Rules of Protection(21)

He sat at the small table, still looking intently at his computer. I plopped into the chair across from him and admired the new brown do Agent Rawlings had given me in the mirror on the wall. The cut was perfect and, although I never thought I’d look good as a brunette, I loved it.

When I got bored with that, I flipped on the television. Sounds of a girl moaning blared from the television well before the black screen turned to a live color shot of a couple having sex. I tried to change the channel, but the button on the remote crushed inward and no longer worked. Frantically, I hit more buttons, including the one that turned the volume up. The man had a ginormous penis and pounded it into the poor girl while he slapped her rear end, making her scream like a…well, a porn star.

Jake looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

I smiled and shrugged my shoulders, but my face had to be as red as the girl’s ass. I banged the remote on the table, smashing my finger in the process. Jake shook his head with irritation, crossed the room, and hit the power button on the television. Why didn’t I think of that?

“We need to get on the road,” Jake said, packing up his computer.

Outside, a man stood near the room next to ours, smoking a cigarette. He made a lewd gesture with his tongue, then winked at me. I got into the Explorer and locked my door.

“Did you see that?”

Jake nodded. “Want me to shoot him?”

“No, but you could show him your gun.”

“Those walls are paper-thin. I’m sure that’s what he thought I was doing to you. Why do you think he needed a cigarette?”

I gave him a dirty look, but it was dark enough in the Explorer that Jake missed it. Good thing, since it meant he couldn’t see me blushing again.

“How did those men get inside the safe house?” I asked as we pulled out of the motel parking lot.

“Since the alarm didn’t go off, I assume they had the code.”

“How?”

“Someone must’ve given it to them, along with your location. Makes sense, otherwise, they wouldn’t have known where to find you.”

“Who, the agents who escorted us from the plane?”

“I’m not sure. I checked out their explosion story. They told the truth as far as I can tell.”

I twisted in my seat, trying to get comfortable, though my sore, achy back wouldn’t allow it. I made a small grunting sound as I shifted.

“Problem?” Jake asked.

“I can’t get comfortable. When I fell in the kitchen earlier, I hit my back on the counter and twisted my ankle. I feel like someone threw me down three flights of stairs.”

“So much for witness protection,” Jake said with a laugh. “You keep getting hurt. You even smashed your finger in the motel room. Any other injuries I need to know about?”

I didn’t tell him I almost shit my pants when he pointed the gun at me in the kitchen. That would’ve hurt, but only my pride. “I think that covers most of them.”

“Maybe I should ransom you off to Frankie Felts. You might stand a better chance of escaping injury with him than you have so far with me.”

He was kidding, but his words made my heart stop and my stomach churn with queasiness. The psychological implication of being abandoned weighed on me, making me wonder what would happen if Felts found me. Then I made the mistake of wondering how I’d die. Maybe I should’ve listened to Jake when he said I didn’t want to know how the other witnesses had died. I had pressed him to tell me, but now I regretted it.

My mind tapped into the residual memories of the past twenty-four hours, and the sharp crack of reality split me in two as vivid pictures flashed through my head. Sergio’s death replayed automatically, the images standing tall and casting a shadow over the more pleasant thoughts I conjured. Like him, I’d be dead. No gray area, just the black and white of it all. I’d been marked. Frankie Felts would do everything in his power to make sure I didn’t live much longer.

Then I made the mistake of imagining my cold, lifeless body lying in a cornfield. The image overwhelmed me, making me numb, as my eye twitched uncontrollably. I couldn’t take it anymore. My pulse raced, and my breathing deepened until my lungs stopped functioning properly. I hyperventilated in rapid succession until everything around me distorted.

I don’t remember Jake pulling the car over, but he must’ve. I stood on the side of the road, doubled over, as my chest convulsed with spasms. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t in between all of the sobs bubbling in my throat. Wracked with fear, I became practically inconsolable.

“Don’t panic,” Jake whispered, trying to soothe me as he rubbed his hand on my back. “Take deep breaths.”

It felt dreamlike, as if all of this had happened to someone else. I’d watched Oprah enough times to know the ugly cry wasn’t attractive on anybody. Yet, I was on the side of the road doing just that.

Jake stood close with his arm around my shoulders, wrapping me in comfort and security, as well as compensating for my unbalanced posture. I was a crumbling mess under his hands. He tried to smooth over my rough edges, a further distance than the wheels of responsibility should’ve taken him. It was bad enough he saddled himself with the impossible, foolhardy task of keeping me alive—something he’d barely been able to do.

“I…I’m fine,” I choked out, not wanting him to see me this way. “Leave me alone.”