19. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Stepping into the meeting Monday morning is like wading through a swamp. I don't know what everyone got into this weekend, but the room smells stale as fuck and the tension is palpable. When I make my way deeper into the room, toward the end of the grand table, I stop dead in my tracks when I realize where the smell is coming from. I blink, then meet the eyes of a few of the guys sitting at the table, who all give me wide eyed looks in return. Then they look away as if they don't want to be the one to explain.

I have no idea what the fuck this is all about, but what Franky said about Remington being out of control has just been proven. Not like I didn't already know this, but damn, there's no denying it now.

At the head of the table, sitting in a wing-back chair, is a dead body.

It's grey and slightly bloated. If I had to guess, I'd say it's been dead two or three days. No idea who it is, but it looks like it's going to start smelling really fucking bad any second now. I clear my throat, turn around, and find the seat furthest away. Meaning, closer to Remington. I wondered why there were so many people up front in the splash zone. Now I know why. I'd rather get spit on by Remington than sit near a rotting corpse.

It's oddly quiet as we wait for Remington and Reginald to show. Knowing what I know about them, there is no way Reg is privy to this. He would never, and I mean never, allow something like this to happen. I've been working with the guy for over five years now, and all he's done is live up to the respectful reputation he built for himself. And here Remi is destroying it like an insolent little child.

Remington proving that he's lost his god damn mind is even more of a reason for me to get the fuck out of here.

Sev has to die.

The room eventually fills with men standing against the walls because no one will take up the five seats on either side of the table toward the back. Don't blame them, but this won't go over well.

And I'm right.

When Remington walks in, his father hot on his heels, he frowns.

"What are you shitheads doing? Sit the fuck down!"

The standing men all share a concerned look, but no one moves.

Reginald looks at the guys, like he's about to say something in support of his son, but then his eyes settle on the dead body, and they widen. Then the anger is there, and he turns to Remington, whispering something to him in harsh words that we can't hear.

Remington laughs, pats his father on the back condescendingly, and gestures for him to go away with a flick of his wrist. Reginald shakes his head but sits in the corner seat like he usually does.

The poor guy must be so embarrassed by what his son is doing to the family. Hell, I'm embarrassed and I'm nothing.

"You all have ten seconds to sit down, or I'll shoot you." Remington pulls his gun from the back of his waistband and the guys race toward the end of the room, all of them fighting over the seats furthest away from our dead friend. I don't think there is a single person in this room that thinks Remington won't shoot them.

The guys who end up sitting closest to him hide their faces in their shirts to stunt the smell, but if you've ever smelled decaying flesh, you know nothing hides that shit. Certainly not the thin cotton of a t-shirt.

And this is why I make sure I'm early for everything. I never want to be the person who's stuck in a shitty seat. It's too distracting. Bet these guys are hardly going to leave here remembering anything because all they can focus on is the disgusting body.

"I want an update on the Piano Man!" Remington yells, slapping his palm on the table.

Great. Right to that. Let's ignore the elephant in the room.

I wonder if I should say something, but decide I'll wait to see what others have to say first. I'm not going to tell them that the fucker has been kidnapping me, but I could give a hint that I know who he is. Not sure if I want everyone to know how much I know. They'll hassle me, and I don't want that. Probably best I keep my mouth shut about all of it. Don't even let them know I'm going after him. Sticking to my original plan is the best bet. No one needs to know what I'm up to.

Turner, one of the young guys, raises his hand and says, "I've been working on putting together the locations he's struck to see if I can find any patterns in that or who he's killed so far."

Remington looks at him. Blinks. Then blinks again. "If the FBI doesn't have that information, what makes you think you will? You think you're smarter than the FBI?"

"Actually, yes," Turner says confidently. "My IQ is well above average, and it's possible I'd see something before they do."

Remington makes a displeased sound. Then looks around the room again. "Anyone else?" He continues to scan the room, waiting to see who will answer. "If I increase the reward to ten million, will there be more takers?"

Chatter starts around the room. Whispers and whistles. My heart does a flip.

Ten million?

Reginald shakes his head. The guy looks like he aged ten years just from walking into the room.

There wasn't a sign-up form for this task. Whoever brings his head is the winner. Maybe Remington thinks Turner is the only person who took it on. I already know that's bullshit because Freddy shared information with me. Not much, but enough to know there are a handful of people after Sev. There is no way anyone in this room has a hand up on me.

Unless they do…

Sev kidnapping everyone and playing this little game of his could be something he's doing with everyone. I've already considered this possibility. Why do I think I'm special? Sev's obsession could know no bounds. He could be fucking with us all. Seems like something he'd do. The guy likes to play games, so why not play the biggest one of all?

I still have no idea how he found out I was going after him in the first place. It's the biggest mystery to me. The simple answer is someone told him. But I didn't tell anyone. Maybe someone else here told him and he scouted everyone? Tapped all of our phones to see who was looking up details on him and who wasn't.

"I'll take that as acceptance," Remington says.

"Jesus Christ, Remi," Reginald groans. "This is insanity!"

Remi ignores his father, and we continue on with the meeting. We get our monthly list of tasks, and I'm paired up with Freddy again. Honestly grateful for that. I'm in no mood to deal with one of Remington's little butt buddies. They're liable to get me shot, and then I'll have to kill them too.

The moment I leave the meeting I text Reese, letting him know to call me when he's back from his honeymoon because I need to talk to him about something serious. I don't want to head over there before I'm settled and have to live with him, but hanging around Remington is not a safe fucking bet. I'll give myself a little more time to figure out this Piano Man shit and the stuff with my parents. If I can't, I'll get over myself, live with Reese, and ask for his help. It's better than dying.