Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Zeke steps away, turns to Jacque who enters. “Go ahead.”
14
EZEKIEL
I leave Blue with Jacque, sending one of the men, private security for Blue, inside and telling the other to remain outside. I head to her apartment, which is about a twenty-minute drive, keeping an eye in the rear-view mirror.
That call wasn’t my brother. It was Robbie telling me Lucky was out on parole and that he’d received permission to leave the state. By the time Robbie found this out, it was too late to put someone on Lucky because he’d already left town. It only confirmed our suspicion that someone pulled strings to get him out so early into his sentence. If Blue knows, she’s only going to worry so I’m keeping it to myself for now.
When I get to her building, I slow down to scan the parking lot and street. The few cars there are empty. No one waiting for her here, but they could be anywhere. I drive around the block and park there. From a small, secret compartment in the driver’s side door, I take out the gun I have never had use for. Not even sure why I bought it, kept it, but I’ve had it for years. I check that it’s loaded and tuck it into the waistband of my jeans, making sure it’s not in clear view, and I head toward the back entrance of the building. This entrance takes me through the overcrowded storage cages and, after a quick glance around to confirm I’m alone, I head up to Blue’s apartment. I’m not sure what I expect but no one is standing guard, no police tape to mark off a crime scene. But the owner wouldn’t have called the police. The other residents probably wouldn’t like the attention.
I take the keys out of my pocket but when I insert the first one into the lock, I find I don’t need it. The door is unlocked. I push it open and glance around the space that was so neat the last time I was here, that is now a ruin of broken furniture, ripped apart cushions, the television lying face-down, the screen shattered to pieces. I take my gun in my hand, step inside and close the door behind me.
I’m pretty sure no one is here but walk through the apartment to confirm before I put the gun away and take a good look around. Whoever was here was looking for something. Blue, yes, but the way the cushions and mattress have been slit through, I’m guessing they’re searching for Lucky’s laptop or something that would hold the contents of it, like a flash drive.
After a careful look in each of the rooms, I walk over to the kitchen to peer out of the window. It overlooks the parking lot. From here, I see the driver’s side window of Blue’s car has been busted out. I’m sure whoever was in the apartment also checked her car.
My phone rings, the sound abruptly bringing me back to the present. I reach into my pocket and grab it out to see it’s my brother. I almost decline the call but know I can’t avoid him forever, so I answer.
“If you’re calling to ask if I’ve dumped Blue yet the answer is no.”
“We’ve been summoned,” Jericho says, ignoring my comment altogether.
“Excuse me?”
“Councilor Augustus has invited us to his private residence for a drink.”
“Why?”
“I think we can both guess.”
My jaw clenches. It was a matter of time before someone came to us about Hoxton. I’m sure even the bathrooms are planted with recording devices at the compound. “When?”
“Tonight.”
“It’s not a good time.”
“Make it a good time.”
“I have—”
“Fuck’s sake, Zeke, you killed a man inside the IVI compound. What did you think would happen? You’d walk away? You fucking make time and be fucking grateful he’s got something to lose or it’d be The Tribunal you’d be facing.”
He’s right. “Fuck.”
“Anyway,” he starts. “It’ll be a good opportunity to find out what they know about Blue.”
“Oh? You suddenly care about Blue?”
“I care about you, and you care about Blue, so I suppose my caring is a degree removed.”
“You’re so generous with your affections, Brother.”
“I try.” That does make me chuckle. Jericho has never been an easy brother, an easy man. Would we be friends if we were not brothers? Or does our history, our shared loss, bind us tighter than friendship or blood ever could? “I talked to Isabelle and, well, I’m not going to ask you to choose.”
Funny, that. My brother, my headstrong, always in control brother, bowing to his wife. “What did she say?”
“Nothing.”
“Well, something. I’d like to hear what it was.”
“She said it was a stupid thing to expect you to do. And…” he mutters this part.
“What’s that?” I ask, making out the word he tried to swallow.