Thirty-Nine
THIRTY-NINE
VANESSA
“Get settled in, and I’ll grab you in half an hour. We can go get lunch.” Evelyn watches me set my overstuffed backpack on the bed and poke my head in the bathroom door to check it out. “Remember, I’m only a few doors down the hall if you need anything.”
“Thanks.” I offer a small smile and fold my arms, eyeing the room's layout.
We met at the airport; her flight arrived an hour before mine. I was thankful for the semi-familiar face after the early morning start kicking my ass, but at the same time, it was a confrontational reminder of why I was here when she looked so much like her brother.
Evelyn returns to her bag that waits in the hall and lets the soft-close door click shut behind her.
The silence hits me first. Even though cars crawl the street below and crowds of people push past one another on the sidewalk, I can’t hear any of it.
I hate the city.
Hands wringing each other, I stand in the middle of the hotel room. It’s pretty, with an industrial vibe. Exposed metal beams run across the ceiling, vanishing through the wall into the adjacent room. Exposed concrete has been polished to make a feature wall for the bed. Painted black steel frames the panel windows. I tug my backpack to the foot of the mattress and unzip the front pocket, searching out the meds I filled before leaving Temperance.
Handing over the script Abraham’s doctor wrote felt like an acceptance of him in some weird way.
An act of hypocrisy on my behalf.
Still, I feel slightly relieved knowing they’re there if things get too hard. I slide the small packet onto the bedside table, then decide it’s too much of an in-your-face reminder of my flaws to display it so prominently and shove it in the drawer beneath.
With the complementary bible. Ironic.
The flight wasn’t as bad as I thought it might be. I tried Marianna’s suggestion of having something to listen to and devoured half an audiobook by the time we landed. It quieted the constant stream of anxiety flowing through my mind enough that I dared get a caffeine fix on our way out of the airport.
A decision which seems to have backfired, now that I have an abundance of energy and nothing to do.
Might as well organize your shit for tomorrow, then. I pull out my two wardrobe choices and hang them in the narrow robe adjacent to the door. Depending on my mood, I have an outfit for each. A long, high-necked black dress, gathered at the waist, and sensible Doc Marten boots. Or a gauzy, flowing black blouse and fitted high-waisted jeans to also pair with my Docs.
I wasn’t kidding when I told Murphy I’d pack black or black.
My hand brushes against the one spur-of-the-moment inclusion when I pull my toiletry bag free.
The camera.
I searched its make online and figured out not only how the damn thing works but that it’ll work as long as I have a solid Wi-Fi connection. It’s not anchored to a home location.
Why the fuck did I pack it? Figure that mental fuckery out, and facing Abraham will seem like a breeze.
I just knew I’d regret leaving it behind.
My thumb brushes the smooth front over the spot I scratched away to reveal the indicator light. At least now I’ll know when he’s watching.
If he even will.
“You’re certifiable.” I set the damn thing down on the table beside the obligatory cuck chair they have in every hotel room. Seems fitting, considering.
The TV has a limited range of channels to flick through. Some black-and-white movie is all that plays on the one channel unlikely to share anything to do with Abraham’s businesses—adverts, stock market news, any of it. I lower the volume and toss the remote aside, picking up my phone instead.
My brain instantly calculates how many hours I have until I’m in the same room as him. Breathing the same air. Smelling his god-awful cologne that he’s probably been too stubborn to change after all these years.
Everything tenses inside, my back aching between my shoulders, skin prickling as the expected wash of adrenalin surges through.
It’s only twenty-four hours. Well, twenty-seven by the time our flight leaves. But regardless, the whole fucking thing is temporary. A necessary evil to find out what happened to make Mom sick.
Is that why Gage left?
If he’ll even tell you. It hasn’t escaped me that the lawyer will be one of his, and anything I’m told tomorrow won’t be the legal requirement—it’ll be what Abraham has sanctioned. The man keeping anything that may benefit me a secret isn’t too much of a stretch of the imagination.
I wake the screen and thumb through to the social media apps, unsure why, but I know it’ll fill time until Evelyn’s ready for lunch. My feed is basic, mostly jammed with sponsored posts, considering I have two people on my friends list, and one of those is my stalker. It only takes a few swipes before his first image comes up. A post from a week ago.
And it’s of my damn cat.
I sit up straighter, folding my legs before me. There’s no caption, no explanation. Just a shot of Murphy squinting against the sun, long grass surrounding him. It’s a good photo—I’ll give Chaos that—but when did he take it? I thought he only camped across the road at night.
I switch to the calendar app, mentally tracking back the days to the date of the post and working out what the hell I was doing at the time. The fuck? It was the day I goddamn woke to find him in my bed. The day he ate me out on my kitchen counter and then left after I broke down. But he had somewhere to be. He left because somebody phoned him. Did he come back?
How many times has he been there without me knowing?
Just how often has he watched me?
“Fuck.” I grip the phone tightly and stare out the tall window.
Who do I ask about this? Who knows how deep his obsession runs? And if it’s dangerous. Crow seemed happy enough to talk, but that Circus freak was there more often. They’d know how frequently Chaos relieved them of their duties, but I have no way to contact them. Not that it matters.
All his talk of helping me get back at my abusers, and the second he put his money where his mouth is, I balk.
Was the fantasy of a man who’d burn the world for me better than the reality? Because that’s what he is. A man who proved he has no qualms about doing what it takes to protect me.
Or show the people who’d hurt me that he won’t stand for that shit.
And all I could think when I realized he’d pummeled the doctor was, what would Abraham do if he knew?
Eighteen years and the man still runs my life as though I’m a teenager on the compound, dressing demurely and holding the arm of his wealthy friends while they use me for their sole gain.
“Come on, girl.” I ditch the phone and climb off the bed to investigate the snack bar.
The green light on the camera switches on.
Frozen like a rabbit in the predator’s sights, I peer at the device out of the corner of my eye, fingers poised on a tiny pack of potato chips. Why am I so excited? To be connected to him, if even by such a thin thread. What do I say? Do I do? I fuss with the snacks, reordering them in the decorative little box while I ponder my choices, only for the light to snuff out before I can come to any rational conclusion.
Fuck it.
I study the camera with a hand on my hip and realize why it was probably so short—he couldn’t see me where I stood. Likely thought I wasn’t here. Dumb, Vanessa.
“It’s only me!” Evelyn calls whilst knocking on my door.
I jolt, snapping myself out of the trance, and grab the closest thing to me to disguise the camera: my striped sweater.
“Hey.” I open the door to let her in. “Let me grab my stuff.”
She stays holding the door as I duck back to retrieve the phone and room card. “You doing okay?”
“I think so.” Impending sense of doom—check. Bone-deep urge to go home—check. “So far, anyway.”
“If it helps you feel any better,” she says with a slight chuckle. “I’m nervous, too.”
“Really?” I quickly check my hair in the mirror on my way to the door.
She nods, shifting to the hallway to let me out as well. “Just because Abraham and I share blood didn’t mean he took it any easier on me growing up.”
I study her as she punches the button for the elevator. “You never said much about your upbringing.”
“Never had the occasion to.” She offers a small smile before stepping into the waiting car. “Not that there’s a lot to say.” The car shifts down a few floors before she speaks again. “What do you fancy? For lunch?”
I watch the numbers change. “Something light, if that’s okay?”
“I saw a sushi shop on the ride here. Maybe we could check that out?” The door slides open on the foyer, and she steps out, partially obscuring my view of the people beyond.
“Sounds good to me.” I duck my head and concentrate on the contrast of my black boots against the pristine white marble floor, hands wringing before me.
I’m fucking over the waves of anxiety, but I also know that creating tension with something I can’t control once it’s in motion is pointless.
“Guess I was lucky to get us separate rooms,” Evelyn remarks as we reach the front doors. “Looks like they’re busy. Although I wouldn’t have picked this to be the type of group who’d stay here.”
“What do you me—“ I narrowly avoid tripping down the short steps to the pavement when I look up.
And find a row of motorcycles backed into the curb.
Blue and brown eyes watching me from the middle.