Protect Me

by Selma Wolfe

  “You really did map this place out. I don’t think even I would’ve known how to get here this fast,” Rick said in grudging admiration as Hope locked the door and ignored him, pulling out her cell phone.

  First order of business - police. Second - Trinity.

  No, wait. First order of business was Trinity, who had left three missed calls and a voicemail on her phone. Hope wanted to just call, but she shoved down the impulse and made herself listen to the voicemail first.

  “Where did you get that phone?” Rick asked. He sounded horrified. “That’s not the one I gave you. That one is from the stone age. Cavemen would be embarrassed to carry that thing.”

  “It’s mine and I like it,” Hope informed him just before the recording started.

  “Hey there honey, just wanted to let you know I set the blasted fire alarm off. I wanted to try out these biscuits - oh, well, you don’t need to know that, I suppose. Anyway, don’t work yourself into a tizzy over it. Everything’s fine!”

  “What did she say? What did she say?” Hope ignored him and moved to the control panel, flicking on screens.

  Sure enough, the kitchen view showed a bunch of smoke issuing from the oven and a harassed-looking Trinity opening windows and flapping a towel at the dark smog. As she watched, Trinity opened the last big window, and the alarm finally stopped.

  Hope heaved a sigh of relief. She checked all of the screens, just to be sure, but there was no activity on any of the rest.

  “Sorry, what were you saying?”

  She turned just in time to see Rick disappearing through the panic room door.

  After a moment of hesitation Hope turned everything off and headed for the door. She stepped through it and pulled it carefully closed just in time to see Rick jogging around the corner.

  The internal debate was short-lived.

  Hope had learned a long time ago how to move quietly, and stealth was barely necessary even at a run on these plush carpets.

  One of the most common client complaints was feeling smothered by their protection. In a world of tell-alls and leaks to TMZ, it made sense that clients demanded a degree of privacy. Generally, the common wisdom was to give your client as much space as possible. If it wouldn’t affect the mission, then you didn’t push.

  It had never to Hope’s knowledge been recommended to sneak after your client to find out his secrets.

  Rick was moving fast, at a flat-out run now. But he was untrained; his run was less efficient than Hope’s jog and he didn’t know how to be truly quiet. So she followed him through the halls and into the west wing with little effort.

  As she suspected, his footsteps drew to a halt just outside his bedroom.

  From around the corner Hope heard Rick swear quietly and fumble at the lock. Then there was the click of the door closing, and the snick of it locking behind him.

  She moved immediately to her door and opened it silently. On tip-toes she moved across the room and listened at their shared door. Hope fingered the key ring in her pocket.

  There was a long, low creak from the other side of the door. Hope glanced automatically at the entrance to her bedroom, but no, there were no footsteps near it. A third door? She dropped to the floor and stared underneath. All she could see was a rush of shadow before there was another creak and a slam, and the solid line of light under the door restored.

  A trap door?

  Hope pulled out the ring of keys and stared up at the doorknob. She was almost certain this wasn’t illegal, but it was almost certainly amoral, even if it was for Rick’s own good. It might even be enough to get her fired from the case.

  But Hope believed firmly in doing whatever she had to in order to best protect her client. It made her a pain in the ass (she was informed of this on a fairly regular basis), but it also made her very good at her job.

  Besides which, she found herself caring a lot - caring too much - about the dark haired man with the easy smile and baffling interest in her.

  Decision made before she’d truly debated it, Hope slid the key into the lock and twisted.

  If she’d had any expectations about Rick’s bedroom, they were thwarted. The room was relatively bare, just a cluttered desk, a bed with nondescript black sheets, and an overly large closet. Hope trailed her fingers over the edge of the bed sheet; it was no softer than her own.

  The only thing to distinguish the room from any other one in the mansion was the trapdoor in the closet. It took Hope a couple minutes to find it, but maybe the trip to the library had jogged something in her memory, because she remembered Narnia and crawled underneath a rack of coats. The sensitive pads of her fingers found a subtle break in the wood that was easily pried up with a slip of leather cleverly designed to look as if it had accidentally dropped from the garments overhead.

  When she tugged up the trapdoor she managed to keep the noise to a minimum. Mostly by pulling it up painfully slowly. Patience was a virtue, if a boring one.

  She peered down. There appeared to be a short flight of stairs that led to a dimly lit tunnel. Hope grabbed the edges of the trapdoor and swung her whole upper body down to take a look.

  Yep, a tunnel. One that looked quite old and hewn into the rock underneath the house. It would be tricky to avoid echoes in there. Thankfully the tunnel appeared to be quite short, since Hope could see bright light emanating from the end of it.

  Only one way to find out what Rick was doing in there.

  She really hoped this wasn’t some sort of secret sex dungeon, or things were about to get real awkward.

  Ignoring the ladder entirely, Hope lowered herself into the tunnel and dropped cat-like onto her feet. Her right food caught an edge of rock and she stumbled, but managed to right herself. She flattened her body against the side of the tunnel, but there was no noise from the end of it, and no movement. After waiting a second she moved forward cautiously.

  As she drew closer to the end of the tunnel Hope saw that there was a veil of plastic sheeting acting as a door between her and whatever was on the other side. She paused in front of it and listened, but could hear nothing except faint beeping on the other side, which told her nothing. Machinery of some sort, but that could mean a number of things, from life support to video games.

  It was impossible to see through the filmy plastic. Hope swallowed a sigh. In one fluid movement she tore the sheet aside and stepped through. If her only advantage was surprise, she would take it.

  Bright light assaulted her eyes and she dodged to one side, blinking past dark blotches.

  When her vision cleared, Hope saw that she was standing alone at the front of a… laboratory?

  Partitioned off with glass walls was a vast array of equipment positioned on and around shining metal counters. Even when she peered at the beeping boxes and blender-looking things, Hope couldn’t make out what they might be used for. Nothing looked very familiar except the petri dishes stacked on the large metal table in the center of the room.

  Hope crouched down on her haunches, taking herself a little further out of easy view, though in a glass room it wasn’t likely to be of much use if anyone was really looking.

  She was trying to decide whether to move forward or back when Rick walked in.

  The glass doors twisted off into a hallway at the back that acted like a mirror maze, so Hope was surprised when he strode through the door wearing a lab coat and carrying… samples? He had something horribly flesh-colored in what looked like a large square petri dish. She craned her neck, trying to get a better view.

  Rick set the sample down on the table and moved toward the row of machines. He flicked switches and tapped buttons with practiced ease. Hope stared at him, her mind running a thousand miles a minute.

  She didn’t think that he was stupid anymore, not really. The papers Rick studied in the morning hadn’t escaped her notice, and it would make little sense for a shallow man to find reading sexy.

  But that didn’t mean he was a genius, and Hope didn’t know nearly enough about… whatever
this was… to determine whether Rick’s invention was a reality or whether he was a dabbler who was just fooling himself, obsessed with strange experiments in an underground lab.

  The hairs on the back of her neck stood up at the thought of it. Did she trust Rick enough to assume the best? Did she trust him at all?

  Machines beeped and whirred in front of her as Rick turned his back to punch a code into a large keyboard. Hope’s muscles tensed. This was the time to run, if she wanted to. She could work around this; do her best to protect Rick without insisting on knowing every single important detail.

  Rick turned his head to glance at a screen projected to his left, exposing his profile. His usually carefree expression was creased in concentration, and his lips were set in a straight, determined line.

  Something settled in Hope’s gut, deep inside where she drew her instincts from. This unfamiliar expression still looked like Rick, even without his normal easy smiles. Hope liked those smiles. She liked the Rick that she knew enough to want to know this more serious Rick, too.

  Hope waited until Rick drew his hands away from his machinery. Then slowly she stood up and walked forward just past the entrance to the glass room. She stayed silent, letting her footsteps announce her presence.

  She saw the instant that Rick became aware of her. His shoulders snapped into a straight line and he tensed, shoving one hand into his coat pocket. He whirled around and stared at her. Those same brown eyes that were usually alight with curiosity and good humor were blazing with an intensity almost like protectiveness. Of what? His laboratory?

  When he saw that it was just Hope, Rick's eyes went wide and then narrowed.

  "I gave you that key so you'd feel comfortable, not so you could sneak into places you weren't invited," he said after it became clear that Hope was going to wait for him to speak. The ice in his voice should have been no surprise, but it was, somehow. Hope knew that she'd grown too used to his gentle words and kind looks. Neither of them could afford that.

  "I'm sorry," she said, and she was, a little. "But I need all the details if I'm going to do my job correctly. If you're trying to run off here every time there's a threat, then it's relevant. Too relevant for me to ignore."

  Rick set his jaw and out of the corner of her eye Hope noticed his hands clenching into fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white. He bit his lip, not like he was nervous, but like he was biting back words best left unsaid. His eyes were hard - more like impenetrable tar than the soft brown she’d become accustomed to seeing trained on her.

  She found herself studying Rick’s face, memorizing it. It was already too late for her to see what Rick looked like when he was happy. But it didn’t matter. The memory of his smile seemed to be burned onto the inside of her brain.

  This was what Rick looked like when he hated her, when he wished she was gone. Hope made herself commit it to memory. This was what she needed to remember. Things were better this way. This was safer.

  “We don’t have to drag this out,” Hope said quietly. “Tell me what I need to know and I’ll get out of your hair. The invention you mentioned in your file. Is it - what is it?”

  The coolness on Rick’s face didn’t fade, but he relaxed fractionally. His shoulders slumped and he stuck both hands into the pockets of his lab coat. He barked out a bitter laugh that sounded strange coming from his mouth and turned away from Hope to face the counter.

  “I know, you think I’m a liar. That’s the beauty of it, really. If I’m just some idiot then the trustees leave me alone and I can do heavy lifting for R&D in peace.”

  Nothing he’d said was really wrong – or particularly comprehensible – so Hope simply asked, “R&D?”

  Rick squared his shoulders and glanced at her with a kind of obstinate pride. “Research and Development. Stone Industries has the most advanced scientific technology in the world. We fund - ”

  Hope held up a hand. “Right, okay, I’m not looking to drink the company Kool-Aid. I just need to know what this particular thing is, why somebody else would want it, and why we can’t fob it off on somebody else instead.”

  His forehead crumpled in a frown. He looked almost disappointed, like a child cut off in the middle of a passionate explanation of something important. For a moment Hope felt guilty.

  Then Rick was moving purposefully toward the counter. His body language was cool, his shoulders angled away from Hope. But when he picked up a test tube off the counter and looked at her again, his face was set, his jaw hard and lines creased around his eyes, making him look unexpectedly determined.

  “Do you trust me?” Rick asked. His tone was almost brusque; a far cry from the gentle murmurs in the library. His eyes were shielded and suspicious. He held out a hand. It hovered between them and he stared at her mockingly. Hope knew without having to ask that this was a test. There was one shot at this.

  And how lost she already must be, because in spite of everything, she didn’t want to fail it.

  With her eyes on the test tube in his hand, Hope slowly stretched out her arm toward Rick.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  His expression went blank with shock and his fingers didn’t even grip her wrist when she set it against his palm. She pushed a little, reminding him.

  “What… are you crazy?” Rick managed to ask, emotions flitting across his face too quickly to track - shock, awe, fear, and others she didn’t bother to catalogue.

  Hope shrugged and flashed him a quick, wry grin. It was probably a bad sign that she felt more alive, more interested than she had in ages. This odd, fascinating man was standing with her, staring with his mouth open in horror, his palm a gentle warmth against her skin, and she was about to do something crazily stupid. She felt reckless and invincible, and ready to test that theory.

  “My life’s my own,” she said. “You asked me to trust you. I am.”

  Rick pulled his hand out from underneath her so fast it almost burned. He placed the test tube gently into a container on the counter and when his hands were free, he slammed the heels of his hands into the edge of the counter, dipping his head low for a second.

  “Jesus Christ,” he said in a low voice. “And I thought you were supposed to be the sensible one. Please tell me you don’t just let mad scientists experiment - you aren’t this careless - please tell me this whole suicidal thing is a recent phenomenon.”

  That small smile was still tugging at the corners of her lips. Hope moved closer, crowding up to Rick like they were partners at a lab table. She aligned their shoulders and hips into a long line of mingled heat but forbore actually touching him.

  “Don’t ask me for things you don’t actually want,” she said. Rick tilted his face toward her without actually looking at her. Adrenaline sharpened her vision: Hope realized now that she wanted to take advantage of his distraction to study the curve of his neck and the way his collarbone angled out from underneath his open collar. She traced her gaze up and down his face, seeing the indecision and distrust that was usually safely masked by his startling attractiveness.

  Rick gritted his teeth and continued to stare at the test tube on the counter in front of him like it would give him the answers he needed.

  “All I wanted was for you to stay in the library. I didn’t want to get you involved. I just needed… insurance. That’s all. In case anything really bad happened, I’d have enough time to destroy my work, or if it came down to it - ” He pulled up short and blinked.

  The surety of her blissful adrenaline buzz slipped; Hope gaped at him.

  “Sorry, but am I - was I supposed to be…. Your insurance suicide policy?” she demanded. When Rick didn’t answer, she felt a layer of ice settle somewhere deep in the pit of her stomach. “That is - that is so beyond - you can’t actually do that to people.”

  At that, Rick reared back from the counter and glared at her, turning the full force of his dark eyes on her. Hope wished he looked like a mad scientist. He looked more like a tragic Byronic hero, even now.

  “Why not?
If it’s necessary.”

  Hope’s fingernails bit into her palms. She shouldn’t have taken the bait but she found herself turning to meet him dead on. She felt like throwing things, a wild and loose-limbed feeling that was unfamiliar and uncomfortable.

  “Because that’s not my job. You can’t just use people, no matter how much money you have. I am here to protect you, not to be manipulated into living with your death on my conscience.” She hadn’t meant to sound so impassioned; she hadn’t meant for her voice to shake, or almost break at the end there.

  But it was so, so hard to have that realization of Rick’s selfishness slamming home like a puzzle slotting together in her head. Hope had been in combat zones so dangerous that Navy S.E.A.L.S. clucked in sympathy over her resume, but she still had trouble accepting this. She couldn’t just pretend that Rick’s words were empty. She knew what it felt like to see the reality of loose-limbed bodies sprawled over the ground, going cold.

  She could see Rick standing in front of her, and she knew exactly what it would look like if he could force Hope into killing him. Just because she’d seen it before didn’t mean it was easier. It meant it was real to her; it meant that she understood it in a way Rick didn’t, couldn’t.

  Hope stared openly at the stubble on Rick’s face, at the dark hair hanging over his eyes that needed to be trimmed, at his white knuckles, at his defensive posture. She thought about none of that existing anymore.

  She wanted to throw up, and didn’t feel the least bit of shame, just an overwhelming sadness.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Rick’s expression was caught somewhere between anger and guilt.

  It took a moment of biting down on her tongue before Hope could trust herself to answer.

  “Because you don’t understand what you’re asking.” She paused. “And because I do.”

  Unexpectedly Rick’s face softened and he took a step forward, not close enough that Hope wanted to move away, but close enough that she could see her own broken expression mirrored in his eyes.