EIGHT
Decima
If the fourmen who’d taken me into their home were at all offended that I insisted on making my own plate at dinner—acting as if I didn’t want to impose on them any more than I already was—none of them called me on it. I didn’t intend to let any of them touch my food or drink again.
I didn’t know what had made me so tired earlier today. It could have been an aftereffect from the crash. Or it could have been something funny about the hot chocolate Garrison had given me. He might have used its deliciousness to cover up something much more ominous.
I’d only woken up just before dinner, the smell of frying chicken and garlic making my mouth water. It seemed reasonable to eat when I could to get my energy up for my escape. I was increasingly sure that as soon as I pushed the issue, it’d come to a fight. I had to be totally ready for that fight, or I’d end up even worse off than I was now.
When I ducked into my bedroom after dinner, I tucked bills from the rolls of cash into my pants pockets, my bra, and even the waist of my panties—as much as I could carry without my cargo being noticeable through my clothes. I didn’t want the men to have any clue I intended to make a break for it until the last second. The jewelry I’d have to leave behind, but it’d have been a hassle to pawn it anyway. Cash was simple and straightforward, like any good mission should be.
I lingered for a moment over my tote bag. Leaving behind my other change of clothes was no big deal—I could buy or steal more—but a strange sadness prodded my chest when I thought of abandoning the stuffed tiger.
Ridiculous. It wasn’t as if I could stuff that in my bra and have no one notice. A fuzzy toy wasn’t exactly necessary to any of my plans.
I pushed the unexpected ache deep down inside me like the other random emotions that rose up now and then and ambled back into the living area, acting as casual as I could.
Four pairs of eyes tracked my movements the moment I emerged. I wasn’t getting away with much at this exact moment. I’d need to examine the door and the windows more closely and position myself when I asked about leaving so I could spring for my best escape route as soon as they showed their hand.
For the time being, I sat down on the sofa in front of the TV and groped around for the remote. There had to be information about the murders on the news, right? Maybe I’d hear something that would help my mission, like potential suspects or evidence police had uncovered.
I turned the TV on and flipped through the channels, watching for a newscast. I hadn’t actually watched the news often. The broadcasts never showed up on my TV in the household, and whenever I’d been in the middle of an assignment and had access to a TV, channel surfing had felt like an unprofessional distraction.
Even now, as my finger tapped the button, Noelle’s voice echoed in the back of my head. When you’re on a mission, nothing matters but that mission. Keep your eyes on the prize.
The muscles in my hand twitched, and I almost put the remote down. But looking for news was part of my current mission, even if Noelle hadn’t assigned it to me. I wasn’t getting to the prize of destroying the people who’d slaughtered the household until I knew more about them.
Blaze plopped down on the sofa a couple of feet across from me. “Planning to watch anything in particular?”
“I feel like I’ve been out of touch for days,” I said. “I figured I’d check the news and see if I missed anything important.”
“Ah, you want channel 26, then. All news, all the time.” He grinned.
I tapped in the numbers, and the screen immediately flashed to a view of some kind of political press release room. The newscaster’s voice droned over the visual. “The surprising outcome of Bill 401 is sweeping through the nation. Damien Malik, with the tie-breaking vote, sent this historic bill into effect. Now, we as a nation must ask ourselves: What does this mean for us? We can expect—”
We could expect me not to give a shit. I leaned back, waiting for the story to switch.
Over the next half hour, the reporters covered a business merger, an overseas military operation, some storefront vandalism, and a rabid raccoon. Apparently all of those things were more pressing than a dozen people brutally slaughtered in their home. I frowned at the TV. They were going to get to the household eventually, weren’t they?
“If you’re looking for something specific, you could borrow my laptop,” Blaze offered, gesturing to the computer on the coffee table.
I eyed the device and then glanced at the man beside me. I’d rarely had unrestricted access to a private computer, but I knew that one internet search could bring up thousands of results. But should I be suspicious of his motives?
“If you wouldn’t mind,” I said.
He snatched it up before I could reach for it myself and handed it over with one of his wide smiles. “Anything for a pretty lady.”
A prickle ran down my spine at the flirty compliment, but he didn’t move any closer, and his tone was more playful than… than the low, sweet tones in my memory that made my hackles come up. I smiled back mildly, containing my adverse reaction, and opened the laptop.
Sliding over on the sofa, I tucked myself into the corner and surreptitiously angled the screen so none of the men in the room should be able to see it. Then I quickly typed in the city name and the word “massacre.”
Nothing came up except a couple of results about a short story competition years earlier where one of the winners included that word in the title. Was I being too poetic about it? I switched to the more basic “murders.”
That got me a bunch more articles, but none of them were from the past couple of days. Knitting my brow, I found the option to sort by date, but that didn’t help either.
What the hell? How could no one have reported on this yet? Had nobody noticed the carnage after a whole day?
I guessed it was possible. I had no idea how much the people in the household normally interacted with anyone outside, who might have come by in the past twenty-four hours and discovered the bodies. But still…