Legacy (Sociopath Series Book 2)(64)

You could say he resembled me, if I’d been put through a rack and stretched just enough to seem older. Leaner. He’s narrow but strong, has a way of holding himself that says he could crack a brick across your skull; he has my nose, my strong cheekbones, my ashen blond hair. It’s like looking into a dusty mirror and then sneezing enough to distort the reflection.

“I guess this solves my first question,” I say.

“And what would that be?”

I set my gaze on him. “Which one of us is prettier.”

He laughs, almost too loudly. “You’ve got your priorities just so, ain’t you?” A stronger accent creeps in, right at the end. If I was at my best, I might be able to recognize it, but the important thing is, he’s putting this shit on. Performing.

“I don’t have room for a lot of priorities right now.”

“Correct.” He drags a chair along the uneven floorboards and plants it just a few feet from mine. There, he sits opposite, right in a curdling vein of sunshine that cuts him in half. His upper lip curls. “You stink.”

“What did you do to me?”

Come on, come on. Take the bait. I know you want to brag, you f*cker.

“Not much. The best is yet to come, I’d say. Isn’t that exciting?”

“So exciting, I pissed myself.”

“That’s my fault.” He cocks his head, his brow creasing pensively. “Or technically, the fault of the drugs. Isn’t that one of the things the drugs do, Harvey?”

He nods from his hunched position in the corner. Grunts.

“They make you seizure too. Is your tongue sore? You’re talking like a f*cking mongoloid, so I’m guessing you had a few. Probably swallowed a good lot of blood.” His eyes widen as he says blood. It’s barely noticeable, but it’s there. “They make you bite down, and all there is to bite is…well. I’m sorry about the chain situation. And the tape. Really, I am, but you can’t be too careful.”

“How courteous.”

“I have a problem, Aeron.”

I wait. Give him the space to elaborate. He’s already a talker; I’ve got no choice but to let him run with this, even if his breath smells like a garbage truck on a hot day.

“But I’m a problem solver. You are too—I can tell. See, thing is, you’re mad. And you’re frightened—don’t worry, it happens to the best of us now, doesn’t it?—but if I untie you, and you’re mad and frightened, you’ll try to hurt me. In doing that, you’ll only hurt yourself.”

“And why’s that?”

“I’m not a kind man.”

I swallow on a dry throat. “Makes two of us.”

“It’s not a competition.” He smiles again. Fuck me if he doesn’t look oddly charming, even amid his own stench. “But I don’t want to keep you tied up. It’s not what civilized men do.”

“Then you’re right. We do have a problem.”

“So how about we make a trade, huh? You want something. I want something. Let’s make this easy on each other.”

“I’m listening.” I don’t remember the last time my patience was so frayed. It’s holding by the tiniest thread.

“I’d like to know about what happened with Rachel. Yes, you know who I’m talking about. Wonderful.” He raises his eyebrows in contained pleasure. “In return, I’ll tell you who I am.”

“Exactly what do you want to know?”

“Oh, it’s not for me.” He cocks his head back toward the corner. “This one’s for Harvey. There are some things it’s his right to know. What with his position.”

“He doesn’t have a position anymore,” I say bluntly.

“No, I suppose he doesn’t…with you.”

Harvey twists in his seat, folding his thick arms. The room waits for me to speak.

“You know what I did to Rachel,” I say finally.

Older Me leans forward, his eyes shining. “But that’s the beauty of it, Aeron. He really doesn’t.”

There’s no getting out of this. It infuriates me to just play ball, but without it, I’m stuck.

I’d say I have nothing to lose, but we all know that’s not true.

“I think he read about it in an email,” I manage.

“Did you hear that, Harvey? You read about it. Do you remember what that email said?”

“No,” Harvey grunts. “I do not.”

“Aeron. Be a gent and elaborate, if you will.”

I breathe out through my teeth, though when the air rushes over the tiny splits in my tongue, I regret it. “I cut her * into ribbons. Good and proper. She bled like a f*cking sprinkler and she had to get stitched up. There. Does that cover it?”

“I don’t know.” He presses his lips together. “Does it?”

“You’re f*cking sick,” Harvey mutters. “Both of you, sickest motherf*ckers I ever met.”

“Harvey’s not really one of us. But perhaps we can change that.” Older Me rubs his finely stubbled jaw, displaying neat, clean fingernails. “It’s useful to have a Jiminy Cricket around, though. Isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t know.”