I tried not to go back to that space where I’d gone earlier—the dark depths of worry. I knew Jacques would protect me. He was my protector, my everything in the moment, and ultimately, my lifeline. I’d seen the money he had, the houses. We could’ve gone anywhere and lived happily for the rest of our lives. But the work I had to do was too important, bringing down a giant.
Thud. Jumping at the sound, I almost knocked my head against the underside of the table.
Anotherthud, this one louder, like a sack of potatoes, followed by a second thud, and then a single gunshot.Bang. It came and went. My heart raced, and I frisked myself for Mr. Thimble. I’d left him on the desk by the monitors. They could’ve taken him—they could’ve known everything I had was hiding inside him. If they did, I might as well be dead, because I didn’t know what they’d do for a whistleblowing case that didn’t amount to any wrongdoing—but it definitely involved me being taken out.
One more gunshot and another loud thud came. It was more intense the second time the shot happened. I’d recoiled into a shell of myself, arms hugging around my knees tucked to my chest. I rocked on the spot, my focus on wanting to move, to go grab Mr. Thimble, but I knew at any moment they could come and grab me—they could come and I could be one of those thuds on the ground.
It seemed to go on, but it was over in minutes.
Jacques came stomping down the stairs, and if it wasn’t for the way I knew how his stomps sounded, I might not have had any hope at all. His bare feet and the bottom of his sweats were covered in blood. It’s all I could see for a moment until he appeared, squatting right in front of me at the opposite side ofthe table. “You’ve probably guessed it,” he said with a grin that melted my shell. There was blood on his face, and on his hands. “We’ve got to go.”
I wiped my face of the tears that had streamed without me knowing. I didn’t want to cry, but the sounds had overwhelmed me, and in that moment of me being completely frozen, the only thing functioning seemed to be my tear ducts. “Okay,” I finally let out in a squeak, letting go of my hands from around my knees.
“Good kitten,” he said, reaching out. I recoiled some more. “Sorry. I’ll clean myself off.”
I pushed up onto my bare feet, shuffling out the other side of the table before finding the energy and courage to stand. “What happened?” I asked, looking at Jacques in the light.
“They—five of them—came in through the upstairs terrace, hoping to get the jump on us, I assume,” he said. “They all found out why I’m called the Reaper.”
I gulped hard. It was the first time I’d seen Reaper. Now, in the light, I could see how much blood there was, but it didn’t bother him. He was soaked in it. “It makes you look different.” I sucked in a deep breath. “Was that all from a gun?”
He smiled at me, placing the gun on the table. “No. One of them had a knife.”
“Tell me,” I said.
“Kitten, I’m not going to scare you with what I did,” he said. “Those acts of violence aren’t something you should be around. And I hope those gunshots didn’t scare you too much.”
My father’s voice was in my head—almost like he was dead and a faint memory, though he was still very much alive—telling me to toughen up a little, not in a menacing way, but like gentle parenting. I think that’s what they called it now. “I should get tougher,” I told him.
“Tougher? Baby, you don’t need to get tougher, you just need me around to make sure you stay protected.” He looked at both of his hands and sighed. “I’ll wash up. Stay right there.”
I nodded, staring at the gun. I had to leave the space. I had to get Mr. Thimble. Jacques left me and I tiptoed off. It was just to the bottom of the stairs, right where the monitors were. Except Mr. Thimble wasn’t there. That meant he was... upstairs. I had to toughen up, I had to see, I had to know what these people looked like, and the type of person they were to come and try to kill me. Ineededthis, probably not more than I needed Mr. Thimble, though.
Halfway up the stairs on my tiptoes, Jacques appeared, shaking his head and smiling. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to prove,” he said. “But if you want to see what’s up there, I’ll show you. Then we leave. Immediately.”
“I—I need Mr. Thimble,” I said.
Jacques stuck his hand into his bulging pocket and pulled out the teddy. “I found him upstairs,” he said. “I grabbed him first. I think they know.”
From where I stood, I saw an lifeless arm, wearing black gloves and a long-sleeve black jacket. “What’s going to happen to them?”
“I’ll hire someone to come clean it up,” he said with a shrug. “Probably Adrian. He’s a good guy. He’ll keep this all hush. Trust me.”
He was right. I didn’t have to go upstairs or see any of it, so I didn’t. The teddy was safe, and clenching Mr. Thimble a little tight, I knew the thumb drive was in there still. I looked Jaques over, but his clothes were still dotted and covered in blood, so I didn’t got in for a hug like I wanted.
“Please tell me what you did to get that much—you know, blood on you.”
He nodded. “I will once we’re on that boat out of here.” He rubbed the back of his cold knuckles against the side of my cheek. His hands smelled of dish soap, but in my mind, they were still covered in blood.
“Is this—is this—” The words weren’t coming, the fear was in me.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I promise. Everything is okay.”
“But—” My jaw clenched so hard. “Is this what we’re going to be doing every single week?”
From the look on his face, dotted with blood splatter, I knew he couldn’t answer me, but with howsoiledhe appeared, I was comfortable and confident knowing he’d do what needed to be done to keep me and my evidence safe.
13. JACQUES
