32. Ava
32
Ava
M y mind whirled with unspeakable chaos as he moved around the front, climbed into the driver’s side, and turned the key.
The engine roared as he gripped the wheel.
My car, under his command.
My decisions stripped away.
"What am I going to do with you, Ava?" He glanced around before pulling away from the parking lot and making his way down the street.
"Let me go?"
He let out a dry, skeptical huff, shooting me a side-eye before merging onto the freeway. "If I let you go, then you're as good as dead."
I rolled my eyes. "You're going to kill me, anyway."
"Who said that?"
"So you're not taking me to a remote location to kill me and dump my body?"
He raised a brow and huffed. "You have quite the imagination, my little recluse."
Recluse?
"So, how did you find my apartment? Assuming that was you who left my door wide open."
“I’m not telling you a damn thing.” I yanked my hands apart with a sharp jolt, my shoulders jarring up and down like a see-saw. Pain shot through my wrists, white-hot and blinding, tearing a cry from my throat.
He reached over and placed his bloody hand over my thigh with a gentleness that caught my breath in my throat. "You seem to have an affinity for trying to hurt yourself, so let me save you the trouble of trying. Those are military-grade cable ties, and the only thing taking them off is a knife or a really sharp pair of scissors."
"Take them off." I moved my leg away from him. "If you aren't going to hurt me, then take them off."
"No."
"Then tell me where we’re going?"
"Some place safe." He brought his hand up to the bridge of his nose and rubbed, his focus remaining on the freeway ahead. "Do you remember what you had written on your board?"
"Why do you care?"
"Just answer the question, Ava."
"Most of it, why?"
"Because you're going to write your story, but you are going to have to do it from memory."
"You want me to write the story?" I jeered, a mocking laugh bubbling up. "Says the man who had a whole camera system in my apartment? Yeah, okay."
Nate exhaled and increased the speed as I turned toward the door and put the Zip-tie in my mouth, my shoulder screaming as I stretched and gnawed on the plastic.
"Ava, for God’s sake." His tone brimmed with dark amusement. “Those are seven-and-a-half-millimeter cable ties, sweetheart. You’re not biting through them—not here, not anywhere, and certainly not sitting beside me.”
I turned and glared. "Don't call me sweetheart, sweetheart. You're a liar ."
"I didn't lie to you."
"Oh, really?"
I twisted my wrists, fumbling to adjust them, my elbow smacking against the door. " Ow ." A hiss escaped me.
His lips twitched into a smirk.
“Shut up.” I wriggled against the ties. “This is all your fault.”
“Of course it is." He shook his head and looked at his blind spot. "It's my fault that you stuck your nose into a project that put your neck on the line, and now mine?"
"Yours? Please. What have you done?"
"Oh, maybe broke into the Mayor's office with you."
I tsked. "I didn't ask you to do that."
"But I did."
Snarling, I bit my tongue and glanced out of my own window. "You're still a liar."
“I never lied.” His hand crashed against the steering wheel, his jaw tight, his eyes burning. “I never lied to you—not once—not even when every instinct, every ounce of my training, screamed at me to do it.”
"Okay, Not A Liar Nate. Who the hell are you?"
"Nate."
"Okay, Nate. Then tell me what you plan on doing with me?" I gave the cable ties another tug for good measure when he tore off the freeway.
His knuckles whitened around the steering wheel—his eyes darting between the rearview mirror and the dark road ahead—the tension rolling off of him in waves.
He eased the car onto a narrow dirt road that disappeared between thick trees—his focus snapping to the road sign ahead. The dashboard let loose a faint glow, and gravel crunched beneath the tires before he threw the car into park and killed the engine.
"We need to switch cars." Silence sliced between us as he scanned the dark edges of the clearing, his gaze shifting to me.
And then I'll make a run for it.
"And you're coming with me."
My stomach dropped. "What? Why?"
"Because I’m not leaving you alone to do something stupid," He stepped out of the car with my bag in his hand, rounded the front, and yanked open my door. "Keep up and stay quiet." Leaning in, he released my seat belt and grabbed my upper arm. "Let’s go."
"First a stalker, then kidnapper, and now grand theft. How is it that you're supposedly the good guy I'm supposed to trust again?" I stumbled out after him, my heart pounding.
Thick forest shadows swallowed us as he led me off the gravel road—my feet stumbling through the pine. His grip jerked me upright, then stopped, his head tilting to the side.
"What are we—"
He put his fingers over my lips. " Shh. "
His sharp gaze swept across the darkness, then pointed across the field toward a trailer park.
"Stealing a car from the poor. Robin Hood would hate you."
Nate turned towards me, his hand clamping around the back of my neck, and stamped his lips over mine.
I melted, my lips warming against his, then stiffened as his tongue pressed against the seam of my lips. Yanking away from him, I stomped my foot with a growl. "You are so lucky I can't slap you right now."
Nate smirked as I wiped his kiss off my lips with my shoulder. "And you're lucky I don't have duct tape."
He released my arm and trekked across the field, a beaten-up suburban in his trajectory.
"What was that even for, huh? To annoy me?" I whisper-yelled as I followed behind him, high-stepping crunchy weeds.
"Honestly," he stopped in his tracks, "I don't know." He picked up the pace, his hand resting on his side as we approached the suburban, then crouched in the weeds—his grip bringing me down with him.
"This thing?" I scowled. "It looks like Tetanus on wheels."
His eyes flashed a warning. "Wait here, Ava. And I swear to God—"
"I won't do anything."
He crab-walked toward the side of the suburban and tested the handle. The door opened with a faint creak, and he slid inside.
I could leave.
He'd never know.
My knees twitched as I shuffled the direction we'd come.
Can I make it back to my car?
I rolled my eyes.
How would I drive?
Fuck.
Bowing my arms outward, I shifted my hands beneath my butt and shimmied them forward, my arms hitching on my hips.
Come on.
Stupid wide hips.
I inched my elbows one side at a time until they hit my knees.
Moments later, the engine coughed to life, and my foot slipped through the tight loop of my arms. My stomach tightened, my heart racing as my second foot slipped free.
I let loose a quiet squeal, staring at my hands in the dim light.
I'm free.
"Good job."
Jumping, the blood draining from my face as I glanced up at his menacing wide form. "Just let me go."
"No can do." Nate bent over and dragged my ass from the weeds, bringing me to my feet, my eyes level with his. "We're in this together."
A softness formed around his eyes as he opened the passenger door and placed me inside then rounded the front and hopped into the driver's seat.
"This is crazy. You know that, right?"
"It’s necessary. Now buckle up. Since you seem to be so resourceful."
I shifted, heat rising in my cheeks as I pulled the belt across my chest. "And what about my car?"
“It's become a well-oiled jackpot for someone in need.”
I grumbled under my breath as he drove down the road with his lights off, then flipped them on once we hit the freeway.
"What do you think is going to happen with me, Nate?"
"All I know is that if you stick with me, you'll be alright."
Silence fell between us, nausea burning the back of my throat as I watched the scenery run by.
Putting my faith in him was a fool's errand, but what other choice did I have?
He was my saving grace or my ultimate downfall—either way, he was the storm I had no choice to stand in.
The car slowed as we pulled into the cracked, weed-riddled lot of a rundown motel. The neon sign buzzed in the silence, with half the letters burned out so it read “ote.”
I shook my head. "We aren't staying here."
"Sometimes we have to do things that make us uncomfortable."
"You've been making me do plenty of things that are uncomfortable. Why couldn't we have stayed in the hotel that I spent good money on?"
Dim yellow porch lights lined the row of doors, illuminating the sagging overhang above them. A rusted vending machine leaned against the wall near the office, and the parking lot looked like it had lost a war, with deep cracks and potholes splitting the asphalt.
"Because if I could find you there, so could they."
My wrists twitched against the cable ties, and I winced. My breathing hitched as I glanced at Nate, his jaw set like stone as he steered us into a space beside the office.
This was it.
The place where people disappeared.
The kind of place you only saw in nightmares—or crime documentaries.
What if he wanted to make me think I was safe?
That’s how he worked—calculated, patient, always two steps ahead. He gave me the illusion of control, of hope, just to make it easier when he finally made his move.
"You really are going to kill me, aren't you?"
"Jesus, Ava. I saved your life." He unstrapped his seat belt and then mine. "Don't you understand that?"
"Whatever you have to say to convince yourself you're doing the right thing." My words cut sharp, a dare more than a statement.
The weight of his gaze crushed me. “The right thing? This isn’t about right or wrong, Ava. It’s about keeping you alive, whether you hate me in the end or not.”
"Why?"
He shrugged. "We don’t have time to unpack my reasoning. Just know it’s the only thing keeping you breathing right now." With a deep sigh, he leaned into his seat. "Now, am I going to have to restrain you, or will you sit tight while I get us a room?"
"Whatever." I looked away from him and sunk into my grimy, stained seat that had seen too many dirt-covered hands.
"That's what I thought." He grabbed my bound wrists and pulled them into his lap.
"Stop. What are you doing?" I tugged, but his strength kept me in place with one hand as he ripped out another tie from his inner jacket and looped it through my wrists.
"It's temporary." Strapping my wrists to the steering wheel, he opened the door. "Now stay put."
Nate stepped out and shut the door while I tugged, the cable ties cutting into my tender flesh. "God dammit, Nate," I screamed as I jerked. "Let me out of here."
My ribs burned as I stretched over the console, his back disappearing into the office.
Such an asshole.
Who does he think he is?
I'm not putting up with this.
I'm going to give him a piece of my mind when he gets back.
A knock on my window jolted me out of my thoughts. Nate stood at the window, dangling a room key between two fingers and a half-smile on his face.
"You're an ass," I said as he opened the door.
"And yet, here we are. Fate must really hate you." Reaching in across me, he snipped the tie and hauled me out of the car and toward the first motel room at the beginning of the U-shaped building.
"I’ll scream all night long until someone comes."
Nate gave a low, gruff laugh as he slid the key into the lock. "Sweetheart, we’ve been down that road before." The door opened, and he pulled me through the door, slamming it in place.
I walked in, my hands hanging in front of me, and glanced around.
The fluid-swollen dresser sat against the wall across from the single queen bed with a seventies-style purple and blue, threadbare comforter.
I'm not sleeping there.
My stomach twisted as I moved toward the bathroom.
The yellow dingy tiles climbed the walls like poison ivy searching for sunlight beneath a thick canopy. Grime sat thick in the corners as though mops had become a non-existent feature in this part of the state.
I grimaced, my lips curling up in disgust.
"Let's not create a commotion, shall we?" He approached me without an ounce of guilt in his step.
Was he toying with me?
The nerve...
"I'm not sleeping here." I turned his way and glared. "I'll get five different STIs and at least some sort of bug."
He raised a mocking brow. "I didn't take you for a priss."
Snorting, I shook my head. "I had better sleeping accommodations when I was poor, working three jobs and attending college full time."
"I'll explain everything. I need you to not act like I've kidnapped you and forced you to stay in a trashy hotel."
" Ha . At least you're aware of what you're doing." I raised a brow. "Guess we can rule out insanity for your trial."
"Always with the sarcasm." He withdrew the long knife he'd used to release me from the steering wheel. "Do you promise?"
"No." I took a step back with each of his approaching.
"Say you promise me, Ava."
"No."
"Ava." He gave me a pointed glare, his brow raised, causing a delicious warmth to rush through me.
"Nate."
"Don't make this more difficult than it needs to be."
Look away.
He's the enemy.
I turned my eyes toward the only exit harboring my freedom. "You know what's bullshit?"
He stepped into my line of view. "Besides the fact that I'm staying in a zero-star motel, stealing cars, and running under the radar, all for you?"
"Yeah, besides that." I moved to the right, towards the dark brown corduroy chair, its wooden arms scratched up. "I trusted you and opened up about things I haven't told anyone. And all you did was concoct some bullshit story to get closer to me."
He fixed the point of his knife to his fingertip and tsked. "Is that right?" He stepped closer, his knife pointed towards me. "Is that how low you think of me?"
"I do now." I swallowed hard, the lump choking me like ghostly hands wrapped around my throat. My calves hit the chair, and I shied away.
"Alright." He leaned in, his knife sliding closer to me. "That's unfortunate."
I closed my eyes and grit my teeth, my eyes pinched tight as I sucked in a heavy breath through my nose. "Just shoot me. Make it quick."
"Ava, for Christ's sake." He growled, rolling his eyes. "Stop it."
His hands wrapped around my wrist, and the cables jerked against my skin.
Snap.
His grip fell away, and my arms dropped to my sides. I peeked with one eye, then both.
Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I glanced up at him. "You're letting me go?"
A scowl formed across his face. "Don't be ridiculous."
I rubbed the tender flesh and steeled myself for the shoe to drop. Mildew filled my sinuses, the scent thick and dirty.
"If you don't scream or try to run, I'll explain everything to you." He released a heavy sigh. "Got it?"
I clenched my jaw and nodded.
"You're not going to be happy, but trust me, you don't want me as your enemy."
"Nate, you infiltrated my life under false pretenses. You're already my enemy." I gritted my teeth, my heart slamming against my chest for an escape.
He let out a cold laugh. "Things were different then than they are now." He sat on the edge of the bed and motioned for me to take a seat in the chair behind me. "Relax and listen to me. There's too much information to get through."
I glanced back at the chair, scowled, then sat on the slightest edge of the flat cushion, the wood cross beam digging into my buttocks.
"Pay attention because I don't like to repeat myself." Nate's soft side hardened before my eyes. "Understand?"
I dug my front teeth into my inner cheek. "Don't leave anything out." My arms crossed over my rancid stomach as a faint smirk crossed over his face.
"My name is Nathaniel Barlowe, and I work for N-D-E-I-A. A covert agency."
My heart stopped, and my knee bounced.
"I was assigned—"
"First," I held my hand up, "what does N-D-E-I-A stand for?"
" National Defense and External Intelligence Agency." He scowled. "Don't interrupt."
I hung my head.
"There's a program within the agency that searches the internet for topics that have been flagged as 'something of interest' or 'dangerous information'. It was designed to help the government keep an eye on trending topics or things that may be troublesome to national security." His jaw clenched, his eyes shifting to the ceiling. "You happened to start digging into a topic of interest, then requested a FOIA, which set off alarm bells loud enough that the keeper of Hell's gates responded."
"So you're saying American citizens are being spied on by our own government?" I scoffed and shook my head. "That's a direct violation of our constitutional rights."
Nate stood and shoved his hand through his hair. "I'm not here to debate the laws with you. I'm trying to help you out, so do you mind?" He held his hand out, palm up as if asking me to place my silence on the platter of his outstretched hand.
"Fine." I leaned back against the chair, then recoiled when sanity struck me, reminding me where exactly I was. "Can I at least write this down?"
He gave a sharp incline of his chin as he stalked toward the swollen dresser, swiping the notepad off the surface, my eyes drifting toward the exit.
"Thank you."
"You won't make it far."
I tore my gaze away and gawked up at him. " Huh?"
"You keep looking at the door." His head moved side to side. "Even if you do make it out the door, where do you expect to go?"
"I haven’t thought that far ahead yet."
"Well, I have." Sat in his previous spot on the bed, his finger tapping against his knee. "You'd get, maybe, to the office door. If the strung-out clerk happens to see you and makes a scene, I wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet through his head. That is, if he's even willing to help you. Sleazy people like him tend to look the other way."
"You'd kill someone?"
His chest rose and fell with a quiet exhale. "I'm a Marine who's been deployed to the remote hellholes of Afghanistan and Iraq where the only thing we did was eat, sleep, and breathe survival."
I gulped.
"Does that answer your question?"
"That was different. That was war. This is an innocent person."
He let out a cold, derisive chuckle, his eyes like steel. “Survival’s the only rule that matters, Ava. And if you put that at risk, I wouldn’t think twice about eliminating the threat. No hesitation. No remorse.”
"You're not the person I thought you were."
He nodded. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. I may have been assigned to you, but I was nothing but real with you."
"Okay, so you get put on my case to do what?"
Nate crossed his arms over his chest. "To observe. Deter your investigation at any costs." He smirked and let loose a laugh. "And despite what you think, you were moving quickly. You just hadn't put the pieces together."
I raised my head, the dots connecting. "Until the Mayor's safe."
He looked away, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Yeah."
"Okay, if you were supposed to stop me, why did you help me?"
"I made you think I was helping." He cocked his head to the side as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "But really, the plan was for you to get caught in his office, hold you up in legal trouble for a while, which would derail your story."
"Wow." My heart froze over, a chill sweeping over my spine.
"I know." He hung his head. "I battled with that the entire time we planned it, but I had a job to do, and you weren't going to let up."
"So why are you helping me now? If you even are."
"I saw my boss' name in the documents."
"Who's your boss?"
"Keith Brentwood."
"No." I jumped up and pressed my back against the wall, dropping the notepad and pen. "Holy shit." My hand sunk to my churning belly and pressed my fingertips into my empty belly. "I think I'm going to be sick again."
"Take some deep breaths."
"Right." My gaze locked on his, a softness creeping back into those cool brown eyes. "Let me just breathe all my problems away like in Lamaze class."
"Okay, have you been? That wasn't in your file."
"What?" The corner of my lips turned down. "There is so much to unpack from that single sentence."
"Relax, my little recluse." He stood and towered over me. "I was kidding."
"Assuming I’ve been pregnant before or that there’s a file on me?” My voice was sharp, steady, even as I moved closer to the bathroom, putting a safe distance between us. “Because right now, I can’t decide which one is more offensive—or more concerning."
"The La—"
"And also, how can you joke right now? My whole life is more upside down than a freaking Topsy-Turvy planter."
"A what?"
"Forget it." I backed into the bathroom, his broad chest three steps away from me. "I need to use the restroom."
"We're never going to get through this." Nate ran his hands through his short hair with a growl, putting his back to me.
I latched the door shut.
I'm screwed.
Leaning against the sink, its surface marred with water stains circling the drain, I stared into the mirror. My unrecognizable reflection staring back at me with swollen, red eyes.
A few days ago, life was good—simple, even. I was wrapped in his arms, the weight of the world momentarily lifted as we brainstormed, laughed, and I let go of years' worth of burdens. For the first time in what felt like forever, I'd savored the kind of normalcy I’d forgotten existed.
I twisted the faucet, the squeak of metal breaking the silence before a torrent of unaerated water burst forth, splattering against every surface. Tucking my hands beneath the water, I splashed the tepid liquid across my burning cheeks.
"I found out my boss was responsible for what happened to me and my teammates in Afghanistan."
My hands froze on my face, and I turned the water off, holding my breath for more.
"When I left that morning, I said I had to fix the neighbor's hot water heater, but really, I went into the agency to find out if what you'd discovered was true."
A thunk hit the door.
"I thought if I could dig up something to blow your theory out of the water, it might give me the edge to do what needed to be done. Turns out that was another damn pipe dream."
Grabbing the thrown-in towel from below the sink, I patted my face dry and sunk to the ground, my back against the closed door.
Don't engage.
Don't fall for it.
It's a trick to suck me in.
My stomach cramped, and my heart leapt in my chest. "What happened in Afghanistan?"
"We were sent in to acquire HVT's and conduct a raid—"
"Nate, I'm not military, so cut the jargon, what's HVT?"
"High Value Target." Shuffling sounded on the other side of the door. "The mission was supposed to be simple and, at the time, we were under the impression there was minimal resistance in the area."
"And that turned out not to be true?"
"No. Apparently there was intel given to Colonel Keith Brentwood at the time that let him know about twenty insurgents had moved into the area and set up shop a few days prior."
"He didn't tell you..." I rolled my lips between my teeth and covered my mouth with my hand, my head resting on the door.
"He omitted that information and sent us in without it." Nate cleared his throat. "I lost six good men that day."
Tears burned my eyes, my heart cracking. "Why are you telling me this?"
"I want you to see that I used to be against you, but now we're on the same side."
Standing, I jerked the door open and glanced down at his sitting figure, his left leg straight, his other bent with his arm resting against it.
"You expect me to believe that?"
I stomped past him and picked up my notepad as he jumped to a standing position. "It's true."
"You've lied to me before. How am I supposed to believe this?"
Nate jerked his shirt up and pointed to the scar running across his rib cage. "This happened when Sergeant James Baker triggered an IED, setting off a series of explosions that killed my men and threw me into the building beside it."
I shook my head, a tear dribbled down my cheek. "I don't believe you."
He shrugged off his leather jacket and pointed to the tattoo on his forearm. "First deployment." Bold, black letters spelled out Death Before Dishonor . “First tattoo. Figured it fit.”
Then he yanked off his shirt and showed me his back.
The tattoo on his back was massive, impossible to miss. The American flag waved proudly in the background, its colors vivid and alive. Beneath it, six shadowed soldiers stood at attention, saluting. Their shadowed bodies stood in sharp contrast against the backdrop of white headstones that stretched endlessly into the horizon, growing smaller and smaller until they disappeared completely.
He didn’t say anything else.
He didn’t have to.
That tattoo told the whole story.
My fingers brushed against the vivid red, white, and blue as I hung my head. "I'm sorry."
Nate turned abruptly, his grip firm but gentle as he took my hand in his. He pressed my palm to his face, his skin warm against mine. “I didn’t tell you the story so you’d pity me,” he said, his voice low, raw, almost a growl.
Before I could respond, he turned his lips to my palm, brushing a kiss there with surprising tenderness, then placed my hand back against his cheek, holding it like it anchored him.
“I told you because I need you to understand something.” His eyes darkened. “We’re in this together now. No matter what. You and me.” His grip tightened, and the shadows in his gaze grew darker, colder. “And I want that bastard six feet under. I don’t care how he gets there, but he’s not walking away from this.”
It's a trap.
I yanked my hand from his but held my ground.
"You just walked into the agency and found this information without any consequences?" I shook my head with a scoff. "You expect me to believe that?"
"There were consequences." He cupped my cheeks and drew closer, his heat penetrating through my clothes, his bare chest an unnecessary distraction. "Dire ones."
"What?"
"I've had my access revoked, and I've been thrown off your case."
I gulped the golf ball-sized lump in my throat. "They caught you."
He nodded, his lips closer than ever, his breath a light dusting on my skin. "I have a bad feeling about all of this, Ava. But there's nothing I won't do to keep you safe."
"I want to believe you."
"Then believe. But I'm here no matter what you think about me." His lips brushed against mine in a chaste kiss, his tongue keeping to my lips and no further. "But whatever you do, don't hate me. Please. I can't stomach it."
Leaning into him, I soaked in his masculine scent, his confession spurring a spark of hope. "I don't hate you." The words spilled from my lips before my brain processed their meaning. "But I need time."
Nate stamped another gentle kiss on my lips, then released me. "Anything you need."
I let out an exhausted sigh. "Let's start with the man in my apartment..."
"Most likely the same from the alleyway."
I crossed my arms as a chill forged down my flesh. "From the agency?"
"Yes." Nate grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head, hiding the tattoos.
Why hadn't I asked more about them before?
"And so they've given up on trying to stray me away from writing the story, to outright murder me?"
"I think that might be partially my fault."
"Wonderful." My mind wandered back to Kane Rogers in our makeshift interview. He was more paranoid than I was, but it seemed he had every right to be.
Panic struck my lungs, knocking the wind from me as though I'd jumped from a ten-story window. "What was it called again—the agency—what was the name?"
"N-D-E-I-A."
"Yeah, that. I've heard that name before."
Shit.
I grabbed a strand of hair and paced along the bedside, the strands pinching off my fingertip.
"Where?" He frowned and sat in the dingy chair I'd occupied.
"In prison."
He raised a brow.
"I went to the prison to interview an inmate whose name was left on a sheet of paper at my door—exactly how I got your address—he asked me if anyone had inserted themselves into my life recently... I'd stupidly said no because I had bumped into you. "
"Yeah, that was part of my training." He crossed his leg over, resting his ankle on his knee. "What was the inmate’s name?"
"Kane Rogers." I chewed the inner part of my lip, my feet never stopping as I brainstormed. "He'd mentioned that I was on their radar, but he didn't tell me what the agency was."
"I'm surprised you didn't write it down."
"The interview was a little rushed. We only had two minutes, at best." I stopped pacing. "Do you think they killed him? He's dead now, Nate. He was worried they were going to get to him. They'd tried and failed the first time." My chest tightened, and my air cut off in short bursts. "Oh God." My eyes widened, and Nate stood. "If they got to him in solitary confinement, they can get to me too."
Nate's arms wrapped around me, his hand cupping the back of my head as I fell into his chest, the air thin as though I'd hiked through Mount Everest.
"Shhh." His hand rubbed up and down my spine, his arms strong around me. "There's one thing he didn't have when he was in there."
"What's that?" My eyes burned, and I hiccupped as I buried my face into him.
"Me."
"What if you find it's too much of a hassle?"
"Hey?" He pulled away and tipped my chin up with his finger. "Haven't I made it clear enough yet? You're mine, my little recluse." He bent over and picked up the pen and paper, swiped my tear off my cheek with his thumb, then handed me the notepad. "Now, you have a story to tell, and I have the missing pieces to get it done."
I glanced down, staring at the little notes I'd made before.
"So, what do you say? Are you going to work with me?"