“Yes,” I hear her clipped voice.
“Well done,” Jay answers back. “Trent, once you drop her off head to my place, so we can piece together the next event.”
“Will do,” I tell him before he hangs up.
The car is silent. I glance in my rearview mirror and see that Scarlet is massaging the bridge of her nose, her eyes closed and she’s breathing deeply.
“You killed Rat,” I decide to bring up the subject. She sighs and her shoulders slump. I glance again and this time see the tiredness on her face. Faint bluish smudges are under her eyes and she looks softer again.
“He was responsible for what happened in that garage,” she answers, all of the previous bravado in her voice from earlier is gone. She sounds like the girl I know.
“You let Gerry live?” I bite out, reminding her I was able to piece things together.
Our eyes meet briefly in the mirror. “I thought you’d want to see the man responsible for Blake’s death alive. Then you can handle him however you want.”
“By the law or by your way of justice, you mean?” I question. Her head leans back against the headrest. She doesn’t answer, obviously knowing that I’m heated about the whole thing. I hate that she knows me.
Every so often, my eyes keep glancing back to her, as if drawn to her, after so many years of her being gone from their sight. Something about surveillance photos that never do the person justice. Six years ago, I never would have thought I’d be this close to her, sharing air, and working alongside her to break a case. I pick up every detail of her face, her body language, and the way she almost relaxes around me when she shouldn’t. The girl I once knew was warm, bold, and chased life as if she had nothing to lose. The woman sitting with me is nothing like her. She’s shed the hard exterior and I catch the toll this life has taken on her tonight. I grit my teeth.
“Why do you do it? You’re obviously tired, and one wrong step in that crowd could mean death. You hated your father and now he’s gone, so why do it? You could bounce off the face of the earth tomorrow. I know you have the resources to disappear and that we could never find you.”
I see her chest rise and fall, yet her eyes stay closed. Whether she’s ignoring me or fell asleep I guess I don’t know. I almost wish I could take back the words I said out loud. I don’t want to care, yet I can’t help but think I’m missing something. My head spins thinking over everything I know and picked up on.
“I’ve been wearing this mask for so long; I forget who I was without it. I do hate my father for the options he forced me to choose from. Now that he’s dead, I should feel free but I don’t. I won’t until this is over. There are bigger things at stake,” she says, and I find myself completely intrigued with her answer, even while it makes me angry.
“You won’t be free even when this is over,” I remind her, the grudge I hold rearing back to life, “your freedom belongs to me and I see a good twenty-five to life in your future.”
My eyes flick to the back again and see that her body has lost the relaxation she was enjoying. My words are an ice-bucket reminder, to both of us, how this story ends. I can’t afford to let myself get soft around Scarlet Reyes. She knows how to play me, to break me, and I won’t give her that again.
Trent
Another week passes with me flying around like Scarlet’s personal monkey. I guess with her announcing to everyone, I’m her new ‘go-to’ man, I am now stuck in the role. Drive her here, do her pick up here, train with her, and attend all meetings with her. I’ve spent more time with Scarlet this week than I like. It’s grating on my nerves the way we move with familiarity. I don’t miss how she stocked up on energy drinks for me, knowing I hate coffee. I hate myself even more for making her coffee the way I remember she likes it. I notice that she wakes up in the night. I hate that I wake up when she does, and the way my heart hammers in my chest. Typically Scarlet goes to bed after me and wakes up before me, averaging about four hours of sleep at a time. Being forced into her home and having to live in her space is creating havoc between my mind and my soul. I’m curious about her changes while also trying to distance myself from things that are familiar to me.
Jay is getting a kick out of it, judging by the monkey suit that arrived for me this evening while we were waiting at Scarlet’s safe house. My fingers absently touch the bowtie fastened around my neck, again, and I grumble under my breath. I hate being in these things and actively go out of my way not to wear them.
“We’re going to an underground fight club,” I bite out, while our elevator continues to descend, “Why the fuck do we have to be dressed like it’s the Grammys?”
Her shoulders shake once as if she’s laughing, and my eyes narrow. Not only do I have to wear this but now I have to be responsible for Scarlet when she’s dressed the way she is. I roll my shoulders back and force myself to stay focused.
She turns to face me in the small, confined space and my jaw locks. Her hair is swept up in a curly pile on top of her head, while small pieces hang down, grazing her neck and bare shoulders. The red satin material of her long dress hugs every curve like a second skin. She must have a thing for slits, because this one also has one going up the back and I catch eyefuls of tan leg every time she moves. “These types of fights aren’t like the illegal rings you know about. What happens down here tonight…every fight is to the death. You’ll be surprised how many people you recognize. Lots of men and women in power come to these and they spend millions on the fights. That’s why they’re so exclusive. Not only are they gambling but also buying the silence of everyone else attending.”
“Your life just keeps getting more and more fucked-up sounding,” I reply.
“I’m aware.” Her brow rises, challenging me to tap out. I tilt my head, eyes roaming over her again, because I can’t help myself. Scarlet huffs and resumes her place next to me again.
We don’t speak as we continue descending into what is called the Hell Pit. Now I have a better understanding of why. I’m not even sure how many stories down we are, because the metal elevator moves at such a slow pace. When we finally stop and the doors slide open, I fix my own mask in place, keeping me eyes alert and my body close enough to give off the impression Scarlet needs the protection. Just like the previous event, when she walks into the room, men and women acknowledge her with a tilt of their heads. My fingers twitch at my sides when other men drag their eyes down her body. The predator in me rises to the surface and I use a hand at her waist to steer her in a different direction, away from their leering. To her credit, Scarlet doesn’t even glance at me in question, she just goes with it, trusting that I’m making a good judgment call. It makes me wonder how many times she’s had to fend for herself at these things. I doubt her father ever had her back.
The place is a giant circle, with at least four floors above us, all overlooking the concrete slab below us. I can hear the sound of flesh being pounded and grunts of pain with each blow. The crowd isn’t too amped up, so this must not be the main event. I continue following Scarlet, assuming she knows who she’s looking for. When she stops abruptly, I almost collide into her.