Chapter Nine #2
“It shouldn’t be. Unless you heard it from one of the guys who tried to snatch me at the cafe?” I suggest, leaning back in the chair to feign calm when my nerves are going off like fireworks under my skin. If he is telling the truth and no one visited, then how the hell would he know?
Tom rockets upward, leaning towards my chair, eyes wide with surprise and concern. “Someone tried to snatch you?” he barks, then winces and clutches his side. He’s a talented liar, or he genuinely didn’t know. I can’t tell which it is, and that means I can’t trust him either.
I shrug, playing it off. “Meh, tried and failed. So how did you know about HU?”
He stares at me for a moment, as if wondering whether to tell me. When he eventually makes up his mind, one word comes out. “Sylvie.”
“But you said…”
He sits back against the pillows, slower this time and being deliberately gentle with his wounded left side. “She wasn’t here. I didn’t lie.”
“Then how?”
“She messaged me. Said you were heading out to an interview and asked if I knew where so she could come and surprise you. Something about commiserating or celebrating, depending on how it went.” He shrugs but only down his right side, suggesting he’s hurt himself more than he’s letting on.
“How would you know where my meeting would be?” I ask.
“Exactly what I said to her! No one tells me anything these days. I told her to call Ben. He’s got his nose in everything.
If there’s something happening at Trevainne, Ben will know when, where, who, and how it will affect him.
” Tom says this as if he’s cautioning me about his friend, but is his warning in my best interest or his?
It speaks poorly of the brotherhood Ben and he supposedly share, but then Ben barely trusts Tom too.
I wonder what could have come between them to spark such distrust?
None of these questions help and neither does Tom’s response.
From my experience with Ben, I’m certain he’d have overheard Aiden and Dax’s plans for me, but would he tell Sylvie or anyone else?
Is he the leak? No, why save me if he set up the snatch?
Sylvie then? Did she find out and warn someone else?
Why? How would she even have contacted Franz?
None of this makes sense. More importantly, Trainor sold me out. He admitted it.
So, why do I even suspect Ben or Sylvie at all?
Because something about all this is off. Like bad eggs and week-old garbage, it stinks.
I ask a follow-up. “Have you heard from her since then?”
“No.”
My stomach sinks. If she arrived after I ran, if she actually found out where to go, could she have been taken instead? I drag my phone from my pocket and message both Aiden and Dax in a group conversation.
Might have an issue. Sylvie’s not at the hospital. She might have tried to meet me at Deja Brew yesterday.
Ben just called. How do you know she came to the coffee shop?
Tom, she asked him where I’d be.
Why?
Asking myself that same question.
Aiden’s coming to pick you up. Don’t leave Tom’s room. Don’t trust anyone but Aiden.
Got it.
“I presume they’re on their way?” Tom asks with a sigh.
“Something like that.”
I stare at Tom until he grows uncomfortable and begins to fuss with his blankets. Only when I’ve formulated my question, do I open my mouth to ask it.
“Tom?” His head flicks up, his green eyes landing directly on mine. “Are you going to sell me out?”
The question takes him by surprise. His mouth pinches while he goes over what I’ve said again in his mind.
I see the moment he realises what I’m really asking; his eyes widen, and there is a split-second emotion close to sympathy shining there.
He composes himself—jaw firm, eyes firmer—before answering.
“No, Jules, never. You saved my life. I owe you.” He’s trying hard to mean what he is saying, but I’m not sure who he is trying to convince more, me or him?
“The doctors saved your life. You don’t know me from the next stranger.
You were up to something that night at Olive Tower and were taking matters into your own hands, getting shot for the trouble.
You haven’t said who shot you. You haven’t said why you were there.
You’re protecting someone else, and I can’t help but wonder if owing me is actually a conflict of interest?
You can’t say you’re looking out for me and protect the person who put us both in the shit at the same time. You get that, right?”
“I…I don’t remember who…I didn’t see the person.” His eyes flick away. Lips tighten. Lie. That was the first outright lie he’s told me since meeting him.
“I don’t believe you. You remembered me well enough, recalling our conversation that night. You also pretended to be asleep or unconscious when we visited you after recovery from surgery; don’t think I missed that little nugget. You are avoiding something or protecting something or someone.”
“I guess you think you have me all figured out?”
“No. Not at all. I’m trying to figure out if I’m eventually going to become collateral damage in whatever game you are playing.”
“It’s not a game.”
“Fine. In whatever war you’re fighting. Game or war, in the end the result is the same for me.”
“I never intended for you or anyone outside to get wrapped up in this.”
“Few people intend to get shot either. Shit happens. I need to know if being around you or associating with you is safe.” I hear my words out loud and scoff. “Forget it. I already know the answer.”
“I can keep you safe. I can keep you out of this,” he argues. His desperation suggests he believes it too. I don’t think Tom realises how much trouble he’s caused. He’s delusional if he thinks he can erase what is already done.
“They think I know what was in that envelope.” I drop the truth like a bomb and watch it detonate in his eyes. The panic. The fear. The resignation.
“Fuck!”
“Dax has it now, but they think I know what’s in it,” I continue, so he gets a clue of just how fucked I am.
“I’ll get the word out that you don’t. I’ll clear it.” Delusional for sure unless he’s really in league with Franz?
“With whom? How? Are they even going to believe you when Dax has a contingent of guards following me around?” As I say it, a thought occurs to me.
“That makes me seem pretty important, right?” I ask, but I’m talking to myself now.
I’m realising just what my actions might look like to someone on the outside.
“Then I get a HU education out of it. Me, a nobody from the Vale. I’m fairly sure no one will believe a word anyone says to defend me when it looks like I’m blackmailing Dax. ”
Fuck, I’ve made myself look guilty. I’ve secured the target to my back. Damn, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.
“What I don’t understand is why they took Sylvie,” Tom mumbles.
“Might they have thought she was me?”
“No, everyone knows who Sylvie Trevainne is. As heiress to the Trevainne fortune she gets her face in the headlines, even when Dax tries to keep her out of the public eye.” Tom runs a hand through his now dishevelled hair, like he’s been pulling at it, and I just haven’t noticed. He’s clearly worried.
“They also had a description of me when they came looking at the bakery,” I admit only to catch Tom’s brow raise in question. “Long story.”
“Part of that escaping capture thing you hinted at?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you can tell me when we get you out of trouble. Like on our first date. It’ll be a good icebreaker.” He grins, but it lacks his usual teasing. I get the sense he’s trying to downplay his concern, but is it for my sake or his own?
“I’m not sure how you can even joke about things like that when Sylvie is missing. That girl idolises you.”
Tom huffs. “I’m not joking. I can’t help how Sylvie feels about me. Trust me, I’ve done everything I can to be nothing but a good big brother to her. She doesn’t get it, but she will one day, and I don’t want her to feel stupid overreaching for something that will never happen.”
“I’m quite sure you could start with that. If she knows your answer is never, then I’d bet she’d stop trying. Girls have more pride than you think, and we rarely demean ourselves for someone who doesn’t want us.”
“Girls with entitlement don’t give up so easily. Their pride tells them they can have what they want even if they have to break everything to get it.”
Though the entitlement claim rings true, the destructive insinuation seems off with what I’ve seen so far. “Sylvie didn’t come across that way to me…”
“I’ve known her since we were kids. Trust me. Sylvie will be anyone she needs to be as long as she’s getting everything she wants too.”
I let Tom’s warning swim in my head while I wait for Aiden.
It sheds a new spin on our shopping trip for sure because Sylvie made sure that day was as much about her as it was about helping me.
Did that make me distrust her, or did it simply play into my suspicions about her loneliness?
Was I used to get her a day out shopping and spending money?
A day out of the compound? Some fun driving around and fending off the bodyguards?
Yes.
But I knew all that.
Does it hurt me for Sylvie to take what she can get out of my being here?
No.
Does she deserve to get picked up by Franz’s men in my place?
Absolutely not.
I still think Tom’s best course of action is honesty.
She might hate him for a while, but she’d come around once she realised he would always be what he always was.
A brother figure. Family. Still, it isn’t my place to get in the middle of their situation.
I have enough on my plate with Aiden and Dax, and the newly discovered fact that Ben can make me blush.
Fuck. Life is such a shitshow.
My phone shudders in my palm and throws a twinge of pain through my wrist. The incoming beep sounds off a second after.
Meet me on basement parking level 2. Take the centre elevator straight down. I’ll wait for you at the bottom, Tiger.
“Looks like our time’s up, huh?” Tom nods to the phone in my hand is if he read the message for himself. “Got to admit, I’ll miss the company, but for once, I agree with my brother. It’s safer for you to be at the compound for a while.”
“I’ll check in on you again soon.”
“Promises, promises.”
“I’ll keep my word, but I’m going to need you to quit being an arsehole. I don’t pander to spoiled rich boys. If you hear from Sylvie or if she asks any more questions that seem out of place, call Aiden or Dax.”
“But not you?”
“Are you asking me for my number?”
“Would it bother you if I had it?”
“I guess not.”
“Good. I’ll get it from you now.” He holds out his hand, and I hesitantly pass my phone to him. He keys in his number and dials himself, then huffs in annoyance. “They’ve blocked your number. You’ll have to tell it to me instead.”
“I don’t actually know it.”
“What?”
“I never needed to…it’s new…I…”
“Don’t worry. You have mine now. You can message it to me when you figure it out.”
“Right. Well…”
“I get it; you’ve got to go.”
“Stay safe, Tom.”
“You too, Jules.”