He stands, patting my cheek before tossing the gas mask into my lap. “Good boy. I’ll make a terrific friend if you keep to your part of the agreement.”
Then he fists my hair again, yanking my head back. “You don’t want me as an enemy, Fox. If I find out you’re sniffing around, or trying to track us down, everything goes up in smoke.”
As if only realizing now that the air is barely breathable, Rooke pulls his own gas mask over his face.
It’s surreal watching his eyes behind that mask. When he speaks, his voice is muffled and tinny…and even more intimidating than before.
“The faster you get out of here, the better your chance of survival. Remember that when you feel compelled to…linger.”
My eyes dart to the photographs on the wall. There isn’t much light to make out what’s on them, but it’s obvious they’re portraits of some kind.
“You’re a fucking idiot,” I grate out. “The second I’m free, I’m calling for backup. You’ll have every cop in the state on your tail before you hit the county line.”
Rooke smiles again.
It’s not a nice smile.
“Trust me, you’ll have a change of heart the moment you’re out of here.”
“Like hell.”
He just keeps smiling.
The smoke is making my head swim. My thoughts feel sluggish, disconnected. I need to make a decision. I need to?—
“Fine,” I cough out. “I’ll do it.”
Rooke tilts his head. “Do what?”
“Take leave. Not come looking. All of it. Just—” I tug uselessly at the restraints strapping me down in the chair.
I don’t mean it. Obviously, I don’t mean it. The second I’m out of here, I’m calling dispatch, putting out an APB, hunting these three down like the fugitives they are.
Rooke tosses me a box cutter from his pocket, and I flinch when it lands in my lap.
“If you behave yourself, you’ll get a reward.”
“The fuck are you on about?”
“Christmas dinner.” His eyes gleam behind the plastic visor. “Show me you understand our arrangement, and you can come spend it with me and the—family.”
There’s a strange hitch to his voice at the end there.
Then again, I can barely breathe because of the smoke, so it’s probably that.
My laugh turns into a hacking cough. “I’m not having dinner with someone harboring fugitives.”
Rooke tilts his head. The gas mask makes his expression unreadable, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Aren’t we all fugitives?”
Dread slithers down my spine.
Rooke leans closer, his masked face inches from mine. “You’re a good person, Deputy. Truly good, in a way I’ve rarelyencountered. And truly good people understand that there’s a need for apex predators.”
He cups my jaw.
“You’ll forgive us for our sins,” he murmurs. “Not because you want to. Not even because you understand why we did what we did. But because deep down, the part of you that you pretend doesn’t exist…it knows sometimes, the only way to fight evil is to be evil.”
