Atonement (Master's Protege 2)

“Alright, alright,” I concede, as the lock clicks open. “But I go in first.” I’m happy to let her work her magic with a damn lock, but there’s no telling what waits for us on the other side.

Chapter Eight

Violet

God how I love working with Cain. I love the way his brilliant mind works. I love the way his eyes narrow, sharp and determined, when we need to do something that requires concentration. He unravels mysteries with a fearless resolve that makes me goddamn wet.

It’s dangerous, sometimes, how deeply he affects me.

“Go on,” he says in a low voice, his hand on my lower back. It took me a while to get used to his protective nature around me, but I’m getting there. I’m so used to taking care of myself, I had to remind myself at first that it’s okay to let a guy touch you, it’s okay to let a guy want to lift heavy things for you, it’s okay to let someone… take care of me for once.

Not sure I’d let anyone but Cain do such things, though.

“Jesus,” he mutters. “Not a single person in sight.”

I shouldn’t be surprised there’s no one here. Nothing but an empty hall and the dank smell of an abandoned basement.

“It’s almost as if he wants someone to break in,” I say, shaking my head. “Why hire all that security only to have it be so easy to get in?” I lower my voice and retrieve my knife. It’s quieter at times like these. “Unless…”

“It’s intentionally too easy.”

“Right.”

It’s likely Descamps’ security’s absolute shit.

And it’s just as likely we’ve been set up, and they’re only biding their time before an ambush.

We walk, weapons ready, to the doorway that leads to the basement hallway. Old houses like this on the North Shore were solidly built, some at the turn of the century, with large, roomy basements for both storage and safety in the event of a hurricane or storm. The ceilings are low, but the walls tight, not a draft or wisp of cold air escapes even on the coldest of days.

We walk silently, waiting for a sign that we’re seen, that someone’s nearby. I hear nothing but the distant dripping of water and wonder idly where it’s coming from. A clock chimes.

It smells like an old library down here, slightly musty but familiar. The basement’s finished, with a thin Berber carpet, and tidy, even the wooden beams on the low ceiling gleaming. It’s dark, though, with only a few small windows letting any light in.

We both freeze at the sound of voices and footsteps overhead.

Then a thin, reedy voice travels to us from above. “Then find them. I don’t want anyone coming here unannounced. You know that.” The voice quickly dissolves into a hacking cough that morphs to a coughing fit.

“I think we’ve found our man,” Cain whispers. I nod. They’ve taken our bait.

To the left is a staircase that leads upstairs, but to the right, there’s a door. Cain opens the door, and his eyebrows raise. If we weren’t avoiding being found, he’d probably whistle. I peek around him to see what he does, surprised to find what looks like a mini spa, complete with a jacuzzi and sauna and fluffy white towels. It smells vaguely of lemon and mint, and tiny white fairy lights dance around a table with a tea kettle and teacups. It’s a perfect paradise of relaxation, right here in the minister’s rambling home.

“Someone enjoys himself here,” I mutter to Cain.

He nods but doesn’t reply. His lips are set in a grim, thin line, his brows knitted together. I know before he tells me exactly what’s on his mind—this is the room he’ll use to get our answers.

“We draw them out,” he says in a whisper. “Get security locked down, then bring our little friend down here for some answers.”

“Perfect. I always wanted to do an interrogation wearing a fluffy white robe. If only there were a pair of slippers nearby…”

Cain gives me a lopsided smile, takes my hand, and gives me a firm squeeze.

“Make some noise, baby.”

“Shouldn’t we secure the security exits first?”

“Already done.”

I glance quickly at the door where we came in to see the deadbolt’s been thrown from the inside, then quickly look to the windows. They’re so tiny even I couldn’t climb through, and I’m used to getting through tight spaces. These windows are no bigger than a shoe box.

Cain’s made sure no one’s getting in from this entrance.

“We need to get the stairs situated. Can you do that, baby?” he whispers. I know why he wants me to handle that part of the job. I’m half his size, so it’s much easier for me to climb the stairs without making them creak like aching bones. I nod.

I tiptoe up the stairs as quietly as possible, and when I get to the top, I check all the locks. There’s one that bolts from this side, as well as another lock. We need to lure Descamps down here, then lock the door. Once we do, no one will get to us.