The Fall(32)

“They will have either collected a corpse or received a report from one pissed off motherf*cker.” He continued, ignoring my stare. “For your sake, I hope their info is coming in the form of a body bag.”

His words chilled me, my skin pimpling as I fought the urge not to shiver.

“You’ve never killed anyone, have you?” He tilted his head to the side, the corner of his mouth lifting in amusement. He was enjoying it.

“You’re wrong. I have.” I straightened, not feeling any better that this hadn’t been my first time. It was one of the things that most separated me from my father—empathy, and my respect for human life. He hated that about me, saw it as weakness but I refused to see it that way. “I just don’t enjoy it.”

I had wanted to sound strong, confident, not let him see how rattled I was, but I didn’t. The words had wobbled out of my mouth with barely a whisper, and as brave as I was trying to be, taking someone’s life would never be something I celebrated. I couldn’t. It would make me no better than my father. I had spent a lifetime trying to prove to myself that, even though his blood coursed through my veins, I wasn’t him.

“It’s life or death, Sofia.” Michael’s voice surprised me. I’d expected him to exploit my weakness, ridicule it. But he wasn’t, his eyes softening from the hard glare I was used to. “Your life means their death, it’s that simple and you shouldn’t feel bad about wanting to survive. It’s instinct, one that is stronger than the need for decency.”

“That’s surprisingly profound.” I shook my head not expecting his kindness as I resisted the urge to thank him.

“Yeah, I also quote Nietzsche on occasion.” He smirked, surprising me in what I could only assume was an attempt at humor. “Go get some sleep; I have work to do.”

Twenty-four hours ago I would have been unnerved by that smile, convinced there was something more sinister lurking beneath. But as much as I wanted to hate Michael, he hadn’t pretended to be sincere when he wasn’t. His coldness was mechanical, not manufactured, and I didn’t believe he had it in him to be kind unnecessarily.

“Okay.” I nodded, knowing I’d been standing there like an idiot trying to analyze the situation long enough. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

It had been a long day, and as much as I hated not being in control, I was tired of arguing. Every part of my mind and body was demanding I shut down, unable to fully process everything we’d been through. Desperation to hit the reset button was what made my feet move one in front of the other as I made my way to the back of the warehouse, leaving Michael to do whatever he was going to do.

I expected a fold out cot in a corner but what I was confronted with was so surprisingly well thought out. Large planes of drywall had been internally erected to section off an area what I guessed was the living space he’d spoken of. It wasn’t fancy, the plaster bare but solid, squaring off about eight feet in the air and framed with wood to create a faux ceiling. A box within a box, the roof of the warehouse looming well above it, the lights swinging from the exposed metal beams.

The atmosphere felt different than the house, and not just because there were no windows. He didn’t need to tell me that the space was private, my breath quickening as I twisted the knob and opened the wooden door.

In the house I felt like a visitor, but here I felt like a complete interloper.

Cozy wasn’t a word I would usually throw around with my present company but what I was confronted with was remarkably just that.

My eyes roamed over the room as I closed the door behind me, hitting a light switch along the wall so I wasn’t in the dark. It was neat and tidy—something I had come to expect—with a large king-size bed in the middle of the room. The bed—like the one back at his house—was a simple box spring and mattress, right on the floor, but it was complete with tightly fitting sheets and a crisp dark blue comforter folded at the foot of the bed. And after everything I had been through I wanted nothing more than to slip between those linens and just forget for a few hours.

There was a door to my left that was closed that might have led to a bathroom, but I was too tired to care, kicking off my shoes and slowly peeling off my clothes until I had stripped down to my T-shirt.

My stomach grumbled, and with the cooler not surviving the journey, I wasn’t sure if eating was a possibility. I was too tired to care, refusing to give it much more thought as I pulled up the sheets and slid inside, the cotton soft against my skin.

It didn’t take long, my eyes closing involuntarily the minute my head hit the pillow. As much as I wanted to stay awake a little while longer, I couldn’t, and all those uncertain thoughts would be shelved. I had to trust I would be safe here and there was nothing more I could do.

Maybe it was the rush of adrenaline leaving my body, or maybe I was just emotionally and physically exhausted, but as I let go, sleep finally came.





The warehouse was more of a home than my house had ever been. I’d purchased it for cash off an old Italian guy who spoke little English and cared even less about my purpose for it. I had a feeling we had more in common than not, but both of us knew better than to ask questions. I used one of my bogus identities to register the sale, and as far as anyone knew it was an empty storage location where Peter Salas liked to restore boats. I even had parked an old wooden sailboat out front a few times just to keep up the pretense in case anyone was watching.