Page 53 of No Control
“Which one are you?”
He laughs. “I’d say the first.”
I nod, feeling a little bit of relief. “And Henry?”
“The last one.”
A shudder rolls down my spine.
“I’ll give you some advice.” Jude picks his bowl up from the counter. “It’s better to go to the source of the answers versus trying to pull the information out of someone else.” He slips past me and heads for the exit of the kitchen.
“Wait, Jude,” I call after him.
“Yeah?” He glances back at me.
“Where is Henry right now?”
The expression that crosses his face sends my stomach in a twist. “Again, that’s a question for him, not me. I have a feeling he’ll tell you when he’s ready to. Just don’t miss the truth in front of your face right now.”
I struggle with the riddle he just threw at me as he disappears, leaving me alone in the kitchen. Is he trying to tell me something? Am I really too stupid to see something right in front of my face? I bite down on my sore lip as I return to my room.
I’ll just have to ask Henry himself when he shows back up.
twenty-one
Henry
This is bad.
Blood is all over the kitchen floor, and I step around it, careful not to leave any footprints. I hear them upstairs, a struggle ensuing. I move faster. We don’t know if the wife scheduled the hit, but if a target kills someone else while we are responsible, it’s bad for everyone involved.
And it’s never happened to me.
I adjust the mask on my face as I race up the stairs, adrenaline pumping through my body. The high of the chase has already started, and I float silently toward the noises coming from the master bedroom. The door is open, and as soon as I reach the threshold, I see Carlson over his wife, his hands wrapped around her throat.
“Fucking bitch!”
She mumbles something back at him, and he rears back, his fist raised. I spring into action, gliding up behind him. My left hand fists the back of his polo as my right guides the knife across his neck. The sharpened blade and force of my attack leaves him nearly decapitated as I shove him off the bed.
This is a catastrophe.
“You’ve got a witness,” Jude says in my ear, crunching something obnoxiously. I ignore him and step around Carlson until I make it to his wife—well, widow, actually. Her dark hair is smattered with blood, her nose twisted to the side. Bright blue eyes stare at the ceiling fan, not even phased by my mask. In fact, if it weren’t for the fact she just blinked her lashes, I’d have thought she was dead.
“Medical attention needed?” Jude asks in my ear.
I don’t know. I lean over her, taking in the scrapes and bruises covering her aging skin. There’re scars beneath the fresh injuries, and I have a feeling this woman was broken long before this night. I frown beneath the mask, studying her. Her breaths are even, and while I’m certain her nose is probably broken, otherwise, she appears fine.
So, I shake my head.
“Okay, then grab the cameras and get the fuck out of there.”
I take one last look at the woman on the bed, my mind flashing to Lydia. Would her putrid ex-fiancé ever have broken her like this?
“Move,” Jude snaps in my ear. “Teenager is home.”
Shit.
I grab the tiny camera from the bedroom and step out, closing the door. As much as I don’t want to leave her, it’s not abnormal to leave someone clinging to life. However, Mrs. Carlson isn’t clinging to life physically…Just in all the other ways.
