by C. Luca
It’s ironic.
Two days ago, I wouldn’t touch a credit card, but now I have no choice. Any of my own cash that I’d had at the apartment is gone, and if I want clothes, personal hygiene products, or food to eat—I need to use the card.
I’d sent an order to the nearest grocery store, and I charged clothing and personal necessities on the card. And, since the loft is so hot without central air, I had ordered a couple of fans—one for the bedroom, and another as a backup. Even Kane isn’t immune to the heat, although it doesn’t seem to bother him.
He must have someone he trusts delivering the items I order. The first day, after receiving a text, he’d called the elevator up to the loft and retrieved our groceries that had been neatly deposited inside. The second day, my purchases arrived in the same manner.
The third day, I am finding myself going a little stir crazy. I’m not accustomed to not working or going out when I please—not that I was ever a social butterfly—but at least the option was always there.
Most of the time, Kane is glued to his computers. While he keeps himself busy, I either make something to eat or entertain myself online using the fourth laptop that has become mine.
My stomach grumbles lowly, and I close the laptop. For most of the morning and afternoon, I’ve been sitting on the bed with the laptop. Nearby, I’ve had the fan situated to pleasantly propel a breeze towards me.
I’m bored already with the computer, and I’m hungry.
I ease off the bed and turn off the fan, instantly missing the constant breeze. My hair is pulled up into a high, messy knot, and I’m wearing a loose tank top and leggings. Because the spiral stairs are hard on my calf and knee, I gingerly make my way down them.
Kane is taking a break from the computers and standing by the kitchen window, smoking. He’s wearing his usual attire, jeans and a simple tee. And damned if he doesn’t wear them well.
Kane doesn’t bother looking my way as I walk to one of the cupboards and pull out a large jar of peanut butter. Then, I open one of the utensil drawers to reach for a plastic spoon. I thought it best to buy plastic since I have no idea how long we’ll be here.
I glance at Kane.
I haven’t made an effort to begin any conversations with him or inquire about my situation. I wanted to give him time to cool down after the mess I’d made of things, but now the silence is getting to me.
Leaning my hip against the counter, I unscrew the peanut butter lid and dip the plastic spoon inside as I deliberately clear my throat.
Kane’s eyes automatically slide my way.
“Were there more people sent after me in Salt Lake City?” I ask, keeping my tone light.
His expression remains hard to read. “Probably.” He takes a long draw on the cigarette, blowing smoke up towards the window so that it doesn’t drift towards my direction.
“None of them have been caught?”
He appears disinterested in our conversation, but yet his hazel eyes remain focused on me. “Not yet.”
I wait to see if he’ll elaborate, but he doesn’t. “You can’t stay mad at me forever,” I say, deciding to confront him over his attitude towards me.
His brows lift as if saying, Can’t I?
I release a sigh and set aside the jar and spoon. “I’m not going to forget I screwed up, you know. You don’t have to remind me daily, because I lived it. I know how serious this all is.”
He remains silent, simply watching me with unreadable eyes as he brings the cigarette back to his lips.
“I won’t break the rules,” I insist.
This earns me a look. “Right now, there is no starting over, you get that, right? You started something that has to be finished before I can even consider trying to hide you—which might be impossible due to your leg,” he says bluntly.
Instead of continuing a conversation that we’ve already had, I calmly turn around and put away the peanut butter, throwing away the spoon in the nearby garbage.
Then, I walk away, trying not to limp as much as I typically do as my mood darkens.
All my life my leg has been an issue, I’m always aware of it. So is everyone else. I try not to let it get me down, but when it’s constant, it’s hard not to let it bother me.
I know Kane isn’t doing it to be an ass—at least I don’t think so. From what I’ve gathered so far, he’s simply honest—brutally so.
I’m trying to remain positive about the situation, but as the days go by, I feel like it’s a losing battle. Not just because of Kane’s attitude, but because the loft feels very much like a prison.
* * *
The following day feels worse than the one before.
Sleeping was difficult, and due to the stairs being so hard on my bad leg, eating or using the bathroom has become a tedious journey each time I navigate the stairs.
My leg aches twenty-four/seven now, but I’m trying to hide it. I already look weak; I don’t need to act it too.
I’ve been sitting on the bed for the past few hours, the fan blowing comfortably my way as I watch Netflix on the laptop. However, the loft’s air feels thick from the humidity outside, and I feel like I can’t naturally draw in a deep breath.
I glance down into the main room.
It’s late morning, and as usual, Kane is sitting on the sofa focused on his computers.
While I’m going stir crazy, he’s as calm as can be. Apparently, he’s content to spend hours sitting in front of those screens. His unwavering concentration is almost unsettling. He doesn’t seem the slightest bit perturbed that we haven’t gone outside in four days.
If I don’t feel the sun on my face soon or breathe in fresh air, I think I might just go insane. I’m also beginning to realize that I actually miss my old life. Yes, I was constantly paranoid, but I wasn’t confined inside four walls all day and night. I could come and go as I pleased.
My life was lonely as hell, but at least I had a life.
This isn’t living.
I wish I could go back in time and change things, but then I wouldn’t have known just how serious my situation was…or is.
Oh, hell.
I rub my face. I need to stop looking back and focus on moving forward.
I’m also extremely thirsty.
Gingerly, I ease off the bed, tendrils of hair sticking to my forehead as I make my way down the stairs, trembling slightly. I should probably be drinking more water in this heat.
As usual, Kane ignores me as I limp to the kitchen. I fill a cup of water and drink it, but I still don’t feel that great. I refill the cup and take a few more sips.
When I move towards the open kitchen window to feel a hint of fresh air from above, the room swims before me. The cup falls to the floor while I manage to grip the counter to remain upright, but not before my good knee slams into the cupboard as I try to maintain my balance.
The sound must’ve drawn Kane’s attention, because he’s at my side in an instant. “What’s wrong?”
My heart is racing, and I try to draw in a lungful of air, but I can’t. Instead, all I can do is pant.
“Tessa,” Kane says sharply.
I close my eyes, trying to remain calm as my fingers dig into the edge of the countertop. “It feels like the walls are closing in, and I can’t breathe,” I gasp.
Next thing I know, Kane is swinging me up into his arms, and I automatically clutch his strong shoulders as my eyes pop open with surprise. He strides to the elevator, and during the short descent to the ground floor, he says nothing. If I weren’t feeling so crummy, I’d probably appreciate having such an attractive guy hold me, but instead, I am still struggling for air.
As soon as Kane manages to open the elevator doors using only one hand—which is quite impressive, he steadily walks across the empty, ground floor. We pass by the SUV, and then he opens the large, bay door.
The moment he steps outside, I draw in as much air as I can and tilt my head to the sun, closing my eyes. Kane kneels down to set me on the ground next to the
building, and I release his shoulders as I focus on deeply inhaling.
I sense him remaining beside me, patiently waiting to see if my breathing improves.
It’s hot outside, and the asphalt beneath my butt is burning hot, but I’m already beginning to feel much calmer.
“Better?” Kane asks, his rumbly voice still quite close.
My eyes open, and I find him squatting in front of me with a deep-set frown on his face.
I nod.
“You’re claustrophobic?” he questions, his eyes fixated on mine.
“No…at least I don’t think so. But being in the loft without fresh air…” I grimace inwardly, feeling as if I’m once again being bothersome.
Kane runs a hand over his face, remaining silent.
I’m quiet as well, simply inhaling the fresh air and enjoying the fact that I can now draw in a full breath. I hate that this even happened, but I know the fresh air is precious and to savor it, because all too soon, we’ll be back inside.
Kane looks around, the skin tensing around his eyes. “We can’t stay out here.”
My face immediately falls. I knew that, but I was hoping for more time. Even a minute longer.
Kane must read my expression. “The loft is temporary,” he reminds. Then he adds, “The longest we’ll be here is six weeks.”
“Six weeks?” I echo, trying not to sound as discouraged as I’m feeling. Six weeks sounds like forever right about now.
“Let’s go back in, and we’ll discuss the situation.”
As much as I don’t want to go back into the loft, I am interested to hear what else he has to say, and that gives me something to focus on besides the heat. This is the first time he’s offered to have a real conversation with me, and I see that as progress between us.
I nod, and he helps me rise to my feet, his hand warm but pleasantly dry in mine. Of course, mine’s damp, just like my face, neck and breasts. Ugh. I am a sweaty mess.
Back inside the loft, Kane nods to the sofa, and I sit down on the end. He quickly retrieves the extra fan we keep for the main room, and he situates it so that it’s blowing gently towards me.
“Good?” he asks gruffly but with a hint of what could be kindness.
“Thank you,” I say gratefully.
He sits down about two feet from me and closes all the laptops. Then, he turns his body somewhat in my direction so that he can face me, resting his elbows casually on his knees as he gazes at me. “The plan is to wait here for six weeks. If no one makes a move against us during that time, it’ll be safe to assume we weren’t followed. Then we can begin sorting out a new cover for you,” he explains.
“There’s always going to be a threat, isn’t there?” I ask with a trace of resignation.
Kane nods in agreement. “With your situation, most of the threats are back in Columbia. However, we need to eliminate any here on U.S. soil. We can’t safely set you up with a new life if we can’t be one hundred percent certain no one’s still out there tracking you. We’ve hidden you this long, because they’re there, and you’re here. As long as no one is in the U.S. we can make you disappear. That means we need to eliminate those sent for you.”
My brows pucker with an unhappy frown. “So, we’re just waiting? Like baiting them?”
Kane grimaces. “Not necessarily baiting, but the sooner we take them out, the better.”
“What happens if they find us here?”
“There are always eyes on the building. We’ll have fair warning,” he assures.
“And then what?” I press, not liking the plan one bit.
“Then we let my men take them out while I take you to a different location here in Phoenix,” he says simply.
I’m quiet as I think about the term he keeps using. My men. Authority radiates off him, so it’s likely that he’s pretty high up in the hierarchy of the company that’s protecting me.
A wrinkle forms between my eyebrows as I think of more questions. “If it’s important to get rid of the people sent after me, why fly here to Phoenix? Why not stay in Salt Lake?”
He adjusts his watch on his wrist as he patiently answers my questions. “Because Salt Lake was a shit show that I wasn’t prepared for. Phoenix had already been chosen for you, and one of my men happens to be very familiar with the area. It’s also larger, and here, we have the upper hand.”
I’m not an idiot. Kane is counting on eliminating the people coming for me, and the only way to do that is to guarantee they come for me. My eyes narrow suspiciously. “You left them a trail to follow, didn’t you?”
He doesn’t deny it as his eyes remain on mine. “When they make a move, my men will take them out—hopefully all of them.”
I’m unsettled being the bait, but I get it. It’s not an ideal situation, but I’m the one who put myself here in the first place. “How many people do you have working with you?” I ask curiously, hoping to learn more about the company and the people protecting me.
“Two.” His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out.
I know this is the end of our conversation, and I rise to my feet. “Thanks, Kane,” I say softly before heading back upstairs so he can focus on his job.
Seven
Kane
I glance towards the upper-level of the loft as I hear Tessa shifting on the mattress in her sleep. I’ve noticed that she’s a very restless sleeper—likely because of her leg.
She seems to be having a lot of issues with it lately even though she tries to hide it. I regret that the loft has the spiral staircase, but there’s nothing I can do about it. We can’t move locations simply for comfort.
My body has become stiff, and I lean back on the sofa and stretch my arms over my head. It’s late, and I should probably call it a night. Not to mention my eyes are dry from staring at the computer screens for so long. A few hours of sleep would be wise so that I am alert tomorrow, and it would give my eyes a chance to rest.
As I begin shutting down all three laptops, I think back to earlier when Tessa had her issue with claustrophobia or anxiety. I’m not sure if it was the heat or the atmosphere that set her off. Hell, it could possibly be a reaction to everything that has happened lately as well.
I’ve been very focused on work, but I have also been aware of every move Tessa makes, even if it seems that I’m not. The moment I’d heard the glass drop and her leg hit the cupboard, I knew something was wrong.
Seeing her clutching the counter and trying to stay on her feet had caused a moment of alarm to sweep throughout me. I’d immediately rushed to her side, and it was at that point that I realized I couldn’t continue ‘ignoring’ her.
She’s not the only one struggling to adjust to this new situation.
It’s been unsettling to go from watching her from afar to suddenly living under the same roof with her. For years, I’ve been obsessing over her, and now I’m in a very dangerous position. I like to think of myself as a sane—mature man. But I should know better than to be lusting after someone so young.
So not only have I been avoiding her for that reason, but also because I’m fucking pissed at her, and at myself. If those Columbians that are after her didn’t need her alive, she’d be dead, and I wouldn’t have been able to prevent it from happening in time.
With as restless as she’s been this past year, I should have seen her defiance coming. Instead, I’d grown lax with the assumption that she knew better. What happened in that apartment was partly my fault.
Tessa stirs upstairs once more, and I glance moodily in her direction.
One foolish mistake on her part had nearly cost her demise.
Now, I have to make certain she’s safe before I can hide her again—which is going to be difficult due to her limp. That’s not something we can hide.
For years she’s been safe, and now all that has gone to shit.
I rub my face.
Then, today happened.
Once more, I was blind to her feelings and what she must be going through. I need to i
gnore my shit and be in more tune with what’s happening with her. There’s going to have to be some changes around here without me becoming too involved.
Shit.
I think that’s going to be a hell of a lot harder than it should be.
Eight
Tessa
The following morning, I’m determined to be optimistic about the upcoming day. Yesterday’s conversation with Kane had helped put some things into perspective. Plus, knowing more about the situation and what will happen if we’re found by the bad guys has me feeling more involved in…well, everything.
Not that I’m thrilled with the entire bait thing, but at least I’m not wandering around anymore with no idea about what will happen next. It was troubling having Kane mad at me, and not knowing anything about what was going on certainly hadn’t helped matters.
I also decide to begin the day with a cool shower to combat the day’s inevitable heat. Yesterday’s incident was quite embarrassing, and I’d like to avoid a repeat.
As expected, Kane is occupied with his computers, so after my shower, I quietly make my way to the kitchen and choose a banana for my breakfast. Instead of making use of one of the stools at the island, I lean my hip against the counter to take the weight off my bad leg.
My knee becomes stiff at night, so it always aches worse upon waking. Most mornings, I need to loosen it with some walking, but then in the evenings, my knee and calf ache from overuse. I can’t seem to find a balance between the two.
While I eat the banana, I study Kane.
His brows are furrowing while his fingers fly across one of the laptop’s keyboards. Something has certainly caught his attention, and from the looks of it, not anything good.
There’s a lot of questions that I’d still like to ask, but yesterday was so nice… I don’t want to ruin the pleasant atmosphere now that the tension has eased. Plus, whatever is causing that frown on his face warns me that his mood may not be all that welcoming this morning.