Page 77 of Sleeping with the Dark (The Righteous 3)
Trev paused his mouth open as the words, I love you, stuck in his throat. “Be safe.” Trev hit end on the call. “Shit, shit, shit. Arek I may kill you myself. Delilah, track Arek’s phone.”
* * *
Arek pulled the Porsche into a shadowed parking spot down the road from the crappy old home. This neighborhood would’ve once been an aspiring must-move-to location but had been ravaged by those that sought to destroy pretty things. A lone garbage bag rolled down the street, and that was all you needed to know about the area. He didn’t even want to leave his baby unattended in a place like this, but as he watched Mr. Arcade walk up to his front steps and disappear inside, he had to know who he was.
Arek remembered the strange man’s face who had praised him after he had killed the man with a gun to his head. His over-enthusiastic proclamation that Arek should be branded a hero was seared into his brain. He pulled on his leather gloves and waited until the lights flicked on upstairs before making his move. He slipped out of the car, making a dash across the quiet street to the backyard.
A lone dog barked from a yard further down the row of dilapidated homes while a cat yowled as it looked for a mate to satisfy its needs. The back door was unsurprisingly locked, but the window that would be too high for most people to get in was open a crack. Arek looked around for any signs of movement from the neighboring homes. When nothing moved, he leaped for the ledge of the open window.
Pulling himself up, he looked inside, the window peered into the kitchen, but there was no movement. He braced his feet on the wall and pushed up on the window until it was open enough that he could slip through. Hands on the counter, he rolled the rest of the way and landed softly in a crouch position. Every fiber of his being stood at attention as he tried to pick up on any potential threat. This guy didn’t seem like the sort to have any sophisticated tech, but Arek wasn’t taking any chances and searched for any form of detection alarm as he moved through the kitchen toward the hallway.
A pipe rattled nearby as water rushed past in a nearby wall. The tell-tale signs of a toilet being flushed was the only sound in the moldy-smelling home. He made his way up the stairs, testing each one for signs that would give him away before reaching his target. The lights were glowing brightly in the hallway, and he laid flat against the darkened stairwell as the distinct sound of feet drew closer. The man turned before reaching the stairs, and the door closed with a squeak and a click a moment before the sound of a shower reached Arek’s ears.
He waited for a few more breaths to make sure that whoever this guy was, wasn’t going to re-emerge before continuing to the top landing. The place was relatively small, a three-bedroom, one-bath on the upper-level type of spot. He poked his head into one bedroom, but the room was bare of any furniture, only blotchy paint from a leak in the roof. He turned his attention to the next room, and it was set up like an office. There was a lone desk with a lamp and a chair, not exactly exciting. This guy didn’t even have a single plant to cheer the shithole up.
Arek made his way to the desk, but other than a couple of pens, it didn’t have anything of interest. He walked around to check the drawers and froze as his eyes caught the wall opposite the desk.
“What the fuck?” He breathed out quietly as he made his way toward the wall that had been turned into a stalker’s delight. Pictures of both himself, Trev, Sally, Cody, and Renee lined the walls. Pictures of him with J.J. and Renee at the park. Sally was heading into their home for work. Cody was standing with Tyson at some warehouse, and even them running from the building where they were to meet Spike. Pictures of their cars and dates and times of schedule, it was all thoroughly mapped out.
Arek’s blood was like lava in his veins as he stared at all the proof he needed that this man was somehow involved in sabotaging them. But what made his blood run like ice water was the centerpiece of the wall. A blown-up picture of Trev standing outside of the courthouse with a red bullseye painted around his head. The words, must die, were scribbled across his face.
He took in the disturbing wall and then read the words splashed across the top like a title,Die Rechtschaffenen wird gefallen.His German was rusty, but he was pretty sure that it said the Righteous would fall.
The water in the shower shut off, and he made his way across the hall to wait for the man that was going to find himself on the wrong side of his gun.
Arek sized up the room and smirked as he opened the closet door and stepped inside the dark space, blending in with the clothes. The television sitting on a stand in the corner of the room was turned on to one of the news channels. The sound of bare feet moved around the room. Arek tracked his movements in his mind, easily picturing where the piece of shit was with each footfall which sent small vibrations across the wooden surface. There was a distinct pause and a squeak of the bed. Then the bed moved again as the man-made his way toward the closet with now muffled strides.
As soon as the door began to open, Arek raised his gun. The asshole didn’t even notice him until the barrel hit him in the forehead. Wide, surprised eyes met his, and he stared back, knowing that he would look like the Reaper that nightmares were made of.
The guy was as naked except for a pair of tighty-whities and fluffy socks. It was a good look for Tom Cruise, but it did nothing for this man.
“Hands up, and back away slowly,” Arek ordered and was prepared for the fucker to try and bolt. He was mildly disappointed when instead, the man did as he was asked to do. “Sit on the bed.” The man backed up until his knees touched the bed and lowered himself to the noisy seat.
He made to put his hands down, and Arek shook his head no. “Keep them up.”
Arek kept the gun trained on the unknown man but made his way over to a chair in the corner, the only piece of decent furniture in the room. He sat down and stared, taking in the features of the man and trying to decipher why he’d hate him and his brother.
“I know who you are now. You’re the man that saved me from the guys at the arcade,” the man tried, his face smoothly shifting into a mask of mock excitement, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Save it. I saw your fan room.” Arek let his eyes roam over the bare chest that was still wet with water. Scars and tattoos covered half the right side of his body and arm, but none of them stood out except one. One of the Navy, but it had been tattooed over with a fancy pirate like X.
“Who are you really? And can you spare me the bullshit answer?” Arek growled.
“Can I put my arms down, Arek?” The man sneered, drawing out his name like it tasted bad. The man lowered his hands before he said it was alright, giving him a wide grin as he proceeded to lean back on his hands. The stupid look disappeared, his eyes hardening into a glare like he didn’t have a gun trained on him. “You know I’m happy this is all out in the open now.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Arek took in the shaggy hair and dark beard and tried to place him on one of his missions and just couldn’t.
“Oh, no, is the scary Sandman going to shoot me? Who will ever save me?” The man mocked, and Arek wanted to growl at his stupid face. “You really don’t recognize me, do you? I guess you wouldn’t have left me to die, trapped like a rat under rubble. What kind of person does that?”
Arek’s arm slowly lowered. The voice was so familiar, and yet the face… “You’re not Scooter. What kind of game are you playing at?”
The man laughed and smacked his hand on the bed. “You don’t recognize your old friend?”
“Shut the fuck up. You’re not Scooter.” Imagines of that night he lost his friend flashed through his mind.
“I had to claw my way out of that rubble alone and desperate. I spent months searching for my friend that left me all alone to die.”
“Knock it off,” Arek growled, his hand shaking as more flashes lit up behind his eyes.
