When they reached the basement of the parking garage, Alex and Nick got out to stretch their legs. Victor and the girl were still motionless in the back. The difference was, they'd buckled the girl onto one of the benches so she wouldn't tumble around on the floor.
"He didn't wake up," Nick said.
"I hope I didn't use too much. He's a big guy," Alex replied.
"His vitals were steady. I'll get Raul to help bring him in. In the meantime, you wanna see something weird?"
"After the night we just had, I'm afraid to say yes."
Nick rested his knee on the bumper and lunged into the back of the van, returning with the book Octavia had insisted on bringing along. He dropped it in Alex's hands, then jogged away to the security door at the end of the row of parked cars.
Alex opened what appeared to be a photo album, only it had no photos in it. There were older-style pages that were sticky like fly paper covered in cellophane. He felt a little guilty for even peeking in it. Octavia had been so adamant when she had asked to bring it that he'd assumed there would be family photos or memorabilia or, well, something valuable. The book was filled with magazine clippings. Alex turned a few pages. There were tear-outs of houses and carefully curated rooms, of people doing normal things like having coffee or playing with their kids. But magazine shoots were staged, so it was just a fake album about fake people. Was she also the sort of person who also saved the photo insert that came with her picture frames?
He heard the security door creak open and closed, and Nick returned with Raul. Alex climbed into the back of the van. He stuffed the album under the bench, then began to unbuckle the girl. When both men approached, he asked, "Would you rather I take Victor?"
"No," Nick said. "You've taken enough shit from this guy."
Alex nodded toward the red spot that had been darkening on Nick's cheek. "You took some shit yourself."
"Yeah, well, when a guy puts his buttons right out there, it's hard to resist pushing one or two." He and Raul each took an end and lifted Victor, shuffling out of the van and toward the security door. "Enjoy the easy gig," Nick called after him.
Alex balled up the blanket they'd taken and left it on the floor. He could dispose of it later. He lifted Octavia into his arms and there was a smell like eucalyptus coming from her skin. Up close he could see the way her makeup had worn off, the faint constellation of freckles across her cheeks.
Funny, he thought. This doesn't feel like the easy gig.
#
When he reached Dominic's office, Alex announced that Victor had been secured, as promised. Despite his disgust at learning that Nick had brought women to him before, Alex needed to make up for the complication that had cropped up on the Kline job. It didn't matter if it was mere coincidence.
Dominic was precisely where Alex had seen him last: sitting at his massive desk, working on his laptop and having a drink. He removed a narrow set of reading glasses. "What happened to your lip?" he asked.
"Is this the 'something of value' you wanted?" He then tilted the girl toward him and her head craned back, long hair cascading almost to Alex's knee.
Dominic took a sip of his drink before returning it to his leather coaster. "I know that look. What's the matter – she isn't valuable to you? If Victor hit you in the mouth over her, I'd say she must be."
Even the resulting silence felt condescending. "You made her sound like cash in a mattress, Sir."
"I might be the last person you'd expect to hear this from, but not all valuables are monetary. Go put her in my quarters."
#
Alex followed the hallway to the back staircase and descended another floor, ignoring the negligible weight of the girl in his arms. It was hard to believe that someone so slight had sabotaged him with a wet kitchen floor. He would be lucky if Nick spared the others the details of their embarrassing standoff on the balcony. Maybe Victor was right; maybe she was stronger than she looked.
By the time he reached the door to Dominic's private quarters, Alex was fighting a guilt that rose up his esophagus like nausea. He shifted Octavia over his shoulder while he found his key ring, then opened the door. The bed was only a few feet away and he could drop her quickly, gracelessly, and make a hasty exit. That would be the end of it.
Then he supposed that, if this were to be the last he saw of her, he owed her a little more kindness than that. He had never even seen a woman in their building before. She could be gone as soon as morning, and it had been stupid to fixate on her at the apartment. Don't name it, Nick always said, and it didn't matter if they were talking about a fly or a mouse or a target – the principle remained. Give it a name and it's all over.
Alex closed the door behind him, then laid her carefully on the covers. He considered Octavia's slack limbs and her peaceful face and her weirdly optimistic pink sweater. Dominic had never even said the words. Alex wanted to think that he was the sort of man who, if his boss had demanded he kidnap her, would have had the decency to refuse. He'd been tricked. Dominic had spun the idea into motion like a top, knowing there would be little option once the girl had seen them break into Victor's apartment.
Where she had to ice her hands. His eyes drifted to the damage there and then, despite himself, he looked at her. Really looked. At her skin, white like soft linen. Her eyelashes, powdery-black. The freckles. Her collarbone, prominent in a way that suggested she was under-nourished. It made him uncomfortable, but he longed to examine her further.
He brushed one fingertip along the delicate skin of her collarbone, wondering at her warmth and softness. He hooked it into the collar of that pink sweater and gently stretched it.
Bruises.
He let go. I could have set you free, he thought. But Nick would never have agreed to it. The guilty feeling kept climbing his throat until it had him by the mouth. Alex retrieved the pocket knife he kept clipped to his belt and sliced the bonds at her wrists and ankles. He supposed he owed her that much. He glanced down, clipping his pocket knife back into place.
Octavia's body jumped to life. He didn't know because he saw it, but because something crashed into his jaw and light exploded behind his eyelids. He turned away with a loud cry, rubbing at the side of his face. There was a surge of anger that he quickly swallowed, reminding himself that it was a woman who'd hit him, and a frightened one at that. When he recovered and looked down again, she was gone. Dominic's round, silver-rimmed alarm clock rolled across the covers. The bedroom door was still swinging on its hinges behind him.
"Wait!" he called, sprinting after her.
Alex ran to the stairwell door, flinging it open and taking the steps up two at a time. The girl glanced back at him from the landing at the turn, her hands tugging the railings. Alex imagined she wouldn't feel the pain in them right away. He pushed himself harder, feet pounding each stair, and at the next landing he tackled her against the concrete wall.
"I'll scream," she panted.
"It wouldn't do any good," Alex replied. Her eyes were so wide and her skin so flushed; he realized he'd better come up with something less ominous to say. "I mean, I'm not going to hurt you. So you don't have to scream."
She looked up, pinned between his outstretched arms. "Then why was I on a bed?"
"I...It wasn't my bed. I would never—"
She narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing him, and then her whole face abruptly softened. "You killed him," Octavia said. Her voice was reverent.
Alex frowned. "Who?"
"Victor. He was threatening your partner and you shot him. I wanted to thank you. I'm almost sorry I hit you." She snaked her arms around his waist and moved in close for a hug.
Alex was afraid to move, holding his breath. He asked himself how she knew to run upstairs, rather than down?
There was a familiar sound, and then his own pocket knife was being pointed at him. "I need you to show me the way out," she said. The hand holding the blade shook, thumb waxy-white.
"I don't think you understand," Alex replied. "I've been told to deliver you to that room. The man that room belongs to, he expects you to be there. You can stab me ten times and that won't change."
"Point, then. Just point and walk the other way."
"Calm down. We have to get back downstairs—"
She lunged, making an honest enough effort with the knife. Alex jumped back. She used the distance to bolt for the next flight of stairs.
Alex pumped his legs until he caught up, hooking one arm around her narrow waist. He pulled her off balance. Octavia brought her right hand down fast to steady herself on the rail, but instead she cracked the knife against it. It fell and bounced off one stair, then the one below it, and so on. Alex dragged her back to the landing.
"I can't stay here," she moaned, scratching at everything in reach but catching nothing of use. "I have to get out."
Alex spun her around and pushed his shoulder into her stomach. She bent unwillingly, but could finally be towed back to Dominic's room. He would have to come back for his knife.
It nagged at him that she already had a name, and that Nick was right. It was making everything so much worse.