Page 85 of Three
“Are you okay?” I ask him, sliding my eyes over his body, looking for wounds.
“Yes.” He cleans his bloody hand on his jeans. “You?” I nod, but am I? I slide Malcom’s bloody bracelet next to the other on my wrist and sigh.Another young life taken away.
Malcom wasn’t a saint, but he didn’t deserve to die like this.
“When I find out who’s behind this, I will personally gut them…with a rusty spoon.” His tone is venomous, filled with cold resolve. It gives my body a chill. I understand his anger. I feel it too.
He grabs his phone and takes a picture of the letters Malcolm wrote on the floor.
He grunts, as he stands up, his body still fully hidden behind the crates. “Serena, is the shooter still outside?”
“How come she didn’t warn us?” I ask. “Wasn’t she checking the perimeter?”
“She was, but the damn jungley forest covered their arrival. Stay here.”
“What?”
“Hunter, I need you to stay here,” he tells me, using that firm tone I’ve heard from him only once before, in the alley near Smith’s when he told me he was going to take August Baker. And just like that time,I feel the urge to obey him. Fucking weird. But I trust my gut instincts, so I nod and stay put.
Ten minutes pass and then five more. I’m about to say fuck it and go look for him when Ramiel’s voice reaches me from the back door. “Hunter? Don’t touch anything, let’s not leave prints.”
“Everything okay?” I ask him when his figure enters my sight. He looks fine. His jeans and hands have dirt on them, and he has a smudge on his face too.
“Yeah. Took care of it. We can leave,” he replies.
Took care of it, how?I raise a questioning eyebrow at him.
“I offed him,” he simply says, not a smidgeon of remorse in his tone. He tried to kill us and died instead; I have no problem whatsoever with his death. But again, the mystery around Ramiel’s life is getting too dark to ignore. I need answers.
“He was another assassin. Probably here to kill Malcom.”
“And he succeeded.” I holster my gun and stroke my head.
“Serena, give us the five-minute darkness on the cameras.”
We quickly make our way out of the building as Ramiel cleans whatever we touched with a dirty piece of cloth he found on the floor.
“Are you sure Hector didn’t do this?” he asks me as we reach my bike.
“No, he owes me,” is my succinct response. I can’t give him more right now. My head is pulsing, my mind is going too fast, recalling every single interaction I’ve had with Ramiel, every detail, hint, and word he uttered. I don’t like the assumptions I’m coming up with.
His phone starts ringing, putting a stop to my thought-spiral. “Fucking finally!” He pushes the speaker button. “Vulture.”
“Ram?”
I can’t stop the low, angry growl slipping out of my chest at the intimate nickname. Ramiel smirks as he enjoys my possessiveness, but he clarifies, “It’s my hacker name.”
“You’re still alive.” The raspy voice on the other line states in a nonchalant way.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I heard Phoenix was asking around about you.”
I see Ramiel turn tense while gritting his teeth. “Know why?”
“Nope. The person who told me is not very reliable. But when Phoenix is interested in someone, it’s because they want him dead,” Beau explains.
“He’s the next name on my kill list then. Because nobody touches…Ram,” I hiss, feeling anger climbing and burning my chest. Who the fuck is Phoenix? Even though Ramiel is keeping secrets from me, I still feel the need to protect him.
