Page 7 of Wicked Little Game
“Nothing,” I say, slightly relieved as I walk back downstairs. She’s here and seems to be occupied, so I decide to take a closer look at the house.
There are two guest bedrooms on the first floor and they look exactly the same, almost like hotel rooms. Fancy box spring beds, big TVs and bathrooms that are stocked like spas. Everything in there is gray or white. I’m not one to decorate excessively, but even I have to admit this house could use a touch of color.
I also wonder who the hell needs so much space. There’s a third bedroom that’s bigger, furnished a bit differently, but it also doesn’t look really lived in. I figure that this must be Mr. Barrons's bedroom as I open closet doors and drawers. There are a few pieces of clothing in it, mostly dress shirts and old suits. As I shove a few coat hooks aside, something topples over in the back of the closet.
“Shit,” I mutter as I see that the barrel of a rifle points directly at my crotch. I get a tissue from the main bathroom before I touch it, not wanting to get my fingerprints on it.
Upon closer inspection, I recognize the weapon as an A-545, a rifle used by Russian Spetsnaz units. I take a picture of the serial number to send to Rockwell later. Maybe they can find out a bit more about the way it took until it ended up in Mr. Barrons’ closet.
We already know about the fact that he hasbusiness relationswith a few people in Russia, but perhaps this could help us shed more light on the crowd he’s affiliated with.
This first round of gathering evidence is going quite well, so I put everything back in its place before I head out of his bedroom and make my way over to the hallway next to the kitchen.
The door at the end of the hallway is locked, unlike all the other doors in this house. Not even Mr. Barron's bedroom was locked, and it doesn’t take a mastermind to figure that there is something of importance hidden behind it. I crouch down to inspect the lock, but a sudden sound coming from above startles me.
Of course, Ruby leaves her room right in the second where I don’t need it at all.
“Snooping around is for kids,” she says as she strides down the stairs.
“I’m not snooping around, I just dropped something,” I say as I stand back up and look at her.
“Don’t you have any proper clothes?” I ask in a sad attempt to distract from my actions.
Her tight black shorts leave nothing to the imagination as she walks into the kitchen, but at least she combined them with a loose-fitting sweater.
I usually couldn’t care less about what anyone wears, butsomething about her pisses me off so badly that this was the first thing that came to mind.
“I don’t remember asking for your opinion,” she shoots back as she gathers a few ingredients for a sandwich.
Who keeps their bread in a drawer? Ruby, apparently.
“There’s plenty of space for you to look somewhere else if you have a problem with my outfit.”
“I don’t havea problemwith your outfit,” I say. “It’s just inappropriate, that’s all.”
“Inappropriate for what?” She asks while she finishes constructing her sandwich. An abomination full of cheese, topped with more cheese and cucumbers.
“This is my house and if I want to run around naked, I’m gonna do exactly that,” she says with a self righteous grin on her face as she flops down on the couch with her sandwich. She turns on the TV and I take this as an opportunity to end the discussion.
I keep my mouth shut and spend the next few hours watching her from a distance. The guys are still going no contact and the only thing I got were two blue checks as I sent Rockwell the picture of the rifle. When they finally pick up their phones, I’ll have to leave this property to make sure Ruby doesn’t hear me screaming at them.
Her only activities seem to be watching TV in her room, watching TV in the living room, and making a mess in the kitchen. From time to time, she’s scrolling on her phone, but apart from that, she spends her day like a fourteen-year-old on summer break.
The day feels like gum, dragging out longer and longer until the sun finally goes down again and Ruby starts to yawn. She leaves her spot on the couch and I’m surprised that she’s not one with the fabric yet.
Two weeks and not a day longer. That’s how long I’m going to put up with this shit. I’ll do my very best to get asmuch intel as possible until then, but if I don’t, then Rockwell has to send someone else.
I don’t knowhowdumb she thinks I am or how lazy her past bodyguards have been, but she looks surprisingly shocked as she jumps down on the gravelly ground in the driveway and I immediately yank her towards me not even a second later, pushing her back into the house.
“Is this going to be a daily occurrence?” I ask as I watch her stomp up the stairs.
She ignores my question, and we arrive back at her room. I inspect the windows, wondering if I could ask Mr. Barron for some locks. I know watching over Ruby shouldn’t be my primary concern here, but her continuous attempts to sneak out are already getting on my nerves and I have only been here for two days.
She groans as she walks over to her bed. The bed in my room is already huge, but this beige monstrosity looks as if it’s custom-made.
Funny how this brat gets to sleep in something that’s the size of my room on base while my colleagues and I have to sleep on things that are more cardboard than comforter.
It’s not like we protect the country or anything.
