Page 122 of Corpse Roads
“Fucking try it,” Hudson invites.
“Behave, the pair of you,” Kade warns, combing his blonde hair back. “We’ve got our baby right here. I’m sure she’ll take great pleasure in castrating you with a rusty knife.”
Ignoring the testosterone-fuelled entourage, Brooklyn rolls her eyes as she strips off her leather jacket, revealing jeans and her usual obscure band t-shirt.
“Too busy for any castrations tonight,” she answers. “Put it in my diary for tomorrow. And I’m not your fucking baby, alright?”
Phoenix fist bumps the air. “Score. I’m off the hook.”
Growing serious, the three of them take their seats, but not before Hudson drags Brooklyn in for a lip-smacking kiss that leaves her cheeks pink.
Both silent and apprehensive, the other two people to reject a job offer from Hunter step forward. I greet Eli with a nod that he silently returns. His brown ringlets are messy, hanging over vivid-green eyes and sharp cheekbones.
He’s the most reserved member of their rowdy bunch. For several years, Eli struggled with selective mutism. When we met almost six years ago, he couldn’t speak a single word.
It took long-term speech therapy and a lot of expensive cheques for him to regain his tongue. In the aftermath, he opted to pursue a career in academia rather than join Sabre’s ranks.
“Eli,” Hunter greets with a sigh. “Thanks for coming.”
He takes the seat next to Kade. “Of course.”
The last man lingers by the closed doors, observing us all. Jude is still dressed in his work clothes—a smart shirt and black trousers, his lanyard hanging from his neck.
Working with Sabre wasn’t on Jude’s list of priorities after years of being imprisoned and tortured, but that’s a whole other story. He took a few years to recover before returning to his old profession as a psychologist.
Jude now works in a local rebab centre alongside Phoenix, who runs a recovery group for addicts. The latter worked his way up using nothing but determination and repurposed shitty life experiences.
“Theo,” he greets, his light-brown hair cropped close to his head. “It’s been a while.”
“It has. How’s the centre?” I ask him.
Jude shrugs, pulling off his lanyard. “I’m still looking for an excuse to get Phoenix locked up to give us some peace and quiet.”
“Hey,” Phoenix exclaims. “I got you that job, dickhead.”
He winks at him. “Sorry, Nix.”
With everyone seated, we all look at Hunter. He’s staring at a full-page shot of Harlow that’s been printed for reference. It’s a selfie she took with Leighton during one of their late-night movie marathons. Their grins are wide.
“Hunt?” Kade prompts.
Still, he doesn’t move an inch. That damned photograph has him in a grief-stricken trance. When we lost Alyssa, Hunter checked out on us. It got worse when he lost his hearing. We came close to losing him forever.
He carries this entire company on his back, even as it slowly crushes him to death. That man’s a bloody martyr if I ever saw one.
Shoving aside my anxiety, I stand up. “Harlow’s been gone for over twelve hours. We’ve combed the surrounding area, as she escaped on foot. No sign of her.”
“We also searched the coastline,” Hudson adds, an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips. “Our next move would be to bring in divers.”
Hunter shakes himself, taking the photograph and turning it over so he can’t meet Harlow’s blue eyes.
“Why would divers be necessary?” he asks cooly.
Hudson stares straight ahead. “If she’s gone in…”
“No,” Hunter thunders. “I don’t believe that’s a scenario we need to explore.”
“Why not?” Jude asks while taking a seat.