Needless to say, when Nikita called Michael and explained what had transpired, he insisted on accompanying her. This was not a situation Nikita had been very happy with.
Sage Matthews had been murdered in a small room in a pitiful hotel. By the time they arrived, journalists, cameramen and a few horrified passers-bys already surrounded the place.
Michael got out of Nikita's car, observed the surroundings and quickly located Marco who was talking with his colleague, Carla Malone, by the building. He waited for his partner, but Nikita just stared straight ahead giving no indication that she knew Michael was waiting for her until she saw him glare in her direction and then hurriedly joined him.
Michael acted oblivious to her displeasure at his presence. He found it interesting how easily she could get irritated with him, and he often forced his hand just to witness her body express repressed fury. Nikita was the type of person that managed to make everyone aware if and when she was unhappy.
Marco moved forward and, even though he acknowledged both of them, his attention was focused on Nikita; knowing from experience that the other guest would hardly share much information with him. He led them inside the shabby hotel to the yet shabbier room where Sage had met with her assumed assassin, whom no one remembered seeing.
Nikita thought it was truly a sad place to die, a single, untouched bed with foul violet sheets, low lighting and a very tiny bathroom where, Marco said, the murder took place. Police officers were still moving in and out searching for elusive evidence of the crime. It could be a figment of the imagination, but she felt colder and shuddered.
Marco was asking them if there was any information they should share with him and how Sage was implicated in their business, but she let Michael handle it, which he did by saying that they were obligated to their clients by confidentiality. She wanted to respond to that, but she didn't get involved in the conversation. She could hardly distinguish their words, attracted as she was in spite of herself by the bathroom 's threshold.
Moving over there, she saw the bathtub where Marco had indicated the body had been found; naked, disfigured by numerous deep blade-like cuts in a pool of blood. It took Nikita exactly five seconds to realize that she was no longer picturing Sage, but actually seeing her.
It was impossible; Sage was at the morgue! However, Nikita actually saw her, lying with her platinum head out of the bathtub, a tattoo on her shoulder, as she soaped her legs.
Nikita blinked twice in rapid succession and the image faded.
Her eyes caught the blood-written words on the surface of the mirror, not particularly legible. It was probably Sage's blood. She had not screamed or fought her attacker; otherwise somebody would have heard her and nobody had. Was she drugged?
Nikita felt even colder.
Fear grabbed at her wildly beating heart with long claws. It was Sage's fear. The bathroom's walls exuded it, and it was affixing itself to her.
Her gaze returned to the blood-streaked mirror. She saw Sage's lips begin trembling like she was about to break into tears while she desperately tried to hold herself together.
Nikita deeply exhaled and inhaled in a strenuous attempt to control her body. i Fuck /i . She wouldn't puke like a damned schoolgirl!
''Ni-ki-ta, are you all right?''
She felt, rather than heard, Michael who now stood behind her.
''It's okay. I just need some fresh air.''