3. Cian
Cian
L ater, alone in my room, I watched her stubborn streak rear itself again.
She sat in the chair, refusing the fresh drink Sean offered, muttering at him the entire time he calmly swept up the mess of broken glass and ice.
After he left, I assumed she would give in and crawl into bed.
But instead, she sat in the chair, her head occasionally nodding, refusing to succumb to the exhaustion I knew she had to be feeling.
I was tired of simply watching her fight against sleep.
When her head finally hit her chest, her hands falling limp to the sides, I slipped into the room and carried her over to the bed, tucking the blankets tight so she could get a proper night’s sleep.
I stood over her, finally able to take her in without her glaring at me.
Skylar’s face was heart-shaped and pale, with deep shadows under her eyes.
Long lashes rested on her cheeks. One dark bruise to the side of her eye made me frown.
I traced it lightly with my finger, still wondering how she got it and why it bothered me so much.
Her lips were full and pouty, and I remembered the feeling of them pressed against my palm.
Her hair, dry now, was a mass of curls and a deep brown like her eyes.
Her little hands were clutching the blanket, another deep bruise on the back of one.
She was thin, far too thin, but I also knew that came from living on the streets.
I wondered what her story was and if we would ever be close enough for her to tell me.
I stepped back in surprise.
I wanted to be close enough for that?
What the fuck was she doing to me?
How was that possible? I didn’t know this girl. I shouldn’t know this girl. But still, the need to be sure she was safe was strong. I wanted to sit beside her and watch over her all night. Be there if she woke up scared. Hold her if she needed to be comforted.
Spinning on my heel, I left the room.
I needed to stop thinking that way.
I checked on her a couple times in the night.
Once, she was crying, curled up back in the chair with her knees drawn up tight against her chest. It took everything I had not to go in and offer her comfort, even though I knew she’d curse at me and tell me it was entirely my fault anyway.
I was pretty sure she’d never seen anyone murdered before—and I hadn’t let her know she still hadn’t.
Instead, I let her cry it out, and I snuck back in to carry her back to the bed and make sure she was covered up.
I had to laugh in the morning when I checked on her. She was asleep again on the floor—proving her point, I suppose, that she decided where she would sleep. But at least she’d taken a blanket with her this time.
I made her breakfast and took it in, trying not to wake her up as I lifted her, once again, onto the bed.
I couldn’t resist running my hand through her curls as she burrowed deeper into the pillow.
I did, however, manage to resist the temptation to drop a kiss on her pale cheek.
I left the room, shaking my head at the strange thoughts I was having.
I walked into the house, still processing my meeting with Orson. Sean was in the kitchen, leaning on the counter and eating a bowl of pasta. His laptop was open, and he chuckled away as he chewed and swallowed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Just keeping an eye on our guest.”
“Did she eat her breakfast? Or is it quarantined for drug inspection?”
“After a fashion.”
I grabbed a bottle of water. “Meaning?”
“She rolled the muffins into the napkin you had them on and stuffed them and the bottle of water in her backpack.”
My bottle stopped midair. “What the fuck for?”
He spun the computer. “For a meal later…after she escapes.”
I narrowed my eyes on the screen. “What the hell is she doing?”
“I think she had a nail file or something in her pack. She’s using it to unscrew the bars on the window.”
I leaned beside him. “I guess she doesn’t know the windows don’t open.”
He twirled another mouthful of pasta. “Nope.”
“How long has MacGyver been at it?”
“She started not long after you left. The first screw took her almost forty minutes. She’s getting better.”
“You haven’t busted her?”
“Nah. Gives her something to do. I have teased her some, though. I go check on her, making a lot of noise so she knows I’m coming.”
I snickered. “What does she do?”
“Yanks the curtains closed and sits down, pretending to be napping. She’s a really bad actress.”
I shook my head. “Stubborn little kitten.”
He looked at me. “Why do you call her that?”
I shrugged. “She had herself all trapped in a corner at the warehouse. When I pulled her out, she was terrified but tried to look so fierce. Like a kitten thinking they look like a lion.” I flicked my hand at the screen. “And she’s all tiny and everything.”
“You told her our names.”
“It slipped.” I shrugged. “Who’s she gonna tell, Sean? The day she leaves this house, she’ll know the truth. That we aren’t what she thinks we are. But that won’t be until it’s over, and it won’t matter anymore.”
“Careful, Cian. Your real self is showing through. You can’t afford to let that happen yet.”
I shook my head, pushing away from the counter. “It’s fine. I’m gonna take her some lunch. She has to be starving.”
“Not yet. Look, she’s got them off.”
We watched as the bars covering the window came off, and Skylar carefully slid them to the floor.
She grabbed her backpack and slung it over her shoulder, then climbed up on the back of the chair.
She ran her hand over the casements, no doubt looking for a handle.
Her movements became frantic, and she started trying to pull on the wood using her little tool. I had to admire her tenacity.
“She’s going to hurt herself,” I muttered. “Maybe I need to go and stop her.”
Suddenly, she gave up, dropping down into the chair, defeat causing her shoulders to slump. She launched herself at the bed, burying her head into the pillows as her arms and legs thrashed.
“Temper tantrum,” Sean mused. “She’s not a happy camper.” Leaning forward, he turned up the volume, and we both chuckled at the muffled shrieks. My grin turned into a frown as the shrieks became tears, and her entire body shook from the strength of her sobs.
I stood, and he laid his hand on my arm. “Let her get it out, Cian. She probably needs the release. Tell me what happened with Orson, then you can go and see her.”
I hated the thought of her weeping, for some reason. It bothered me more than I wanted to admit. As usual, Sean was right, though, and she needed to get it out.
Sitting down, I dragged a hand through my hair, meeting his gaze. “That man is barely human,” I started.
He nodded in agreement. “We knew that going in.”
“I walked over a dead body—two of them—while I was there. One was a runner who was late and displeased Orson. The other was a cook who made something he didn’t like.” I scrubbed my face. “Apparently he had been warned.”
Sean snorted. “Well, in Orson’s eyes, he was lenient.”
I nodded, still thinking of the lifeless eyes staring up at me from the floor.
“They were kids.”
Sean looked grim. “That’s another one of his MO’s. He gets them young, and when they’re no longer useful, he kills them. Very few make it more than a year or two. His only constant is Rex. They’ve been together for years.”
“Scary fucker. His eyes are so dark they’re black pools of nothing. He stares at me all the time, and I have a feeling he’d like to put a bullet in my head.”
“Probably would. You are the only one Orson has ever capitulated to. Gone after. Rex probably feels threatened.”
I took a sip of coffee. “I hope to take him out before this ends as well.”
“I agree.”
“I gave him the ring.”
“It’s not working.”
I frowned. “Dammit.”
“It needs to be rebooted.”
I shook my head. “Getting into that trophy room of his is next to impossible.”
“We knew it was a long shot. But if you can, it would be helpful.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“What did he say?”
“He congratulated me on a job ‘well done.’ Informed me how impressed he was with me.”
“And you acted as if you couldn’t care less,” Sean finished with a smirk.
“I did. He hates it. But he knows he can’t push me too far. He wants something more from me. Well, from Tony.”
“We hoped he would tell you today.”
“He got a call and became agitated and distracted. I put on my Tony mask and told him I had places to be and wasn’t used to being ignored. I walked out.”
Sean laughed. “I bet that pissed him off.”
“Royally. I could hear him shouting all the way down the driveway. I ignored him. He’s sent me a few messages since.”
“Which you will return at your own convenience.”
“The longer I make him wait, the more he wants me. His ego—” I shook my head. “It’s his greatest weakness.”
“Good. We can use it. Now, how about some food?”
“Yeah.”
I added a few details as I ate, giving Sean some information he could use. “I saw two computers—one laptop. There are cameras everywhere. Sensors. His office is rigged. The room I want into is wired to blow at any moment. He carries the remote with him. Always.”
Sean nodded. “Nothing about that surprises me. We know he’s paranoid.” He leaned back in his chair. “You’re certain he bought it—all of it?”
I nodded, swallowing a mouthful of pasta. He was a great cook—a perk I thoroughly enjoyed.
“Rex appreciated the show and told it in great detail, I guess. They’re convinced I killed the mole in Orson’s organization.”
“And Skylar?”
I shuddered. “He thinks the reason I look so tired is I was awake all night, enjoying my new ‘plaything,’ as he referred to her.” I shook my head. “He’s such a sick bastard.”
“Why do you look so worried?”
“Something isn’t adding up, Sean. We know who the mole is—it’s me. There’s something we’re missing. I think we have another one. Someone else is working against him.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “He has so few people he trusts now—who could it be?”