A/N: So... no more OB... Well, at least this Saturday, and for those who like it, you'll have a new chapter to read. Get that Cophine fix!
Thanks to Cophine, my beta, for the amazing work!
The frigid wind whips at my face as Delphine drives us at a moderate speed along the the slow traffic. Soon, my cheeks start to feel numb with the cold and I have no other option but to hide my head behind Delphine's back, unable to see the road ahead of us. Occasionally glancing to the side, I notice she's taken us out of the city and into the countryside, using secondary roads that are barely cleared of snow, keeping the motorcycle in the tire tracks left behind by other vehicles. Despite the speed and the slippery road, she carefully maintains the bike's stability, not once skidding or losing an inch of control. She's a skilled driver, that much is obvious.
What isn't obvious, is what the hell is she's doing in Poland. How did she know where I was and how was it possible for her to get to me so quickly after the shooting?
I'm still trying to recover from what I'd witnessed, my mind unable to process the latest events. It all seems like a dream, something that really hasn't happened and a result of my active imagination. One moment Oskar was there, smiling naturally as he approached me, and the next he was laying on the wet pavement, in the middle of the street. Dead. No one dared approach his body, it all seemed so... cold, detached. Even Delphine showing up, out of nowhere, seems unbelievable. I feel her body against mine, my arms tightly around her strong torso. She breathes calmly, and I can feel the slow movement of her chest, smell her perfume when I press my nose to her jacket, but it doesn't feel real somehow. Maybe I'm just a little shellshocked.
Minutes bleed into each other, I have no notion of time, but eventually we slow down, taking a left turn onto a dirt road, now covered in deep snow in the middle of nowhere. Finally able to take in the view without the punishing wind, I move my head, pressing myself closer to her so I can peek over her shoulder. I hear nothing but the loud roar of the powerful motor, rolling slowly over the snow. It looks like any other countryside, a few trees stripped naked by the winter appear here and there on the flat, barren ground and the narrow road seems to stretch out for miles with no end in sight.
A small dot appears on the horizon and, as we get closer, it becomes a small house, more like a shack with a little porch, really, a decrepit wooden fence surrounds it. I would think it was abandoned if it wasn't for the small white car parked beside the house, under a poorly constructed rusted aluminum roof.
We stop in front of the low gate and Delphine dismounts. I do the same, standing there, the briefcase hanging limply in my hand, watching her open the gate with only a push and guide the motorcycle by the handles until it's next to the car. Next, she moves toward the door and only stops to see if I follow. I hesitate briefly, but eventually walk to her, closing the gate behind me. Satisfied, Delphine opens the door and steps inside.
Outside appearances are deceiving. The house is small, but fully equipped with dark wooden furniture from what I can see when I go in. The space is well used, a table with two chairs is placed against one of the walls, under the only window, and a large couch is placed in the middle of the room. The fireplace is out but seems to have been used recently, and a flat screen tv is mounted above it. One side of the space had been converted into a kitchen with a long counter and cupboard, fridge, stove, oven and even a microwave take up most of the area. On the other end there's a generously sized bed, a bedside table, a closet and a vanity with a laptop on top of it. The bathroom door is partially open and occupies a big chunk of the area next to the bed. It's a comfortable and we'll thought out space, even if a little dark and cold.
"I'm just gonna assume this is your vacation home," I comment when my eyes find Delphine, crouched in front of the fireplace, presumably to get it started.
"You can assume whatever you want," she replies, getting to her feet, a small flame already glowing. "The house should be warm soon."
She had taken off her helmet and placed it on the table, and was now removing her leather jacket, revealing a loose, gray turtleneck sweater underneath. Dropping the jacket casually on the bed, she strolled crossed the space to the computer.
"Does that mean you're not gonna tell me what the hell is going on?" I ask, approaching to her, shedding my own coat and beanie in the process.
On the screen I can see the front of the house. Clouds moving rapidly across the sky, and the clock on the bottom of the screen are the only indication that this is not live footage.
"Security camera?" I inquire with a raised brow.
She nods, her eyes on the screen until I see in reverse a blonde figure getting out and putting on a black helmet, riding away in the same motorcycle which has brought us here at 10:33, according to the clock on display.
Satisfied that there has been no activity while she was out, Delphine closes the laptop and sits on the bed, unlacing her big boots.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, knowing that if I don't, she won't volunteer any information.
"The same thing you are, I assume," she says in a careless tone, dropping one of the heavy boots on the carpeted floor.
"Did your fiancé asked you to come here and look for information on a possible business partner?" I ask drolly.
"Okay... So maybe not exactly the same." She drops the other boot with a groan, losing the thick wool socks and standing up.
"He called me, you know?" I continue to see if I can get any reaction out of her before frustration fully sets in.
"If you're here at his request, that's to be expected." She continues in a calm voice, walking to the kitchen area and filling a pot with water. "He's not the most trusting person."
"Actually, he wanted to thank me for looking after you the other night." At this, her movements stop for a brief second, before she turns on the stove, but says nothing.
"What were you thinking? Telling him something like that?"
Finally she turns to face me with a closed expression. "I was thinking that someone might've seen us leaving the house right after each other," she says quickly in a stern voice. "I was thinking how that fucking house has cameras all over the place and I should provide a good justification for us leaving before it came to his knowledge by other sources. So, yes, I told him I wasn't feeling well and you came out to help me."
My muscles lock in place, my entire body becomes tense. "You think he could see us..."
"No!" Delphine interrupts me and she spins back around, opening a cupboard door and taking out two mugs before I can get a glimpse of her reaction. "We were in a blind spot, I made sure of that."
"You know the placing of the cameras." It's an affirmation, a fact that only now dawns on me. "What... Who are you?"
Delphine doesn't answer, she doesn't even look at me to acknowledge my question. Instead she continues to prepare the tea, leaving one of the mugs on the small table. She crosses to the fireplace, placing her cup on its narrow lip and pokes the fire. I remain standing in the middle of the small room, watching her take a seat on the couch and turn on the TV to an English news channel.
I shouldn't be surprised that what happened in Warsaw is making headlines. Yet, it's with astonishment that I hear the news anchor going on and on about the shocking death of the journalist in the middle of the day in the large and peaceful European capital.
"Oh... this is not good," I think aloud, moving to get the cup of tea from the table and sitting next to Delphine.
"The traffic cameras would've caught you," Delphine says with her eyes on the TV. "Perhaps the cameras in front of the Bank too."
"Shit! Fucking big brother everywhere!" I let out, throwing my head back and closing my eyes. "I'm so fucked!"
"We don't know if it's possible to identify you," she offers in an almost comforting way. "The images captured by traffic cameras are very low quality and you never got that close to the Bank. But going back for the briefcase was not the best idea."
"Shit!" I repeat with even more conviction and turn around to look at the briefcase abandoned on the bed.
"I hope whatever you find in there was worth it," Delphine says, bringing the mug to her lips.
I take a deep breath and look at her. Calm and undisturbed, she doesn't seem to be very concerned about it. Since she picked me up this afternoon, Delphine has been the definition of control and composure, nothing seems to bother her one way or another. With her emotions well under wraps, she seems to know exactly what she's doing. Mrs. S would love to have her on our team.
What she won't like is to have another of us involved in another high profile death. After what happened in Sarah's failed mission, she will be fuming about this. Fortunately, it seems like the mainstream media still hasn't picked up the connection with the other shooting, but it's only a matter of time before they put two and two together. Even if the connection is vague, they'll soon start to wonder why, in such a small period of time, two people were gunned down by a sniper in the same city.
I, on the other hand, am already making the connection. It's too many coincidences to ignore and I wonder if the shooter is the same and what exactly is this person's agenda. By all appearances the two men are on opposite sides of the barricade: if Sarah's target was in any way involved in all this, he would be one of the Russians Oskar was investigating. And maybe there's where the connection lays, maybe someone is just covering their tracks.
I look back again to the briefcase and, placing the mug on the armrest of the couch, get up and get it. Delphine watches me in silence as I sit back and snap it open and remove from inside a spiral notebook and several sheets of paper that look like document copies.
"You know Polish?" Delphine seems impressed when she asks.
I give her a weak smile. "Nope. You?"
"A little," she tells me. "Not nearly enough to be of any real help."
"And who says I want your help?" I challenge childishly, regretting the words the moment I spoke them.
She chuckles, that light, soft laugh of hers that always had the ability to disarm me. "It didn't seem to bother you much when I was dragging your nice, little ass out of a crime scene."
"Hey, thanks!" I smirk at her and she rolls her eyes but continues to laugh. "In fact, I just need to see if a few names show up in here," I tap a finger on the papers resting on my lap, "at least, for now."
"I could give it a look, but you don't want my help." She narrows her eyes at me, the offhand banter present in her voice.
Delphine returns to her tea and I lose sight of her golden eyes, back on the TV screen and she leans lazily against the couch, extending her feet closer to the fireplace. She looks relaxed, her breathing evenly as she brings the mug to her lips for a long, last drink and gets up, taking my almost empty mug with her to wash in the kitchen sink.
She moves with ease, her bare feet on the now warm, wooden floor carry her with that innate grace that has captured my attention the moment I met her all those years ago. My eyes don't leave her, even as her back is turned to me and I take in her presence: serene, calm. The cargo pants sit low on her waist and even the loose wardrobe can't hide her sumptuous curves, the sinful shape of her body, as she moves around, rinsing the mugs and placing them on the side of the sink to dry.
"What are you looking at?" Her voice is low and carries a heaviness that sinks deep into my gut.
I swallow hard, surprised at being caught in my gawking even when she hasn't look at me. "You know... I would be much more inclined to trust you if I knew who you were," I say thickly, my eyes going immediately to hers the moment she turns around.
"I know," she nods and takes the few steps that bring her to the fireplace, leaning against its side and staring straight at me. "But if I'd wanted something bad to happen to you, do you think I would've taken you away from that mess and brought you here?"
I sigh deeply and lean my head back again. "What are you doing here, anyway?" I ask in a low, tired voice.
"Making sure nothing went wrong." She finally gives me an answer, however vague.
"Didn't exactly work out well, did it?" I say, opening my eyes and staring back at her.
"Nothing I can do against a sniper bullet." Delphine shrugs. "And a very good one at that. Whoever has gone for him, knew exactly what they were doing."
I chuckle humorously. "Funny, I think precisely the same thing about you."
Delphine twists her lips and frowns. "I'm not killing people!" She claims and the annoyance is obvious in her voice.
"I don't know that!" I say loudly, my frustration finally reaching its peak. "I don't know what the fuck you do! What the hell you're doing here! Showing up like a fucking superhero at exactly the right moment to take me away! All I know is that there's no way you're a fucking suburban housewife getting ready to marry some rich fuck!"
"You can't blame me for your wrong assumptions!" She strikes back, emotions finally painting her expression.
"Then what the fuck am I supposed to assume, huh?" I push, my hands slice the air as I stand up. "Last time I saw you, you were breaking my fucking heart, acting like what happened between us meant nothing to you other than a fucking experiment," I lash out. "Next thing I know, years have gone by and you're engaged to a guy that's sketchy at best."
She starts to pace, running her hands through the waves of her hair and laughing without humor. "So that's what this is about?" She replies, voice raising as she struggles to control her emotions. "Because I left you when we were kids?"
"We were not kids! What the fuck, Delphine?! Can't you admit that what you did was wrong and stop dismissing it?" I state with determination. "And no, this is not about that, this is about you leaving me completely in the dark about what is going on."
"Then why did you bring it up?" She counters, meeting my eyes with a challenging stare.
I stop suddenly, my brain knotting in confusion. Why did I bring it up? So stupid, caving into my emotions and calling her on a subject that's in no way related to our current predicament. Am I so emotional that I can't discuss something with her without bringing up old scars that never healed? Is it just the absence of closure? Just because I feel like we left our relationship unfinished? She doesn't seem to have this problem. For Delphine, the past is in the past and there's no reason for it to resurface and poke around in ancient history. And the more I realize this, the more it upsets me. She moved on - if she was ever stuck at all - and I wasn't allowed that privilege; she took it from me when she made all the decisions.
"I need to get back to my hotel," I whisper, turning my back on her and starting to put everything back in the briefcase.
"That's it?!" She asks, taken aback. "You're going to leave it like that?"
"Annoying, isn't it?" I say with defiance, a ghost of a smile prickling the corner of my lip, feeling a perverse pleasure at leaving her wanting an answer. "Not as fun when you're on the receiving end, right?"
"Pay back? Really?" She says, baffled.
"Restitution," I correct her, pulling the coat over my shoulders. "For past deeds."
"I didn't peg you for the revenge type," she comments, strangely stepping back and leaning her lower back on the dining table.
"Yeah? Well… too fucking bad!" I boldly respond, taking the briefcase and heading towards the door.
I'm reaching for the knob and, ridiculously, it's only now that hits me: storming out of the house is impossible when I'm in the middle of nowhere and Delphine's the only ride out of this place. So, I turn to face her and am confronted with an amused smile, a brow tilted up. She can read my thoughts, understand my situation, but doesn't take a single step in my direction, only crosses her arms over her chest to make it clear she has no intention to leave.
"Are you kidding me?!" I ask, not finding a hint of humor in all this.
"Ask nicely!" She smirks pretentiously, but then her features soften and her stance becomes less confrontational. "I'll take you after sundown. It's not a good idea for you to venture into the city just yet."
"You mean I'm stuck here with you until dark," I say still annoyed, but feeling my irritation melt fast; she's making a very valid point.
"There are worse places to be… and a lot worse company to keep." She finishes with a wink, her smile stretching wider.
I roll my eyes, taking off my coat and dropping it on the couch, next to the briefcase. "I liked you better when you were pretending to be clueless."
Delphine smirks. "Liar!"