocket!” I protested.
“Then wait till I’m back in pocket,” Helen said. “Please.”
I sighed. “Astrid didn’t give me a choice.”
“Make her give you a choice,” Helen said. “If you’re going to handle Astrid, then you’ve got to start thinking differently, otherwise she is going to walk all over you.”
I couldn’t argue with that. I’d stood up to her before. I could do it again.
“That’s fair,” I said, “but I’m right about this. I can feel it.”
“I’m not saying you’re wrong. What you’re saying makes sense. Just make sure to loop us all in next time.”
“Fine,” I said, “but in the meantime, what do you want to do with Roger?”
“I don’t know,” Helen said. “I just found out he’s in this building. I need time, and I’m too tired to think right now.”
“I’m going to go visit him as soon as I finish breakfast. Do you want to come with?”
Helen shook her head. “If you were serious about giving me the day off, I think I’ll go back to bed for a while and then take advantage of Shea.”
“Can’t wait to hear how that goes,” I said. “So, no coffee then?”
Helen shook her head. “I doubt it’d do much good anyway. Just… fill me in on what Roger says, and rain check on visiting him. I want to… just when I’m in the proper head space for it.”
“Whatever you need, Helen,” I said, raising the cup to my lips.
As I took another sip of coffee, Helen reached up and smeared some of the lipstick across her thumb and popped it in her mouth, sucking it off. Despite still looking exhausted, there was a hint of arousal in her eyes.
“Hmm,” she mused. “How was she?”
I wasn’t going to insult her intelligence by playing dumb. “Camille’s an artist—in more ways than one.”
*****
Thursday, October 10th, 8:09 am
The door opened just enough to reveal one of Psalter’s dark eyes.
It closed, a chain rattled, and then it opened all the way, my fixer standing to the side and beckoning me to enter.
“Thanks,” I said, stepping into the apartment foyer with Chloe on my heels. There was a woman leaning against the wall with a hand resting on a holstered pistol strapped to her thigh.
I wandered past her and down the hallway. “Where is he?”
“In the second bedroom,” Psalter said as he followed. “He threw up all over the bed about five minutes after giving him water. Soaked the sheets, so we moved him.”
“Gross,” I said, poking my head in the living room. Six men had taken up residence in there. One had commandeered the coffee table and had turned it into a work station, where he seemed to be repairing some kind of circuit board. A rail-thin young man was leaning against the window, pieces of a gun strewn on a towel between his legs; he was cleaning it while obnoxiously chewing on a large wad of gum.
The rest were sitting around a sixty-inch flat-screen watching ‘This is Us.’ The juxtaposition of seeing hardened mercenaries watching a heartwarming TV show about parent/child relationships wasn’t lost on me.
The entire apartment was a mirror image of Ryo’s.
I glanced at Psalter. “Show me.”
He led the way down a hall, inserted a key in a deadbolt, opened the door, and stepped to the side, allowing me to go in first.
Chloe put a hand on my shoulder, and when I nodded in assent, she slipped past me and preceded me into the room. I followed right behind her.
There was no need for my bodyguard.
Roger VanCamp was out cold, dressed in a pair of loose boxers and a baggy Looney Tunes shirt showing Bugs Bunny eating a carrot. His hair was thinner than when I’d last seen it, with half lying flat against his scalp while the other half stood straight out like the fine needles on a cactus. Days of growth formed a scratchy beard across a face that showed signs of weight loss. His thighs were covered with faded welts that looked unmistakably familiar—like the ones Bobbi had earned from her time in Norway.
Needless to say, now that I could see him out of that rubber suit, Roger VanCamp looked like a pale imitation of the handsome, arrogant man I had once known.
“Hey, Chloe?” I said softly.
“Yeah?”
“Could you wake him up for me?”
“Sure.”
Without hesitation, Chloe stepped forward, grabbed Roger by a bare foot, and hauled him off the bed.
The poor man squawked and flailed as he was rudely awakened, sliding toward the foot of the bed like he was shooting down a waterslide. Instead of hitting a nice, comfortable pool of water, though, he hit the hardwood floor with an unceremonious thud.
Chloe let go of his foot and took a step back as Roger cried out, kicked at the air, then huddled back against the box springs, trying to make his body as small as possible.
I stepped forward and crouched in front of the defenseless old man and gave him a faux-friendly smile. “Hey Rog… it’s been a while.”