Next morning…
The warm rays of dusk sipped through the glass windows of the small cozy bedroom — with the bed sheets still ruffled and heaped with a few fabrics.
The bathroom door pushed open as Mathieu's body emerged. Still dripping with water and clothed only from the waist down, he strode towards the dressing table to pick up a bottle of lotion.
Carefully greasing his colourfully tattooed skin, he hummed softly—
THUD!
Before his head turned to the sound behind him, his hand darted to the barrel handle strapped to the side of the dresser — the gun clicked in his grasp, aiming at the window.
His brows quirked.
A soiled hand stayed latched to the clear glass as the figure stood on the other side, blood-dried hair hooding their face.
Squinting his eyes slightly, he tilted his head before speaking in doubt, "Karen?"
Karen properly raised her head to look at him.
Placing her second palm on the smooth surface, Karen pushed the window apart as she hoisted herself over the frame and into the room in a single effort.
Her bare feet landed on the carpet.
Mathieu slowly lowered the gun as he gauged her from head to toe. His grimace was one of confusion and worry. "What the fuck happened to you?"
Covered in dirt and dried blood, Karen's clothing was partially ripped, with signs of bullet holes and tears.
With her hair wrinkled stiff from dried blood and her face smudged, Karen carefully flexed her neck to relieve tension.
"Lovely to see that you finally care."
"I was going to help. Was just giving it a night to see if it was serious enough to intervene."
Karen ignored his words as she turned towards the bathroom door and casually dragged her feet.
Mathieu simply watched.
On reaching the door, he finally asked, "Who were they?"
"Not sure." She walked in, leaving the door slightly open as she continued. "Something about the father of some fucker I butchered years ago."
"Huh? Who?" Mathieu was only more confused. "And what happ—"
"No idea. Not that it matters anymore," she scoffed. "They won't be a problem again…"
The sound of rushing water filled the air.
Mathieu remained still for a moment before letting out a soft sigh and dropping his gun on the dresser.
After a good long moment, Karen finally stepped out in a robe as she dried her hair with a towel.
Mathieu was already seated on a chair leaning against the wall, a magazine in his grasp. He lowered it at the sight of her walking to the bed.
"Glad it wasn't anything serious." Mathieu's words of concern fell on deaf ears as Karen walked to the dresser to oil her clear, unbruised skin.
Seeing her disinterest in acknowledging his sympathy, Mathieu tossed the magazine as he finally crossed his arms to get down to business. "Drogo Vetter doesn't exist."
She paused.
Her eyes finally graced him.
His expression hardened. "While Eddie searched for him on the dark web, his entire system got corrupted and wiped in a damn second."
Karen frowned. "Guess church boy really has a lot to hide."
"And he knows we're snooping," Mathieu stated.
Taking a moment in silence, Karen thought out loud. "He has a strange tattoo."
"And?" Mathieu's fingers tapped against his crossed arms. "I thought we figured that much out due to his turtleneck obsession."
"Drogo Vetter is a German pretending to be American, with quite secretive digital tracks that can't even be found on the dark web… Plus, his level of expertise to be able to hack our hacker."
Her brows furrowed. "I have a feeling there's something about his tattoos."
Mathieu tutted. "Throwing a fishing line into the ocean won't get you a whale."
Karen shook her head. "I know what I'm saying, damn it."
Mathieu scoffed, unconvinced.
She continued, "My adductor identified him by his tattoos. And if they caught its attention, then they must be truly unique."
Mathieu finally exhaled. "So what's the plan then? What are you suggesting?"
"Quite simple, actually."
His attention piqued.
"We need to see Drogo Vetter naked."
• • •
Later that evening…
Drogo's car pulled to a halt in his driveway, not long before he stepped out and shut the car with a calm thud.
On reaching his front porch, he paused for a moment, scrutinizing his environment as if sensing something odd.
His brows scrunched in suspicion.
Walking into his apartment, he let out a soft sigh before plummeting onto the cozy sofa by the dim fireplace.
His legs spread apart as he sank deeper into the cushion, his neck flexing against the headrest.
KNOCK KNOCK!
Huh?
Drogo's head raised.
KNOCK KNOCK!
Taking note of the time on his watch, his glance returned to the door with a frown.
It was 2:12 AM. What sane person would be knocking at his door at this time? He got up with a suspicious glare, measuring his steps to the door.
He placed his hand on the knob. "Who is it?"
"It's Karen Benjamin."
His brows arched high.
Opening the door with caution, he carefully peeked through the slim line he allowed between the door and frame — his gaze fell on the inappropriate figure on his front porch.
Karen stood with a wide smile, her gloved hands behind her back and her attire wrapped in a trench coat that fell below her knees.
Her straightened bob cut ended above her shoulders, a side of her hair slightly held back by a golden hair clip.
"Good morning…" Her voice rang with a warm tone.
Drogo blinked twice. "Ms. Benjamin?… W-What are you doing here at this hour?" The gap between the door and frame still didn't widen.
His guards were up. High.
Maintaining a calm demeanor and charming smile, she responded, "I came to speak to you."
"That's obvious…" His brow arched. "But why now?"
"It's urgent, Doc."
Well, that was the first time she ever acknowledged his title.
Drogo didn't budge.
"Ms. Benjamin, why don't we arrange for a proper meeting tomorrow—"
"It's urgent, Doc." Her tone came out flatter and somewhat cold as her gaze darkened.
Gauging her figure and her back, he finally sighed. "Come in." He stepped back to pull open the door.
Karen strode in. "A lovely place you have here, Doc," her eyes wandered around his mini cozy living room — nothing too extra or elite.
Watching her back, Drogo shut the door behind him. "Thank you."
She continued to scrutinize his home, her hands not staying at her sides as she touched and brushed against every décor and piece of furniture.
"Do you live alone?" she asked without turning in his direction.
"Yes." His hands returned to his pockets, his head crooking slightly as his silver hair brushed above his brows.
Drogo's eyes narrowed. "But you should know that already, given the fact that you've been spying on me for the past few days."
Karen paused. Her lips cracked into a grin.
"Such a heavy accusation, Doc." She finally faced him. "Whatever do you so mean?"
Pulling a hand from his pocket, he tossed an item in her direction — in a single swipe, her fingers grasped it.
It was her phone.
Her grin widened.
"You aren't very subtle when trespassing on one's property and snooping where you're not supposed to." He crossed his arms.
"Subtlety hasn't been my greatest strength," she slid her phone into her pocket as she recalled dropping it in his yard when she was kidnapped the previous night.
Letting a moment of judgmental silence wedge between them, Drogo took a step closer to her.
"Who exactly are you, Ms. Benjamin?"
"I believe that's my question, Dr. Vetter." She popped a hip to the side to anchor her hand. "Your little Christian philanthropist mask doesn't stick quite well on your face."
Drogo let out a dry chuckle, carrying no effort, as he shook his head. "I suggest you leave my home and tame those you have digging into places they shouldn't."
"And what if I don't?"
"Then you'll have the police to answer to."
"Bold," she chuckled. "Under what charges?"
His brow twitched. "You have not only the audacity to stalk me, Ms. Benjamin… but you trespass on my property, threaten my safety, and even bring a gun into my home."
Karen's expression immediately cracked — her brows knitting. How did he?…
Drogo paced forward to shorten the gap to an arm's length between them — his figure looming over hers.
Her eyes matched his, her neck flexing slightly, the stern look in her eyes unwavering.
"You're carrying a gun," Drogo said softly.
Karen didn't respond, her eyes never breaking from his.
Moving her hand to the corner of her inner jacket, she smirked. "Yet you were dumb enough to step closer."
CLACK!
She cocked the gun in the space between them.
Her lips pulled apart to highlight a fine smile. "Well then. Let's get down to business."