You're all welcome.
I pull my room key out of my pocket as I walk down the dimly lit hallway to my room. A couple bags of snacks and groceries hanging from my arms.
I juggle keeping them from falling as I insert the key and shove the door open. I mutter curses under my breath as I drop a bag. I reach down and manage to pick it up once again without dropping any other bags. I kick the door shut behind me and lug everything into the small kitchen attached to the room.
I drop everything on the counters and then frown as I hear the sound of something metal hitting the tiled floor of the kitchen. I look down only to see a small cylindrical silver object. I frown as I pick it up and turn it over in my hands.
I freeze up as I finally grasp just what it is exactly. It's a bullet.
It's one of my bullets.
I look around quickly, trying to figure out where it came from, but seeing as the only light in the room is the one above the kitchen, I can't see anything but darkness and shadows in the rest of the room. I reach over and flip the light switch.
And then let out a startled scream.
I jump backward and my head hits the wall behind me. I drop the bullet in favor of holding my head, my fingers rubbing at the back of my skull. I wince and curse before turning my attention to the man sitting in the chair next to the desk.
His legs are crossed in front of him, his elbows rest on the arms of the chair, his fingers touching tip to tip in front of him, his mouth is a firm unsmiling line, and he's still wearing those damn sunglasses. His gun rests on the desk next to him along with a navy blue jacket with FBI written in yellow letters on it.
I don't have the words to speak. So, I just stare at him, waiting for him to make the first move or say the first word.
I want to ask him why he thought sitting in the dark like a creep was a good idea, but I figure that's not the best way to start out this conversation.
I notice the handcuffs hanging from his belt. I blow out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Well, he's here to arrest me. This ought to be fun.
I decide I'll be the first talk instead of him when he makes no move to say anything. "So . . ." I trail off, not sure what it is I want to say. I really want to ask him why he was sitting there in the dark with his sunglasses on, but I don't think that'll go over well.
"How'd you find me?" I ask instead. Not really the best question either. Mostly because I'm blatantly ignoring the figurative elephant in the room.
His eyebrows raise just barely and then he pushes himself out of the chair. "I don't think that should be your biggest concern right now." I can hear the barely contained anger behind his words.
I thought I had seen him angry before, but that's nothing compared to this. This is a quiet kind of angry. The kind of angry someone gets just before they're about to explode. It's not fun to be on the receiving end of.
I stare at him for a long moment. "I didn't want to lie to you," I finally say quietly.
He lowers his sunglasses enough to give me a look of utter disbelief. He then adjusts them back over his eyes.
I nod slowly. "Maybe originally I did," I tell him. "but then . . . I thought about telling you but I didn't think . . . you'd take it very well."
He scoffs loudly. "Wouldn't take it very well?" He questions in disbelief. "How would anyone take it? How would you take it if you found out that the person you're supposed to be protecting is the person you're also supposed to be hunting? One of the bad guys? I'm sure you're aware that the Nicolette Moore case is, in fact, my case. Damien and I are supposed to be working to bring you in." His jaw clenches. "Supposed to be bringing in the bad guys."
YOU ARE READING
I can't keep the smile off my face as I take my seat on the plane. I slide my bag under the seat and lean back. I close my eyes and let a blissful smile grace my face. He said I wouldn't be able to run. As if. I'm vaguely aware of someone taking the...