Deconstructing Bridges

Chapter Seven

For the next couple of minutes, there was utter silence. There was barely even the sound of breathing, as the four individuals in the room took in the situation they had found themselves in.

Matthew fought to restrain the beast snarling within his chest as he looked upon the unsmiling woman who was now barely recognisable to him. The tantalising, flirtatious smile of the woman who had been his lover and companion was replaced with a fierce and determined gleam directed at her husband. No hint of the light-hearted nature he had come to associate with her since the moment they had first met. This woman was all-business, focussed, emotionless, and it was not a stretch to imagine that this was, in fact, the real her. This level of seriousness was difficult to fake.

He cleared his throat.

"Been a while, Bridges."

His arm was steady, his voice was like ice. He could see in her eyes - she knew he was completely serious. He was not, in any way going to be fooled by her again. He could almost see the cogwheels rotating, trying to figure out their next move.

Their eyes remained locked as she seemed to measure the pros and cons of breaking her own silence. Her tongue moistened her lips before she parted them to utter one single word.

"Matthew."

"It seems we interrupted something here. Apologies. I'm guessing it's no coincidence that when on a Frederick Marshall hunt, we find you here in cahoots with one of his right hand men?"

She did not respond, and that seemed to infuriate him only further.

"So it's true. Your being linked to Marshall? Freddie Marshall? All this time?"

"Don't act like all this is a surprise, Matthew. You've had time to process all this."

She had barely moved a muscle, not a flinch as he accused her.

He felt the fury spreading like fire inside of him.

"Do you have any idea what he has done?"

"I don't care."

The heat was seeping from his pores, he could feel the sweat building beneath his clothing. He was meant to be concentrating. This trip was about Lindfield, not Rose, but the other man barely even registered.

"You don't care about anything, do you?"

"Bridges," Eddie whispered softly, urging him with his tone to be sensible.

"Are you guys going to just continue catching up, or are you going to do something about the fact that she's holding a fucking gun to my head?" Wallace's voice was strained, almost as though his windpipe was somehow occluded, and they realised they had been completely cavalier about the fact that the woman in their sights still had the nozzle of her gun pointed at the man's brainstem.

Was it a ruse? Was she actually working with this man, and this was just to catch them off guard? To force them to leave them alone Or was it real? Was the threat against Wallace a serious one?

If they didn't take it seriously and the moment ended in blood splatter, their heads would be on the chopping block.

Matthew straightened his aim at her again, making it clearer that she was dead in his sights.

"Let him go."

His voice was grim, steady, and she straightened her shoulders resolutely, her stare matching his.

What did he expect? An evil smirk? Perhaps.

Rose's eyes flickered between the two policemen as though she was still assessing her options. Finally she lessened the pressure on the man's neck, lowering the weapon to her side. She did not release her hold on the gun, and one of her hands remained on the man's shoulder, encouraging him to remain in the chair.