“Two days later.” For all the emotion he expressed he could have been an android. Which meant it was probably more important in some way than he would let on.
“A real tough guy, huh? Two days.” I shrugged. “I guess I shouldn’t be ashamed that I lasted a whole day. That’s almost as good as you.” Which was probably only because I had been too busy running for my life to stop and really think about it all. Or maybe my moral compass was off. I’d been too worried about my life to think of the one I had accidentally taken.
His lips curved upward just a hair.
“Was he really a bad guy?” I turned my face to watch him carefully.
“Yes.” His deep voice was firm. I didn’t have to say who I meant.
“He killed women and girls?”
“Most prostitutes don’t retire, Ava. They live a life where they trade part of themselves for money; sex and companionship are commodities. It’s a high stakes world and Song was brutal.”
“How do you know for sure it was him?” I tried to brush some of my tear dampened hair out of my face.
“A local madam lost some of her girls to Song. They ended up dead not long after.”
“And what, she cared about the turncoats?” I frowned. “If it’s such a brutal world, you’d think she’d have chalked it up to what they deserved. Not spend money to avenge their deaths.”
“Too right.” His chin jerked decisively. “From what I found, she was more angry that some of her high rollers followed the girls to Song’s business and never came back, even after their favorite girls were gone. That’s bad for profits so she decided to make a spectacle and remove him from the scene. He encroached on her territory and then spat in her face.”
I thought it over. “Why not just lure his girls away from him?”
“Money. If those girls come to her looking for a job she has the upper hand and can pay less. She’d have to dangle a large carrot to get them to come to her otherwise.”
“It’s a prostitute turf war.” I shook my head. “Like in a movie.”
“Fiction is usually grounded in some sort of reality.” He stood up and offered me his hand. “Would you like to get some breakfast?”
“I’d really like to brush my teeth.” I let him pull me to my feet.
“Extra toothbrushes in the medicine cabinet. Then we eat.” He closed the door behind him and I stared at my reflection. I had hopped on the carousel of death and had no idea which way it was going to take me.
DECIDING WHICH VEHICLE to take to town gave me pause. We could use the stolen car because I’d changed the tag while Ava was sleeping. Or we could take the old farm truck from the garage. Then again, people might recognize the truck and it would be better to keep a low profile here. Most of the people I ran with long ago were gone or locked up, but it paid to be safe.
Ava might object to using the stolen car, though. Watching her cry in my mother’s bathroom had been like a knife to the gut. How was I supposed to comfort her over killing someone? Patting her on the back would have been patronizing. Any sort of comment I made would sound empty. I would have made tea, but we were out. So I’d gotten her a rag and sat on the floor instead.
The gentlemanly thing would be to take the truck so I didn’t upset her any more, but my pragmatic side pointed out that it would be better to keep her alive than to soothe her feelings. She was just going to have to suck it up.
The bathroom door knob turned and I stopped pacing. I’d felt heat before, but having someone else by my side as I dealt with dangerous people was a new experience. It made me uneasy to feel responsible for another person’s safety, and it was wearing on my nerves. With slow, deliberate moves I picked up my laptop and placed it back in the safe. No reason to telegraph my unease.
I closed the safe and froze when I saw Ava. All traces of the makeup she had worn the day before were gone, letting a vulnerability shine through her eyes that was at odds with the defiant way she held her chin. When her gaze met mine it was like being kicked in the gut. I’d just watched her get rid of everything I’d fed her the night before. There were circles under her eyes and she was pale, her hands twisting the hem of the over-sized sweater she was wearing, leaving the material disfigured. But something in her eyes remained fierce.
I’d never seen anyone so beautiful in my life.
I couldn’t tell you what it was that drew me. She would never be a model and she wasn’t sultry or glamorous, but just a look at her made me want to bundle her up somewhere safe so that I could enjoy her smiles forever.
“Ready?” I cleared my throat.
“Where are we going?” Her voice was low, hoarse from her earlier sickness.
“Breakfast.” I slid my guns into my shoulder harness and slipped my blazer over them. I hadn’t taken the time to change since we’d gotten to Oxford.
“And then where?” She looked around the room and then shook her head. She had nothing to bring with us.
“We need more supplies.” I opened the front door and waited for her to go through.
“Duct tape, tarps?” Her lips quirked into a smile.
“Har, har. Look who woke up with a funny bone.” I rolled my eyes. “I meant more food, maybe some soap.”
She didn’t respond, just shook her head.
“Besides, I have plenty of the other stuff in my super-secret kill room.”
She stumbled a bit and shot a glare in my direction. “Not funny.”