He told me—
Then Alex aims his weapon and puts a bullet between the eyes of my abductor.
Thirty-Three
Vicky
There are so many things I want to tell him, to ask, to demand, but I go with the most important.
“Van Wyk’s on his way.”
If Alex picks up my urgency, he shows no sign of it. He glances once at the table, scanning it swiftly, then walks to Haynes’s corpse, circling the pool of vomit I’ve left on the floor.
“Did you hear me?” I insist. “Alex, Van Wyk—”
“Yes, I heard you.” He starts frisking Haynes one-handed. He hasn’t looked at me since he executed Haynes.
“We need to get out of here.”
“Why?” Alex asks, calm curiosity in his tone, like I’ve just made a mildly interesting suggestion.
I stare at him, wondering if he’s lostin his kill, if he’s heard a single word I’ve said. “Because Van Wyk is on his way!”
“Yes.” Alex lifts the silenced pistol he holds, his back half to me, his attention still on patting down Haynes’s pockets. “I’m looking forward to seeing him.”
“No.” I shake my head even though Alex isn’t looking. “No, killing Haynes is one thing.”And I wanted it. I told him to. I gave himpermission.God, who have I turned into? “But killing Van Wyk… that’s retribution.”
Alex’s search reaches Haynes’s lower leg. “Ah, I knew he’d have one.” Avoiding the bloody mess of his knee, he tugs up the dead man’s jeans, and pulls a knife from its calf-sheath. It gleams in the light. He straightens, walks to me, and cuts at my bindings. “What’s wrong with retribution?”
I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
We’ve justkilleda man. Alex pulled the trigger, but I’m just as guilty. I can’t tear my eyes from Haynes’s body. The hole in his forehead, the wound in his stomach. I could’ve stopped Alex—in that moment, he would’ve listened. But I didn’t. I saiddo it, and that’s something I’ll have to live with.
Something Alex will have to live with, too. But that doesn’t seem to be bothering him; there’s not a glimmer of remorse. He’s perfectly calm.
“We need to leave,” I say. Alex has freed my hands, and my wrists are sore and stiff. Pins and needles burn like I’ve never had them before, and I can’t help but rub at them, wincing as my raw skinobjects.
“If that’s what you want.” He bends, avoiding the vomit beneath my chair, and cuts my ankles free.
“It is.” Why would we stay? Even with a weapon, there’s no guarantee Van Wyk won’t be armed—or alone. Why take the risk?
I glance at the door, half expecting my thoughts to have summoned him. Haynes said he’d be here soon. How long do we have?
Alex checks the safety on Haynes’s gun and shoves it under the waistband of his pants. Then he crosses to the table, wipes down the knife with the last wet rag, and repeats the exercise with the gun he brought, being careful not to touch it.
I know what he’s doing: he’s removing his fingerprints. It’s smart, but… does vomit contain DNA? I don’t know. I’m not sure it matters; it’s not like mine’s on record.
God, I can’t even think. So much has happened so quickly, and I’m reeling from it all. My body aches all over, my head worst of all. I’m practically naked, my limbs are numb, there’s a dead man lying a few feet away, and I’m covered in my own vomit.
Alex has seen me like this. How could he not be repulsed?
And he told me he loved me. For the first time ever—ever—he said those three words.
Then right after, he killed a man.
If that’s not a mind-fuck, I don’t know what is.
He’s practically ignored me since then. Yes, he’s doing what needs to be done—the knife, the bindings,wiping things clean—but he’s hardly looked at me. I don’t know why.
