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Chapter Nineteen Raya St Claire
Archie’s office smelled like a mixture of old files, scented candles, his cologne, paper, and coffee seeing that he held a steaming hot cup in his right hand, while the other flipped through papers of a thick file.
He stops flipping through the file when I enter his office, and he smiles at me. I close the door behind me, needing to tell him what I have found out about the Red Devils, especially Nikolas.
If the RD’s are working with the men who has killed my family all those years ago, it needs to be discussed with Archie, because it is a lead. Hell, it was more than just a lead, I have waited my entire life to find the men who has killed my family, and now I finally have something on them.
I saunter towards one of the two leathered cushioned chairs positioned in front of his mahogany desk and sit down, folding my left leg over my right.
“I’m glad you’re here, Ray, but did I forget some kind of meeting?” He asks, setting the cup of coffee down onto a coaster.
I shake my head. “No, you didn’t forget a meeting. Don’t worry.” I chuckle. “I’m here because I want to tell you something that has been bothering me for quite a while now, but more specifically since Nik picked up his crates.” I tell him, looking at the painting hung at the back of his head, on the wall. It was a simple painting of a landscape. Mountains, to be more specific.
Archie clears his throat and I snap my head to look at him again.
“What is it?” He asks, his eyebrow were raised, his head slightly tilted to the side.
“When you asked me what was wrong the other night, I told you that nothing was wrong. But I lied to you. Nikolas… He, uh, he answered a phone call on speaker. The guy, on the other end of the line… it was one of them Archie. It was one of the men who murdered my family.” I tell him, my breathing sounding so loud in my own ears when the words left my mouth.
Archie goes still for a moment, looking at me with a flat gaze as if he was trying to process my words. Finally, he clears his throat and scratches the skin below his chin. “How can you be so sure?” He asks, taking a small sip of his coffee.
“When he spoke, it was as if I was there again,” I swallow the bile that rose up from my stomach, “it felt as if I was at my house again. He was looking at me through a ski-mask. And his voice… I remember his voice as if it was yesterday. I know for sure that is was him, Archie.”
Archie pinches the bridge of his nose, staring at the mahogany desk as if it was the most important thing in the world. When he looks at me again, he looks like he doesn’t believe me.
