Freeze (The Jewel Project #4)

12.1|| The Feud

Mizrelle was pissed as hell. And it suited Sam just fine. It manifested in ignoring them pointedly and refusing to give them any assignment that put them out on the street. The only bad part was that them didn't include Angie as well.

As if wanting to test her, Mizrelle kept sending Angie out to do the most absurd and dangerous tasks, even try to briefly infiltrate a rivaling faction. What the head of Paris didn't know was that Angie was used to dealing with stuff a whole lot more difficult. The ease with which she completed her tasks had Sam almost laughing, especially because it visibly aggravated Mizrelle.

He knew it was petty and in the long run an unhappy Mizrelle was a useless Mizrelle, but he couldn't help the joy he got from Angie owning her. And the best part was that, even if out on the street, Angie was as safe as she could be. Snitch Gravel's more competent men must've fled Paris with Christine, so if any were left behind, the chances that they wouldn't recognize Angie were high.

So he was more than satisfied to sit around and read the books on French history Angie kept bringing back for him, trying to find mentions of a giant jewel.

Tom on the other hand was like a lion trapped in a cage. He resented Mizrelle's decisions and constantly raged against her in private, though he wisely kept to himself while in front of other people. He also left the room for long periods of time, making friends with the other street thugs.

The little time he did spend inside their room, he dedicated to pummeling a punching bag he'd brought in from somewhere or doing other physically draining activity. Even now, as Sam laid on his bed, reading, Tom kept doing push-ups with one hand. Which was very distracting and annoying since Sam could barely do them properly with two hands.

"This sucks," Tom spat, finally getting off the floor.

"Is that so, Tommy?" Mizrelle had stopped in the threshold, watching him with sick satisfaction.

"Very much so," he mumbled. "I'm not an inside guy. I want out."

"You just want to keep track of your girlfriend."

"Not even that. I'm just suffocating in here." He took his wet t-shirt off and started searching inside the wooden box they used as a dresser.

For the fraction of a second, Sam was sure Mizrelle would start drooling on the floor, but then, her lustful expression turned into one of shock and horror.

"Tommy, your back..."

The little light coming from the bulb in their room shone eerily off the scars on Tom's back. Sam had gotten used to seeing them by now, and he actually felt better because he'd noticed them fading over time. Jerry had spent weeks after they returned from the labs nursing his twin's back, and apparently all those lotions had helped a little. Sam doubted the scars would ever fade, but maybe Tom would get to go to the beach without gathering horrified stares.

"What happened?" Mizrelle whispered.

Tom threw her an unimpressed glance. "I fell in the tub."

Sure. If the tub was filled with sharks, or nails, or shards of glass. Tom's refusal to share what had happened turned the shock on Mizrelle's face into sadness and Sam's heart tightened for a second. She really did care about him in her own, twisted way.

They stood in awkward silence as Tom pulled a dusty grey t-shirt on, covering their conversation topic.

"I have a guy who could put awesome ink over those, if you're interested," she finally said, a hopeful note in her voice.

"Great. Prison tattoos. What I've always wanted," he answered with fake enthusiasm.

Mizrelle actually cringed and Sam tried not to feel too sorry for her, but pissed Tom was a little scary. His cloudy expression suddenly vanished as he looked past Mizrelle and towards the door. Sam followed his gaze to see Angie there, and his entire world brightened.