False Pretenses

Part 6

Chapter 5

The bath was uneventful, something I was happy about, and so was my falling asleep.  The thing I wasn’t too happy about was waking up with another person in my bed.  Opening my eyes, I sent a silent prayer that the person next to me wouldn’t be any of the men that I’ve met in the past day.  I didn’t want the gardener, doorman, or the stepbrother to be next to me.  Opening my eyes, I saw his dark curly hair before anything else.

The only thing was that he was a couple feet too short to be any of the men I had thought of.  Rising to my elbow, I smiled.  The little boy was cute, that was a fact, and if I didn’t know he was adopted, I wouldn’t have a clue that he didn’t belong to the couple living in this house.  One thing that I was happy about was the atrocious nightgown I decided to wear last night.  It was this or the revealing things Dorothy had to have worn, I chose this. 

Reaching down, I touched the boy’s shoulder, waking him.  His eyes snapped open, looking at me in shock, and then fright.  Rolling off the bed, he jumped to his feet, tears filling his eyes.  “Please don’t hurt me,” he whispered.

Anger flew through me.  If Dorothy had laid one hand on this boy, Mitch wouldn’t have to worry about someone else killing her, I would do the honor.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said, smiling at him as I tried to get passed my anger.  Showing anger to this boy would do nothing but make the situation worse.

He took another step back.  “You usually don’t wake up until later,” he mumbled.  “I leave before you wake up, and sometimes, I just sleep on the floor just in case you do wake up.”

“What do you mean?  Why do you sleep on the floor?”  When the kid didn’t answer, I thought back to my childhood.  What I went through, what the other children and foster parents would do to you if you let your guard down.  “The nightmares?”   I guessed.

His eyes widened as he nodded at me. “How do you know?”

I shrugged, not willing to tell him my life story. The kid had enough on his plate; he didn’t need the added worry of my life on his shoulders.  “I’ll make you a deal, Kyle.”

“What’s that?” he asked, shifting on his feet in an uncomfortable way.

“There’s a couch in the other room.  I’ll drag it in here today, and when you’re scared, wake me up.  I’ll sleep on the couch, and you can have the bed.”

He shook his head.  “I can sleep on the couch.”  He paused, as if he were searching for his next words.  As soon as I nodded, he let out a breath.  “Why are you being so nice to me?” he blurted, eyes darting away as soon as the words left his mouth.

“What are big sisters for?” I mumbled, wishing I could have been mean to the boy that reminded me so much of myself.  “Now go get dressed for breakfast.  Hopefully, this time, I won’t drink your milk.”

A small chuckle escaped his lips as he darted out of the room.  Flopping back onto the bed, I covered my eyes with my arm.  Third screw up on the job; I had related to the child, treated him, as I would have wanted to be treated when I was his age.  It was something that would hurt us both in the end.  He would never be able to understand why Dorothy changed the way she treated him once I was gone. 

Moving my arm, I sat up, ready to face the day, ready to fight whatever obstacles would get in my way.  As I stood on my feet, I absentmindedly threw the clothes from my body before replacing them with clothing that is more acceptable.  Walking to the bathroom, I brushed my teeth and hair before thinking of the tattoo on the doorman’s wrist.  I hadn’t given enough information on the tattoo for Mitch to identify right away.  He was running it through the database, but the only thing that would do was give me a list of whom it could be; it wouldn’t give me the exact person.

I couldn’t go on the man’s appearance. Very few of the agents working for Mitch kept their identity.  At any given time, they would cut their hair, wear contacts; some would even go as far as getting plastic surgery in order to become unknown to others.

Stepping out of the bathroom, something cold slicked across my neck.  Without looking to my left, I knew who the man would be. 

“Who are you?” he whispered in my ear.

“Dorothy Herring.”

The knife dug further into my neck, but wasn’t enough to break skin.  “Where is she really, and who are you?”

“I am Dorothy Herring,” I said again, “and once I tell my father what you have done, you will wish that you were never born.”

He faltered, doubting himself; it was the moment I had been waiting for.  Bring my hand up; I twisted the knife towards his thumb, making his grip loosen completely.  The knife slid from his grip to mine, and a smile flew onto my face.  Sure, I had given myself away, but it was worth seeing the shocked expression on his face.

“A knife, really?” I asked, flipping it to where he was the one against the wall, not me.  The knife dug into his throat, but I pushed hard enough to see blood.  I wanted to make it clear to him that I did not just threaten; I followed through.

“A gun is too messy,” he said, a blank expression on his face. 

I ran it down his throat, swiping at the collar of his shirt.  “No emotions.  You’re good. Tell me,” I purred, sliding it back up his throat and towards his ear, caressing his face with the tip, “who do you work for?”

“If you think I’ll tell you, you aren’t as smart as I thought you were.”

“You think I’m smart?”  I smiled at the compliment before moving the knife from his face.  Throwing it behind me, I heard it imbed into the wall behind me. 

He stared at me for a moment, unsure of what he should do, while I shrugged and took a step back.  “Why’d you do that?”

“Let me see your wrist.”  The demand was softened my smile.  Kill with sweetness because if you are harsh, no one will believe you when you try to be nice.  If you are nice, they will take notice when you finally have to be harsh.

Rolling his sleeve up, he smiled when nothing came into view.  Looking up at him through my eyelashes, I chuckled.  “You used my advice.”  I rested my hand on his shoulder before slowly bringing it down his arm until my thumb touched the vein on his wrist.  As I swiped my thumb across the concealer, I could feel him freeze, ready to pull away.  “Come on,” I said, smiling up at him while taking a step forward to crowd his personal space, “you show me yours, and I’ll show you mine.”

His hand snatched back as he shook his head as if to clear it.  “No can do, but no that I know who you are,” his smile widened, “I won’t have to kill you.”

Leaning forward, I stood on my toes in order to press my lips lightly to his ear.  “Like you could,” I whispered before turning and walking away.  As I walked away, I could hear him flop back onto the wall, making a genuine smile cross my face.  My job just got a little more entertaining.