The Fall(16)

“You broke my phone.”

“GPS chip makes you traceable, I took care of it.”

“You don’t think that when people can’t get ahold of me, they aren’t going to be worried? When I don’t show up for duty tomorrow, it’s going to raise some questions.” I wouldn’t be surprised if it was my own Captain who filed a missing person’s report. I’d never failed to show up for work, not even called in sick. People would be wondering where I was.

“So you suddenly developed a case of the flu.” He’d lost the jacket he’d been wearing earlier. His arms flexed on either side of him, the bulge of his weapon poking through the fabric of his shirt. Even inside he was armed. I wasn’t sure if it was me or there was someone else he didn’t trust, but I was guessing he was more comfortable with steel against his skin than without it.

“There’s a burner phone downstairs. Make the call; tell them you expect you’ll need a couple of days and hang up. Don’t try to be a hero or tip them off, and keep the call under five minutes.” His dark eyes warned that he’d be standing by to make sure his criteria would be met.

“And what happens after a few days?” My mouth continued to speak at will despite knowing it was irritating the hell out of him. Probably because I knew it was irritating the hell out of it.

“Jesus, do you ever stop asking questions? Like ever?” His head shook, his hand scrubbing the side of his face as he kept his eyes glued on me. “You have to know by now I’m not going to answer them.”

He didn’t like to show emotion—or converse—both of those things had been kept to a minimum since he showed up on my doorstep. But as he stood there looming over me, I thought I saw a crack in his usual passive brooding. I couldn’t tell if it was bewilderment, like perhaps he was more used to people laying down and accepting his way, or if it was amusement. Much like a cat toying with a mouse they have trapped. There was no need to guess as to which of us was the mouse.

“If the situation was reversed, would you just go quietly? Not ask questions?” I’m not sure why I was trying to appeal to his humanity, or why I continued to push. It hadn’t gotten me anywhere, but it was the only thread of sanity I had left.

“I would never be in your situation,” he answered coldly, the distaste either for me or my situation dripped in each word. “Go to sleep. And in case I didn’t make myself clear, that wasn’t a request.”

He didn’t wait for a reaction or a response, turning on his heel and vacating the space. The heavy footfalls of his boots echoing down the stairs as I stayed rooted in my place in the bathroom. He was so f*cking arrogant, bossy as hell and I had already decided I hated him. But even with all of that, my gut instinct told me to stay. Lord knows why. Whatever trouble he thought I was in wasn’t the kind that could be solved in a few days. And I knew it was only a matter of time before I’d be deposited somewhere at my father’s bequest. Like an errant runaway being returned to their family. The thought made me want to be physically sick.

I wouldn’t go.

Even if it meant dying, I wouldn’t go to him. I refused to see the look of satisfaction on his face when he would see me, no doubt reminding me that there would never be a way out. That even though I tried to deny it, I was damned because of the family I’d been birthed into. But I was done with all of that, and no matter what my birth certificate said, I would never be his daughter again. Never.

My stomach churned uneasily, the possibility of vomiting becoming less of a hypothetical the more I thought about it. I pushed down the urge, refusing to allow the bile rising up to travel any further as I opened up the faucet and took another mouthful of water. I was stronger than this; I mentally chastised myself as I concentrated on the air I was sucking into my lungs.

Breathe, I repeated, my internal pep talk hopefully enough so I could get a handle on my nerves.

Breathe.

I would be okay.

Whatever this was, it wouldn’t be what claimed me.

I had no way of knowing that for sure. In reality everything pointed to the opposite, a bad outcome. But in my heart I believed I would survive this.

With my breathing slowed and the danger of me being sick minimized, my hand eased off the faucet. The room was as it had been when I walked into it. Empty and sterile—me, the only person in it.

Michael hadn’t returned, and that made me feel uneasy. I didn’t want to see him, hating the weight of those cold dark eyes on me. But not knowing what he was doing was almost worse. Wondering if he was in the wings watching me, reveling in all of this. It was the not knowing that made it hell.

The minor freak out in the bathroom had gone on long enough I’d decided, my hands shaking off any excess water before hitting the light switch and walking back into the hall. I didn’t bother closing the door, or trying to be silent as my bare feet padded against the floor. I didn’t care if he heard me or not, but as much as I hated to admit it, he was right about one thing. If I was going to get through an entire day of uncertainty tomorrow, I would need some sleep. My instincts would be sharper after a few hours rest, and as much as I would love to pretend I was a machine, the need to power down hinted I was very much human.

As I reentered his room, his lingering scent once again invaded my nose, and it didn’t matter I was alone, he was right inside that room with me.