Rogue (Dead Man's Ink, #2)(37)
“Fuck, Soph,” he whispers. “Just…I can’t…”
My cheeks burn, my head swimming as he draws me even tighter and crushes me against his body. Is…is he this freaked out because of me? Surely not. Despite Maria Rosa, Raphael, Hector, dead Bron and dead Rico, I’m selfish enough to enjoy this fleeting moment in the dark. My fear has completely vanished. With his arms around me, it feels as though nothing bad could ever reach me here. Such a bizarre feeling.
“If something like this happens again, Sophia, this is where you come. You hear me? You come straight here. Promise me.”
“But where—”
“Promise me!”
“Okay, yes. I swear it. I promise.”
Rebel draws back, pulling in a deep breath. He lets me go then, and the fear returns with the force of a freight train. It’s amazing to me that I can be this terrified as soon as his presence is gone, and yet no more than a second ago I felt so safe.
Rebel moves around in the dark, not fumbling, apparently sure of his surroundings, and then the blackness vanishes as a strip light flickers on over head, casting a stark white light over everything inside…inside the huge office we’re now standing in. It’s immediately obvious whose office this is. On all four walls, white board material has been scribbled over from the floor to the ceiling; nearly ninety percent of the scribble is mathematical in nature, and absolutely none of it makes sense. Well, not to me, anyway.
Two large desks, one at either end of the room, are piled with papers, and some seriously expensive looking computers sit among the madness, apparently gathering dust. In between them on the far wall, a huge server stands like a tall, dormant monolith, all dark metal and LEDs that remain unlit.
Rebel watches me as I walk around, taking in the weirdness of the place. He leans against the tidier of the desks—I assume it’s his—observing me like I’m some sort of endangered zoo exhibit. “What is this place?” I ask him.
“This place is bomb proof. This place can withstand all hell breaking out around it, and no one will be able to get in. This is where you’re safest if something bad goes down.”
“And the computers? The server?”
“Information. It’s all just information. Bank accounts. Blackmailing. Satellite images. P.I. reports. Burial locations.”
“So this…this is what you have on people. All of the dirt you’ve gathered over the years. This is all leverage?”
“Yes.”
In the distant recesses of my mind, I recall Julio discussing some files Rebel was holding over him, which was why the guy drove across the state in the night to pick me up from Hector’s place: Rebel was bribing him.
I quit my investigating, leaning against the other desk, facing him. “Very valuable, I’m sure.”
“Yes.”
“And you showed me how to get in here. You’d trust me in here all by myself?”
He nods. “You think you’re a flight risk, Sophia, but you’re not. You’re as invested in me as I am in you.”
“I don’t think so.” I don’t know how invested in me he thinks he is, but regardless…I don’t want it to be true. Caring about this man will only get me killed; that much is obvious.
Rebel looks away, focusing on the wild, red text marking the wall by his head. He folds his arms across his chest. “You know why you resist me so much, Soph?” he whispers.
I narrow my eyes at him, trying not to let him see what I’m thinking. “Because you’re rude and arrogant, and you left me alone in a cabin for ten days?”
He smiles softly, allowing his gaze to fall to his feet. “Nope.”
“Oh no? Well, please enlighten me, then. Why do I resist you so much?”
“Because you’re in love with me, and you’re afraid.”
“What?” I consider picking up the large rock that’s being used as a paperweight on the desk next to me and chucking it right at his head. He is such an *. “You are dreaming, my friend,” I inform him.
“We’re not friends. We’re much, much more than that and you know it.”
“Jesus, you…you just have no shame, do you? Where do you get off saying stuff like this?”
“I find shame is usually a wasteful emotion. It occurs after an event or certain actions have taken place. There’s no sense in beating yourself up over something you can’t change or effect, right? I think you’re actually uncomfortable because I say what I think. I don’t sugar coat anything. And I’ve never been afraid to admit what I want, Sophia.” He rubs his fingers over the stubble on his jaw, piercing me with those blue eyes of his. “You, on the other hand… you’re afraid of admitting anything to anyone, ever. Must be exhausting.”
I don’t answer him. I don’t really know what to say. I want to be stubborn and hard with him, tell him he couldn’t be more wrong and he should keep his half-baked theories to himself, but I am so done. I don’t have the energy to fight or bicker with him. And besides, it’s becoming harder and harder to deny that what he’s saying isn’t actually the truth. Fuck him. Fuck him and his ability to see right through me. Rebel starts to laugh. “You don’t need to say a word, sugar. You know it’s true, and so do I. I can wait, though. If you ever feel like being honest with me, I’m ready to hear it.”