Eventually, we veer off through a doorway that opens up into a room that doesn’t at all match the dank staircase we just came from. It’s brightly lit in comparison and appears to even be somewhat clean. Slowly, I look around the room, making note of the points where various people are congregating.
Quite a few people are situated at a bar, which is not at all surprising, even if it is still quite early in the morning. There are pool tables off to one side, dartboards along the walls, and rough-looking men and women strewn about everywhere.
Zion and Cornelius walk straight through, obviously headed toward the back where I see a set of doorways. They stop a few feet away from the exit, and Zion motions to Cornelius, who steps closer to me as Zion continues on to the man standing at the door. I move to walk around Cornelius, but he steps completely in my way, putting his hand up. When I look into his eyes, he gives me a hard look. “You wait with me.”
Frowning, I ask, “And who the hell are you?”
He inclines his head at me. “Cornelius Black, at your service.”
I snort, and when his eyes jump back to mine, I smile sheepishly. “Is that your real name?”
“Yes, actually, I came up with it myself.” He presses his lips together for a moment and squints at me.
“Because you’re funny?”
His squint narrows, and he leans in close. “Well, some people think it’s ironic.”
“I don’t think that’s what irony means.”
He smiles and shrugs. “Regardless, I just happened to be drinking Johnny Walker Black when I was filling out the paperwork. Had a better ring to it than blue or red, and everyone knows black is the best anyway.”
“Nowthatis funny.”
He nods and says, “Well, I think so.”
“And are you friend or foe?”
His expression turns serious, and he studies me for a moment and then says, “I guess that really depends on you.”
I roll my eyes and go to respond, but then Zion is there, motioning us to follow him. Cornelius gives me a rather smug look, which I answer with a childish look of my own that has Zion eyeing us warily, muttering, “Would you two cut it out.”
We both turn to Zion at the same time and say, “What?”
He shakes his head and mutters to himself as he walks away, leaving us no choice but to follow behind.
Cornelius looks at me, now with a childish expression of his own that has me giggling. I manage to get control of myself, silently following along with Cornelius as Zion disappears through the door. It’s strange how quickly Cornelius and I went from general distrust and suspicion to camaraderie and mutual understanding. Even though I know I’ve never met him before, something about him puts me at ease.
Which, historically speaking, is usually a giant trap, but we shall see.
Through the doorway, I find another dark, narrow hallway, and my lip curls in response. Zion comes up short at the nextdoorway, turns to me, and says, “Generally speaking, Jacob is actually a pretty fair guy. So, you go in there and just keep your head down and your mouth shut unless you’re apologizing or conveying the deep emotional distress that had you acting out of character.”
“But—”
“No buts,” Zion replies harshly. “I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure you get out of this, but I’d prefer not to blow up my entire life over it.”
“And what do you want me to do?” Cornelius asks.
Zion’s eyes lift until he’s meeting his friends head-on. “If it goes to shit, grab her and get out?—”
“Wait a minute,” I interrupt. “What do you mean, get me out of there? We’re not going to just leave you.”
A hand grips my bicep firmly, and I look down to see Cornelius holding onto me. My eyes lift to his, and there’s no humor in his expression as he says, “You heard the man. He can take care of himself.”
I lean in close as I reply, “I think you may find the same could be said for me.”
“Well, let’s hope so.”
Zion turns to leave, then stops, and says, “And whatever you do, don’t talk to anyone. Hell, don’t even look at them if you can help it.”
