Chapter 16
Ryder
I hear the sound of her phone thudding on the floor, and I turn around. “El? What’s wrong?” I ask, but she doesn’t acknowledge it. “El?” I repeat. It’s like she can’t hear me. She backs into the wall and slides down to the floor. I rush in front of her, crouching down and cupping her face in my hands. “El, baby. What’s wrong” She doesn’t respond and just stares at me, hyperventilating, and I can see the utter fear in her eyes.
“You’re going to be okay.” I scoop her up as I sit down on the floor, pulling her into my lap. I wrap my arms around her tightly and hold her against me. “Baby, I need you to breathe for me.” I insist.
Fuck, I need her to hear me. I put her head against my chest, taking deep breaths. Maybe if she feels my breathing or hears my heartbeat, she can regulate hers. “I-I c-can’t-” She says, barely audible through her heavy breathing. I lift her chin with my finger, making her look me in the eyes. “You can. You can do this. Breathe with me.” I deeply inhale and exhale, trying to get her to do the same. “In. Out. In. Out.” I reply. After a moment, she obliges, trying to imitate my breathing. “Focus on my breathing. Listen to my heartbeat.” I add.
After a few minutes, her breathing regulates, but I keep her close to my chest still, gently rocking back and forth. I don’t know everything that was said on the other side of the line, but I’m sure as shit not asking about it right now. Seeing how scared she was terrified me. I never want to see that look on her face ever again, if I can help it.
“How did you know?” She mutters against my chest. “Know what?” I ask. “How to calm me down. How did you know?” She explains. “A buddy of mine in the military had panic attacks. I helped him through a few.” I say, placing a kiss on the top of her head. We sit on the floor in silence for a little while, my arms not moving from her body for even a second. She’ll tell me what’s going on when she is able, and I’ll keep holding her until she pulls away.
“They’re coming to arrest me.” The words come out of her mouth at a mix of a whisper and a mumble, and I barely hear her. “What?” I ask. Her head remains against my chest as she keeps looking forward. “They’re coming to arrest me. I’m wanted for espionage and m-murder.” She repeats. I’m completely dumbfounded. There must be a mistake.
“Whose murder? Bardot’s? And what about espionage? Did Hartwell tell you this?” She nods slowly as she answers. “Hartwell told me I’m wanted for Bardot’s murder. Apparently, Holloway is missing. I’m assuming someone at the bureau found out about the drive Bardot had and Sebastian’s file isn’t at my authorization level; Hartwell caught it when I mentioned him.” She replies. I find myself holding her closer, in a tighter grip. No wonder she freaked out.
“So whoever is involved in this is trying to frame you for their crimes. Not how I thought this was going to go.” I sigh. I want to help reassure her, but I don’t know how in this instance. I’m grasping at straws here. “Can’t you just show them what we found and explain again what happened with Bardot? You didn’t do anything that they’re accusing you of. They have to realize how crazy this all sounds.” I suggest, desperate.
“Someone knows we’ve been snooping into things they don’t want to get out. Now I’m a target.” She suddenly jumps up, her eyes scanning the room. “I’m not going to make it back to the bureau.” She blurts out, and I quickly get up.
“What do you mean?” I question. She grabs her bag, tossing it on the bed. “Whoever is framing me is not going to let me get back to D.C. where I can show them what we’ve found. They’ll kill me before that happens.” She's talking a mile a minute and I can tell she’s spiraling. I walk in front of her, putting my hands on her shoulders. Her eyes are wide and the fear in them is becoming prominent again. “I’m not going to let that happen.” I insist. She shakes her head back at me.
“You said it yourself. People with power at a high enough level can keep things out of the papers and swept under the rug.” She states. “I need to get out of here. I need to finish this and clear my name. If they find me before I do, I’m done for. I will not be a pawn in their game.” She continues.
I don’t like the idea of her being a fugitive and having to be on the run, looking over her shoulder every second. But I know she’s right. As much as I’d like to have faith in the FBI and the justice system, I know it’s wishful thinking. She wouldn’t even make it over the Atlantic.
“Okay.” I say in confirmation. She gives me a confused look as she walks around the room. “Okay, what?” She questions as I pick up my duffel and unzip it. “Okay, I’m in, let’s go.”