Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
It had been a long time since Michelle had depended upon another person.
She couldn’t recall the last time she felt so vulnerable.
Her writing paid her bills. She shopped for her own food and clothes.
She even managed to enjoy a few extravagances such as monthly salon visits.
Her life was comfortable and secure. The reality of how drastically everything changed hit her with the force of a sledgehammer as Fletch drove down a narrow dirt road and came to a guard shack.
The things he’d told her about the no-name agency sounded more like fiction than reality.
Yet here she was in a truck as Fletch got out and walked to speak with the guard on duty.
While she couldn’t hear their conversation, she was pretty sure it was about her.
Finally, the guard acquiesced, and the gate opened.
“Problem?” she asked as Fletch got back inside the truck.
“Nothing that can’t be handled.”
She inhaled, unsure what to expect.
Beyond the guard shack, the truck’s headlights cut through the dark night.
For the next five minutes, there wasn’t a light in sight, only the headlights cutting through the black night.
The road wound between mountains leading into a cavern.
Within was the first evidence of life. The settlement only had a few lights illuminating the complex.
The structures loomed in the shadows of the higher elevations of land.
Michelle had never been on a military base. If she were to imagine one from books, movies, and TV shows, this complex would fit into that imagination. In the dark night, the buildings lacked color or differentiating features, giving the cluster an ominous uniform feel.
“It’s not much,” Fletch warned as they pulled up to what looked like a two-story apartment building. “I travel a lot.” He shrugged. “And I wasn’t expecting to bring anyone home with me when I left.”
Michelle grinned. Fletch’s usual self-assuredness was replaced by what she could only describe as self-deprecation. It was endearing. “Are you telling me your apartment might not be picked up?”
He pressed his lips together. “You won’t hurt my feelings if the star rating is less than the last motel.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
Outside the truck, Fletch opened the door to an apartment on the first floor and tentatively, Michelle entered.
There was an odor of stuffiness that happens when a place has been closed for a long time.
Fletch flipped the switches, bringing the interior into view.
A small entry allowed them to go right into the kitchen, straight into the living room, or left to what she assumed were the bedrooms.
The counter between the kitchen and living room was covered with stuff. Michelle didn’t have a better description. There were books, papers, and even an empty milk jug. There were dishes in the sink, even though there was a dishwasher.
“This is…” She spun around. “You said you’ve never brought a woman here.”
Fletch was walking around, picking up blankets and pillows from the sofa. “You’re the first.”
Her laugh started as a nervous snicker and morphed into a full-belly laugh. It must have been contagious, because soon, Fletch was laughing too. “I know. It’s a mess.”
“Bedrooms?” Michelle asked as she tilted her head toward the left.
“Two, but one is…Let me show you.” He led her toward the room with the open door and turned on the light.
It was a bedroom, all right. There was a bed—a king-sized bed with a fitted sheet, pillows, and a tangled knot of blankets.
A television sat on top of a long dresser, where drawers were opened in disarray.
Fletch went to the dresser and shoved the clothes inside the drawers as he closed each one. A bathroom was attached.
“There’s a second bathroom in the hallway.”
Michelle nodded, holding a nugget of hope that inside the closed door she’d find another bed, one not in disarray. While the space could be a bedroom, it was obviously Fletch’s office. The room was overstuffed with computers and more computers.
Looking back into the main bedroom, she let out a breath and asked, “Do you have a laundry? Like a washing machine and dryer?”
“In the kitchen.”
“How about extra sheets?”
He contorted his face in question. “You need more sheets?”
“No, different ones.” She pointed at the coffee stain on the side of the bed. At least she hoped it was coffee.
Exhaling, he ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m fucking great at what I do. Cleaning isn’t part of that.”
“Not a problem. I think we found something I’m better at than you.”
“It’s the middle of the night,” he reminded her. “Don’t you want to sleep?”
She went to the bed and began pulling blankets from the pile. “You’ve totally messed with my sleeping schedule. How about some housework first?”
“Chell.” There was a bemused apologetic tone to the one word.
Michelle stopped what she was doing and walked closer to Fletch. “Hey, I’m alive because of you. I don’t care how you live.” She shrugged. “But if you want me here—”
“Here is where you’re safe.”
“If you want me here, I have to clean.” She pointed to the computer room. “I’m sure you have things in there that you want to do.”
“Fuck,” he said, “I can’t let you clean my place.”
Michelle’s cheeks lifted with her smile. “For now, it’s our place and yeah, I’m going to clean.”
The first thing she did was to strip the bed and pillows and start the sheets in a wash.
Thankfully, he had detergent. Next, she decided to tackle the kitchen.
It appeared that instead of cooking, Fletch preferred microwaving.
It took boiling water inside the microwave for her to begin to chip away at the layers of the last fifty food items he’d heated.
She rummaged through his cabinets, finding mostly nonperishable foods: soups, canned vegetables, rice, boxed macaroni and cheese. At least it was the kind with the gooey cheese, not the powdered cheese. To her surprise, Michelle found cleaning supplies.
Michelle didn’t know where to begin with the countertops.
Her goal was for organized clutter as she stacked papers.
The books, much to her surprise, were thrillers, military and psychological, as well as multiple titles of non-fiction.
The tomes she moved to an under-utilized bookcase in the living room.
Each room was an adventure.
Once the sheets were in the dryer, she started a load of towels, kitchen and bath.
She’d also collected an assortment of plates, silverware, and glasses and started the dishwasher.
While it wasn’t exactly the glamorous life of a New York Times bestselling author, the menial tasks accomplished something Michelle desperately needed. They took her mind off the shit show her life had become and gave her achievable goals.
Each shiny or dust-free surface was an accomplishment.
The bed was made, the towels were in the dryer, and brewing coffee filled the apartment with a delicious aroma. Finally, she sat down on the sofa. The clock near the television read near four in the morning. Her days and nights were catching up to her.
Michelle laid her head on the soft cushioned arm of the sofa, pulled one of the recently folded blankets over her, and closed her eyes.
Her scream pierced the air. “Stop.” She pushed with all her might against her attacker. The gun. She needed to get to the gun. “Stop.” Her fists beat against his chest as he tried to carry her.
“Chell.”
She opened her eyes, finding herself in Fletch’s arms, him staring at her with a bewildered expression. “Oh my God.”
He’d placed her back on the couch.
Michelle sat up and buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. I think it was a nightmare.”
He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have snuck up on you. I wanted you to stay asleep.” Fletch sat beside her and reached for her hands. “Fuck, you didn’t show these to me.”
He was talking about her wrists. It appeared as if she were wearing two large purple bracelets designed in the distinctive pattern of fingerprints.
Michelle tugged the cuffs of her shirt down. “They’ll heal.”
“Makes me wish I would have killed the motherfucker.”
She knew she should be appalled by a death threat. She wasn’t. In the short time she’d known Fletch, she’d decided that protecting was his way of showing he cared. “Hopefully, the deputy had a whopper of a headache.”
“I didn’t mean to wake you. I was going to put you in bed.” He looked around the living room and kitchen area. “This place has never looked this good.” He grinned. “Hell, I didn’t know it could.”
“After days of driving, it felt good to do something.”
“How about that bed thing?” he asked.
She nodded. “I’m tired. Maybe a few hours’ sleep, and we can get back on a normal cycle.”
“I can carry you.”
That made her smile. “I’m capable of walking.” As they both stood, she turned to him. “What about you? Are you going to get some sleep?”
“A few hours. I have to meet with Peterson at 0900.”
“What day is tomorrow?” Michelle asked, uncertain. The last week had been a blur that seemed much longer than one week.
“Today is Friday. Tomorrow is Saturday. There are no days off in the agency.”
She nibbled her upper lip. “What if he says I can’t stay here?”
Fletch didn’t hesitate. “Then I go where you go. He’s not going to want to lose me.”
It was crazy how natural it felt when Michelle came out of the bathroom wearing her usual bedtime attire of soft shorts and an oversized t-shirt to find Fletch wearing only his boxer briefs.
He must have been waiting for her because he stood from the side of the bed and met her. Taking her hands, he squeezed them. “Thank you. I’m embarrassed you had to clean.”
“Don’t be.”
He tilted his head, the tips of his hair curling near his wide shoulder. “I guess I’m normally a slob, but damn, even the bathroom’s sparkling.”
Michelle smiled. “It felt good to do something for you. You’ve done everything for me. I’ve been thinking about it. I grabbed the cash I had at home, but it’s only a few hundred dollars. Will I be able to access the money from my accounts?”
“Not if you’re officially missing.”
“What about my father’s estate? I don’t know that he had a lot, but…”
Fletch shook his head.
Michelle closed her eyes and exhaled. “It was good to stop thinking for a while.”
“Your legs are bruised.”
Michelle looked down at the purple splotches on her thighs and back up to Fletch’s concerned gaze. “They only hurt if I touch them.”
His timbre changed, his tone deeper and words slower. “Maybe…I could take your mind off of them and everything else for a while.”
The suggestion caused her core to twist and her nipples to bead. “I thought it was only one night.”
“Chell, I’ll let you sleep. I can even go out to the couch. When we were running, I was too concerned with keeping you alive to let my guard down. You’re safe here.”
She was also alive. That was evident by the way her circulation suddenly raced through her veins. “Don’t sleep on the couch.”
If cleaning had been cathartic, being in Fletch’s arms was empowering.
The bulk of his body surrounded her, creating a cocoon where she was not only safe, but satisfied.
The unfamiliarity of their first night together vanished.
They’d lived and breathed the same air in the same space for nearly a week.
They were together in their quest for safety, bonded during hours of sharing, and forged by the dangers of their journey.
When Fletch offered to take her mind off things, Michelle wondered if the night they’d shared could be repeated. It wasn’t. Tonight was more. Their days and nights were no longer threatened. Mutual pleasure was their only focus.
The secret agency, Sheriff Perkins, and even Michelle’s father were momentarily forgotten. When Michelle surrendered to sleep, she was both satiated and exhausted.