10. Kael
Iscrolled through listings on my computer, letting my eyes dart over thumbnail pictures of sprawling ranches and idyllic mountain properties. Jake had sent me another batch of properties to choose from, but as usual, none of them hit quite right. None of them looked like… home. Maybe I needed to do what the realtor kept suggesting and actually go to visit them in person. However, something in my gut told me it had less to do with the properties and more to do with the concept.
Tabitha came up behind me, and from two feet away, she sniffed the air. “You smell like a middle school locker room.”
I rotated in my chair to face her, my elbow on the armrest and my chin in my hand. I flicked an irritated look her way. “There’s a rabbit in my bedroom, which is connected to my bathroom. I haven’t had a chance to shower after working out.” As we spoke, sweat plastered my back to the black leather chair, and I was starting to feel itchy as the perspiration cooled and dried.
Tabitha pulled a disgusted face, her dark brown eyes traveling over me. “So, you’re just gonna sit in it?”
With a sigh, I stood, stretching a sore arm over my chest. “You offering me your bathroom?”
“Jesus, no. I don’t need your cooties.” Tabitha backed away a step, and it was only then that I saw the plate of food in her hand. “I’m just informing you that your ‘compulsory guest’ isn’t eating anything.” Tabitha lifted the plate of microwave pizza meaningfully.
Sure enough, there wasn’t even a bite taken out of the slices. I glanced at the clock on the wall behind me, which read eight in the evening, and then back at the pizza. “Did she say why?”
Tabitha shrugged. “No. And I’m not her mother. I mean, I like the kid, but I’m not going to harp on her.”
I wasn’t Mattie’s mother, either, but I sure as hell felt responsible for her. I wasn’t sure when that had started, but I couldn’t deny that the feeling was there. Mattie didn’t trust me still, and I didn’t blame her for it. But I wasn’t going to stand on the sidelines while she suffered in silence. I took the plate from Tabitha. “I’ll talk to her.” Tabitha angled away from me dramatically as she handed me the plate, so I added, “And I’ll shower, okay? Christ, you’re dramatic.”
“Your odor is dramatic.”
I shoved my chair against the desk more forcefully than necessary, and Tabitha scurried away with a cackle. Although, despite my scowl, a hint of amusement pricked at my thoughts. Tabitha was my most loyal operative, and she’d stuck around with me far longer than necessary. She didn’t currently have any assignments, but she’d insisted on staying by my side until I had things fully wrapped up and closed down. Using the word “friend” made me strangely uncomfortable, but I had to admit, Tabitha was as close as it got.
I crossed the distance between my office area and the stairs that led to my bedroom, my sneakers squeaking against the polished concrete. The workstations had been set up on the opposite sides of the industrial space, and I crossed through a living area before reaching the kitchen that my room had been built over, loft-style. Most components of this safe house had been chosen for functionality, so the stairs were made of a metal grate material that bonged like deep bells as I climbed them.
It must have alerted Mattie to my approach because she sat up straight in my bed as I opened the door. With the sun having set hours ago, and only the sparing light from the kitchen below illuminating the space, I just barely made out the rigid, disheveled shadow of Mattie as she watched me close the door. She barely moved, barely breathed, like frightened prey caught in the greedy gaze of a predator.
That should have made me happy—it was what I’d wanted, after all. But it didn’t. Instead, I felt… guilty. I hesitated on the threshold, not sure of the best way to approach the woman I’d chased and captured several times over the last sixteen months. That fact tethered us together like an invisible thread, stretched taut with tension. If I twanged it in the wrong way, she’d lose all trust in me all over again.
I held up the plate. “You weren’t hungry?”
Like my words had broken a spell, Mattie’s shadow shifted, and then she coughed, tight and rattling loudly through the quiet space. When she had finished coughing into her arm, she reached over to grab a tissue from the box on the floating shelf to her left. “No offense to your nuked delicacy, but no. Not really.”
I glanced at the pizza. Truth be told, no one could pay me enough to eat that shit, either. Tabitha ate like an urban raccoon and likely wouldn’t have cared if the pizza had come from an authentic pizzeria or a school lunchroom. Exhaling in defeat, I set it on the chest of drawers against the window wall before crossing my arms and coming to stand near her side of the bed. “What can you eat?”
I couldn’t see much of her features, but I heard the skepticism in her raspy voice as she asked, “Why do you care?”
Good question. Why do you care, Kael? An inner voice that came out of nowhere whispered back, Because she’s yours. I blinked that thought away and said, “Because you’re my… guest. And I don’t want you to wither away before you pay me.”
Mattie angled her face to me, and a glow of light from downstairs caught on her smile. “Haven’t changed your mind?”
“Idiotically, no.”
Mattie coughed again, and I swore I could feel that sound, that heavy, squeezing pain in my chest. When she finished, she groaned and slumped back against the pillows. “Just leave me behind. Go on without me,” she croaked.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I reached over to the side table and picked up the thermometer.
As I pointed it at her shadowed form, Mattie chuckled. “You’re not a movie fan? You know, the dying side character who—will you stop that? I still have a fever. I’ll save you the trouble.”
The thermometer beeped loudly, agreeing with her and bathing us both in a soft red glow. “You’re not dying. Why is everyone being so dramatic today?”
“Who’s everyone?”
“Never mind,” I muttered, setting the thermometer back on the table. “I need to shower. Think about what you can eat while I’m in there, and I’ll see if I can make it happen.”
“You do smell like a swamp,” Mattie said seriously.
Rolling my eyes, I left her and crossed to the other side of the bed and over to my en suite bathroom. These chicks had no idea what “bad” smelled like. “Bad” was eight days in Yemen with five other buddies, no showers, and more piss, blood, and sweat on our clothing than dust. And Yemen is fucking dusty.
I opened the door to my bathroom, glancing at Mattie over my shoulder before going in. She had gone motionless again, still in the same position she’d slumped back into and rasping out a steady tempo of labored breaths. I wondered briefly if I needed to take her somewhere for treatment, but surely with her training, Mattie would know if that was necessary—right?
I stripped off my athletic shirt as I closed the door softly, and then I flicked on the lights. Muted gold suffused the small space, bouncing off chrome fixtures and slate gray tile in the enclosed glass shower. To my left, the single, glass vessel sink had been perched on white marble counters, and muted earth tones added a minimalist feel to the rest of the three-piece bathroom.
I turned on the overhead vent, and then while the shower warmed up, I thought over my plan of action for Mattie’s hastily concocted scheme. There were two glaring issues with Mattie’s “plan.” One, she was lying to me. My intuition knew it, and her nightmares confirmed it; something else was at work in Mattie’s life, and without knowing what, I would have to go into this thing half blind. Unstable variables were a tactical recipe for disaster.
Two, she wasn’t afraid of me. At least, she didn’t appear to be on the outside. Not to others. When we were alone, her body language told me she was wary of me, but she was quick to hide that behind salient impudence.
I tried to imagine showing up at the Thornes’ house with Mattie in tow and telling them I had psychologically tortured her so thoroughly that she wouldn’t dare run from me. And I imagined just how abysmally Mattie would back that up by immediately clapping back with some kind of smartass comment. It would never work.
I stepped into the glass shower, and steamy water hit my skin with a satisfying pressure that soothed away some of the ache in my muscles. Turning idly in the shower stream, I splashed some water over my shoulders while I thought. It might be worth it, when Mattie was feeling better, to level with her and find out what she was hiding. It would also help if she was willing to practice looking cowed in my presence.
I snorted audibly at the thought. Bunnies would hunt wolves before that would happen. I finished my shower quickly, ending it with the handle turned to icy cold and letting myself stand in the freezing water for two minutes before briskly drying off. I looked around the bathroom and realized I hadn’t brought my clothing in with me. Normally, I never needed to do that. Growling out a sigh, I turned off the light and walked out in my towel.
Mattie’s shrouded gaze followed me as I crossed the hardwood and headed for my dresser which still had the plate of cold pizza sitting on top of it. I glanced at her, and even in the low light, I made out the intensity of her eyes fixed on me. A smile pulled at my lips. “See something you like, Bunny?”
“That’s a rhetorical question, and you know it,” she grated out. But then she sneezed twice and flopped back onto her side with a moan. “I’m too sick to be impressed. Put that away.”
Chuckling, I chose a soft, heather gray Henley from the middle drawer and pulled it over my head. “Did you think about what you want to eat?” I bent over to find briefs and then athletic pants.
Mattie made another undead sound. “No.”
My mouth turned down at the corners as I straightened with the rest of my clothing in my hands. I turned to face Mattie and found only a dark shape in the bed where she’d fallen face-first into the pillows. Concern for her needled at the base of my skull, and I tapped my finger against my folded clothing while I thought. Maybe, in this case, sleep was better than food anyway. But I could hang out near her to make sure she didn’t have to stumble down the stairs if she needed something. Honestly, I had no idea what to do with a sick civilian—it was way outside my scope of skills. But I wanted to stay near her, so that’s what I would do. No need to overthink the thing.
I finished dressing in the bathroom, and when I came back out, leaving the light on so I could see Mattie better, I found her in the same position. Her back rose and fell with steady breaths, but she was folded in half like a broken doll, and I couldn’t imagine that it was comfortable. With my bare feet sliding across the floors, I padded to her side of the bed before sitting on the edge. I reached over and lifted her up by the back of her shirt, pulling her out of her awkward position and settling her back on the pillows.
Mattie growled like an angry cat. “That’s not helping.”
“I doubt sleeping like that would, either.” I adjusted the gray comforter around her, and she blinked up at me from the swath of pillows and blankets that sucked her in like putty.
Her eyes, in this light, looked light as acorns. “Why are you being nice to me?”
“Four million dollars,” I lied, sitting away from her again.
Mattie snorted, which led to a coughing fit. I reached for the plastic tumbler full of water that sat amongst a collection of discarded tissues and lemonade bottles. She was drinking fluids, at least. As I handed it to her gingerly, trying not to think about how many germs were all over it, she said, “So, you admit I’m your employer now?”
“Mattie, you’re no more my employer than I am an actual ghost.” She sipped water from the straw, and I added, “But I admit, I’m a little invested in your problems. And, I suppose, in you.”
Mattie’s cracked lips turned up into a rueful smile. “I’ve seen better investments.”
“Me too,” I agreed dryly. I took the cup from her and set it back down. “You should get some sleep. We can revisit the food thing in the morning.”
Nodding, Mattie closed her eyes with a little puff of a breath. I stood up and shuffled over to the curved armchair by the wall of windows. The switch above the chair darkened the glass, blocking out the light from downstairs and plunging the room into darkness. My tablet still lay on the round table where I’d left it this morning, so I picked it up and pulled up the primary directive Tabitha had started for Mattie’s commission earlier.
Mattie shifted, turning over to her other side and coughing. I glanced up, and then returned my attention to the PD, which detailed resources needed—hardly any—and how it would factor into our budget. Although, as far as I could figure, it wouldn’t matter much what the budget was. Not for a four-million-dollar payout. But even if that wasn’t guaranteed, and I knew it wasn’t, it wouldn’t matter. It was a simple enough plan. The biggest asset required would be my time, and I had plenty of that with the business winding down.
Mattie coughed again, shifting to her back and fiddling with the pillows. I flicked a look her way, raising my eyebrow. “What’s wrong now?”
Mattie muttered something unintelligible.
“What?” I asked leaning forward a fraction.
“I can’t sleep if you’re here,” Mattie piped up in irritation.
I leaned back again, rolling my eyes. “You’re half dead. You’ll fall asleep just fine if you keep your eyes closed.”
“Now who’s being dramatic?” she teased.
I fought a smile. “Count bunnies in your head.”
“One bunny, two bunny, three bunny…”
“Not out loud,” I drawled.
“Sorry.” She went quiet again, shuffling in the bed. I listened to her breathing as I typed out notes in the PD, adding the need for a more detailed exit strategy for different contingencies based on what courses of actions her parents might take. They could react in any number of ways to us showing up with this charade in tow. Mattie’s breathing went suspiciously quiet, and I peeked up again.
Her body had gone totally rigid and still. She was fake sleeping. Most people didn’t seem to realize how obvious and loud a sleeping person really was. Their breathing went deep and even, and usually filled a quiet room with its sonorous quality. Mattie had gone dead quiet.
I set my tablet aside with a clatter and she jumped. I leaned my chin on my fist. “Do you need a lullaby, Cottontail?”
Mattie sat up, and the light from the bathroom backlit the messy halo of blond hair around her head. “How’s your singing voice?”
“Abominable,” I admitted.
“Probably not, then,” she rasped.
Sighing again, I stood from the chair and returned to the bed. Sitting down beside her, I motioned for her to lie back down. “Turn with your back to me.”
Mattie gave me a distrustful brow furrow, but then she turned to lay on her side with her back toward me. She still wore the same sweatshirt and leggings I’d given her in Oregon, and I pushed the hood and collar down, exposing her neck. Mattie tensed. “What are you doing?”
“Helping you.” I placed my hand between her shoulder blades. “When I was in daycare, I never could nap with the other kids. My house wasn’t the calmest environment, and sleeping was, well, there’s a kind of vulnerability to it.”
“Hm,” Mattie agreed with a sigh. “I know it.”
“I got in a lot of trouble for it,” I continued, speaking soft and low. “They wanted us to be calm during naptime, but I hated it. Too many things I wanted to do. Then there was this teacher who started halfway through the year. I was pretty young, so the details are hazy. But I know she used to put her hand on my back—she didn’t move it or pat me or anything. She just kept it there, like this.” I increased the pressure on her back a fraction. “It helped me fall asleep, and later on, I learned that human touch can be soothing, even if we’re a little prickly on the outside.”
“I’m not prickly,” Mattie mumbled, but already her shoulders were slumping, and her chin fell forward.
I begged to differ. She was prickly like a bur, and just as likely to get caught up in my thoughts and tangled in my feelings. Just as irritating, too. “Focus on my hand,” I whispered softly. She melted into the mattress, humming in a contented way.
When the rest of her had unwound, and her breathing deepened, I smoothed my hand up her back to her neck. With both thumbs I massaged the pressure points at the base of her skull, just below the mastoid bones. It only took a few seconds, and her deep breathing grew long and slow. I eased off the pressure, placing my hand on her back again. Soon, I could tell she had drifted off, and the warmth of her body curled up in my blankets and the sound of her relaxed sleep tugged my own eyelids down.
It was tempting to lie down beside her. But there were some boundaries even I couldn’t break, and sleeping next to the woman I was responsible for and actively working with—it would cross all the safety nets I had constructed over the years. I didn’t mix business and pleasure. That led to mistakes and clouded judgments, and something told me that out of all my assignments, I couldn’t mess this one up. I couldn’t afford to endanger Matilda Thorne by giving into weakness.
So, I stood slowly and crept out of the bedroom, leaving a sliver of regret behind.