Page 92 of Canvas
Bull’s tossing a ball in the air sitting in a chair, feet up on the table. Gringo’s laying the fuck down on the couch with his hands tucked behind his head. Snake’s leaning against the wall cleaning his nails with a knife. On the surface they all look calm and collected. Inside they’re calculating while their inner machine takes over, they’re transforming into the soldier, preparing to be what they need to be: killer, spy, kidnapper, whatever the assignment needs.
Me, I’m sitting on the desk hating this shit. Hating it because the sick part of me is looking forward to it.
“We’ve only got the basics, someone’s coming down with the files, they should be here in a couple of days.”
“Is it out of the country?” Gringo asks from his place on the couch.
“No,” I shake my head, not that he can see me, he’s staring at whatever he’s seeing in his mind’s eye. “From what I’ve been told, it’s a retrieval.” And everything about this assignment has given me a very bad feeling. I’m going to tell them what I know and see if they feel the same way.
“What happened, some accountant run away with all the financial information of a crooked politician and they want it back?” Snake says sarcastically.
I shake my head again. Just fucking tell them, Rock.
“Apparently the daughter of a very prominent business man has disappeared. He wants her back,” I state flatly.
“A kidnapping?” Gringo asks quietly.
“No, she ran away,” I reply.
“Isn’t this just fucking great,” Bull snorts. “Daddy’s little rich girl disappears because of a temper tantrum and Big Daddy calls in the dogs.”
“It’s not quite that simple,” I begin.
“Thank God for small fucking favors. I was not about to play babysitter to some spoiled brat who took off because her American Express black Centurion card was cut off,” Bull grumbles still tossing the ball.
I can’t fucking sit still so I get up and start to slowly pace. Snake watches me as he continues to rake the tip of the switch blade under his meticulous fingernails.
“Not that either,” I say. “It seems the father in question is sort of like a cult leader.”
Gringo laughs. “You’re shitting me, bro, like Jim Jones?”
“Nope. Think more Scientology and more damn millionaires than the Beverly Hills 90210 zip code.”
“Well holy shit, this is different. I’ll bet you a hundred bucks she took off to Paris for a shopping spree on the church’s dime,” Bull grins.
I stop pacing, Snake’s eyes haven’t left me and we lock gazes.
He can read me. He knows something’s bothering me about this.
“It seems daddy’s little girl had a very special position in The Club,as it’s called,” I address them all. “Her purpose, the only thing she was raised for, was to strengthen the power of The Club. She’s the prize in a business deal.” It makes my skin crawl and my stomach lurch to even say the words out loud.
Gringo sits up, his face contorted in disgust. “Hold up, you mean to tell me this scumbag father raised his daughter only to pimp her out for a business deal?”
I cross my arms over my chest and plant my feet firmly where I’m at. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
Snake clicks the blade closed and slips it into his back pocket. Bull snatches the ball out of the air. Gringo lowers his head, sits quietly for a moment, then kicks the coffee table and sends it flying across the room. It lands against the opposite wall and shatters.
I don’t fucking move. I’ve had a few hours to let this stew inside me and turn into a thick burning hate for this man. This piece of shit. If there is a God, and if there is such a thing as justice, he’d spend the rest of his life getting raped and beaten in the most horrific ways.
None of us say anything for a long moment, each of us coming to terms with what I’ve told them so far.
“There’s more, isn’t there, Rock?” Snake asks quietly.
I inhale deeply.
“Yes.”
“Spit it the fuck out already,” Bull growls.
