He walked out a second later. I moved to the window and rested my brow against the cool pane, wondering if I was right to trust my disbelief of Zayne’s acts. He wouldn’t do anything to harm me. Surely there was a reasonable explanation.
Palms flat against the pane, I rolled my brow from side to side. “How can there be a reasonable explanation for murder?” I questioned myself.
Then what about someone else killing them, my brain immediately counteracted. God, this seriously wasn’t happening. The life that I’d come to know was quickly slipping from my grasp and there was nothing I could do to hold onto it. Except remember but then I needed brain space to understand the new life and God alone knew what that was.
21
Zayne aka Gabriel(29 years)
A whole three fucking days later of sitting around doing shit, I stared at Sam. He’d barely walked through the door before I was on him for the details of the meet with the feds. I frowned. “Why the fuck would they want to meet there? Why not at the precinct?” Raking a hand through my hair for the twentieth time, I shook my head, my patience bursting at the seams. “Why am I being dragged into this damn interrogation when I should be out there working this case?”
“This isn’t as open and shut as we initially thought.” Tiredness lined Sam’s voice, he probably hadn’t gotten much sleep either. I might be an adult who killed people for leisure—yeah, call me sick but some people just occupied space on this earth for no apparent reason other than they existed. Regardless, when it came to paternal feelings for Declan and me, Sam didn’t hide it.
“Why am I not surprised.” The unfolding nightmare was beginning to take on shapes I doubted I’d be able to unravel and turned my insides to the point that I wanted to kill someone. “I need to get out of here. The longer I wait, the further she gets away from me, Sam.”
“I understand—” He trailed off as a knock sounded on the open door behind him. Two suits walked in and gave him a brief nod. “I’ll see you as soon as you get back, Gabe.” Sam smiled at the men then to me, “your uncle Jeremy sends his regards, son.”
Tension tapped a steady beat at my temples, pressure building there. I glanced across the room at Declan. He stood behind Sam and out of sight of the men at the door. I caught the harassed look on his face. We both knew what Sam’s last words meant. His brother Jeremy had been killed in a sneak attack and we’d always used that message as code for ‘watch your back, something isn’t right.’ Either he knew the two men standing at the door or he hadn’t had enough time to give me more detail.
“Tell him I said, I hope he’s still kicking ass down in Vegas.” I faked a grin, my message was simple—I could take care of myself and I’d win this round. Sam nodded and walked out.
“Let’s go.” The bulkier of the two men gestured to the door.
“Can I say goodbye to my brother?” I asked and at his nod, I crossed the room to Declan.
“What the fuck, Gabe? A black site?” he whispered as I pulled him into an embrace.
I heard the concern in Declan’s tone, and I didn’t blame him. Taking a potential suspect to a black site entailed the use of underhanded methods that could be questionable in a court of law. Only, I wasn’t a potential suspect and TRA didn’t employ torture, we fucking invented the damn thing. Still, when you signed on, you accepted that you weren’t above any kind of questioning.
“I can handle myself, Dec, I just need you to find out everything you can about this so-called interrogation. These two don’t look like FBI and I think Sam knew that. If it’s legit, someone would’ve logged it in.” I kept my voice low.
As we broke apart, Declan slipped something into my hand. I didn’t look at it but shoved both my hands into my pants pockets and stepped toward the two men. As soon as we stepped outside, they slipped a black bag over my head and cuffed my hands.
My mind alert, I figured we’d driven close to an hour and a half. Judging by the distinct lull in traffic noise and unmistakable crunch of gravel under the tires, we’d left the city and headed for either a farm or a factory. When the black bag was finally whipped off my head, I blinked, adjusting my gaze to the dimly lit room, and glared at Tweedledum and Tweedledumber seated on the other side of a silver table. Although their body proportions were the same, these two men were different from the fuckers that collected me. That meant they handed me over the second the bag was placed over my head.
“Were these necessary?” I tipped my chin at the black bag lying on the table and glanced at my wrists bound at my back.
