Chapter Eighteen #2
He shakes himself out of his stupor as his face scrunches in distaste.
“What? No, repeat what you just said…why? Leave? Is he even okay to…Fine, but not right now. Tell him he stays there for two more weeks, or I’ll put him in a recovery centre in another city.
” Dax huffs loudly and paces back and forth between the kitchen and the elevator, as though debating whether to leave or stay.
“Figure out the logistics of a medical setup at the compound. Arrange for a ground floor room to host his machines and stuff. Tell him it’ll take time to arrange and stall the little dipshit.
Does Sylvie know about this? Fine. Make the calls.
I’ll be down with Aiden and Jules soon. Yes, she’s fucking coming back, Frank.
I’m bringing her home.” Dax shoots a look in my direction, as if asking for my belated permission.
As much as I’d rather stay out of this bullshit, he needs Aiden back, so I nod my agreement.
Home.
The compound is as much my home as Eric’s apartment now, in that neither offers sanctuary. I’m not wanted at either of them. Eventually, I’ll be forced to leave the compound just like I had to leave Eric’s. If the place I grew up in isn’t home…then is anywhere?
I find myself yearning for the privacy of this hidden loft.
If only I could stay here with Dax and Aiden, away from the Trevainne bullshit, away from Eric’s bullshit, too.
Sure, it’s a pipedream. Even Aiden doesn’t get to enjoy this place.
What was it he said about coming here? Once in a blue moon.
If he can’t escape from Trevainne, UACT, and Diverprop, then what are my chances?
How do I stay under the radar, even in a place as well protected as this?
“What’s wrong?” Dax asks, stepping forward and rubbing the skin between my brows. “You’ll get wrinkles if you keep frowning so hard. What has you worried?”
“I was just thinking that it’d be nice to stay here for a while. Or better yet just vanish for a bit. Go somewhere quiet, free from all the trouble, and just escape for a little while,” I admit, grabbing the coffee Aiden slides across the counter.
“If you’d prefer that…” Dax looks to Aiden.
Aiden shrugs. “I can arrange a safe house. Set you up with a new ID, but you’d have to leave everything behind. Harrison, us, college, work…”
What? No! I shake my head, raising my hand to stop Aiden from talking. “I don’t mean fucking witness relocation. Jeez, I mean with you. Both of you. Just take a timeout for a while. I know it’s not possible, but I was just thinking it’d be nice.”
Both men seem to relax at that. Aiden’s shoulders sinking and Dax’s fist loosening his grip on the bag in his hands. I spy the Butchers and Bakers logo on the front and know there’ll be something tasty inside.
“Then why the frown?” Dax asks as I tiptoe to look in the bag.
“Because reality likes to beat down my daydreams. I can’t even have a nice thought without talking myself out of it.” I choose an almond croissant from the selection and raise it to Dax in a cheers salute.
“We’ll go away as soon as you’re clear. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” he offers.
“Sure,” I mumble around a mouthful of flaky pastry.
“I mean it,” he urges.
I nod and smile despite not giving in to the hope.
I won’t hold him to it either. Only a minute ago, he was fighting with Aiden over my bullshit.
Dax seemingly doesn’t know where he stands or how he feels on any given day, but I appreciate that he wants to make me happy.
“I’d like that. I guess we’d better figure out how to get me clear. ”
“We’re working on it,” Aiden adds with a sympathetic smile. The difference between them strikes again. Ever practical, Aiden knows he can’t make promises that rely on shitty people making good decisions. The thought is depressing, and we have bigger things to worry about. Like Sylvie.
“Did the team figure out whether Sylvie was assaulted?” I ask, changing the topic back to her and taking the spotlight off myself.
“She refused a kit,” Dax informs us. “We only have her word that she wasn’t.”
“Why do you ask?” Aiden questions, scrutinising my face as if he can already see what I’m only just beginning to suspect.
“A few things have been bugging me,” I admit.
“Go on,” Aiden presses, pulling out a chocolate croissant and halving it with me.
“Firstly,” I begin, pulling the pastry apart between my fingers. “She attacked me when I woke her. I figured she must have thought I was one of them, but that would suggest it wasn’t the first time she’d been woken abruptly.”
“She woke up and attacked?”
“Actually, she said, ‘They’re mine!’ and attacked. Then she withdrew a little and mumbled Celeste’s name.”
“Jules’s darker hair, perhaps?” Aiden asks Dax. He nods as if he agrees that that is the most logical reason for her confusion.
“So, do you think it was instinctual or a nightmare? After she thought you were Celeste, did she calm down?” Aiden asks, encouraging me to continue.
“Yeah. Though she didn’t seem pleased to see me. There was residue by her glass too. Amphetamines or sleeping tablets?” I ponder aloud. “Were they the reason she might not have known me? Was she even aware of where she was when I woke her?”
“It’s possible. We’re having the residue tested. We’ll know later today what she was given,” Dax clarifies.
“The shower was wet too. At first, I thought she’d showered to remove evidence, but she didn’t have enough time for that. So, who used her shower? Common sense suggests the guy in the towel…”
Aiden nods. “You think he was sleeping in there with her?”
“Yes, or just that he’d been in the room. Sleeping or not,” I agree, hoping to take supposition out of my thinking. I didn’t want to taint my suspicions before I’d considered all the facts. “She was also wearing her own clothes, not naked. Would a rapist be that considerate?”
I glance at both men. Neither can answer that question, but we’re all thinking the same thing.
If she had been sexually assaulted, the likelihood of her being allowed to clothe herself at all was slim, though not zero.
It seems oddly considerate for ‘attackers’ to let her keep her belongings with her.
Not to mention letting her charge her phone…
“Can you recall the image of the room?” Aiden asks.
“I think so.”
“Was the bed dishevelled enough for two people to have slept in it or one?”
“How is she going to remember something as trivial as that, given the situation?” Dax grumbles, unaware of Aiden and my conversation about my memory.
I close my eyes and recall my first recollection of the room. “Two. The blanket was folded back purposefully on the left side. Sylvie was still covered up on the right.”
“Did she have her case?”
I run my eyes to where I saw her case against the wall. Despite the image being in my head, with my eyes closed, I might as well still be in the hotel room. “Yes, it was open with the back half leaned up against the wall by the bathroom.”
“Where was her phone?”
Her phone. Did I see her phone? The image grows wispy in my head. I’m overthinking and tainting my memory. I shake my head, open my eyes, and frown at Aiden. “It’s gone.”
“Close your eyes again,” Aiden commands.
I do as he asks. “Tiger, get in there and barricade both of you inside. Don’t come out until I tell you it’s safe.
” He growls in a similar tense voice as he used yesterday.
The words are a little off, but the sentiment puts me straight back in the hotel suite.
I see myself hustle to the room and barricade the door.
I turn and there it is at the bottom of the bed, thrown down lazily.
Her blush-pink case with dangling charms is unmistakable.
“On the bed. The phone was on the bed. The charger was plugged in near the dressing table.”
“So, she had access to it?” Aiden asks.
“Perhaps not. He might have used it or gone through it,” Dax argues.
“But he didn’t take it with him. She had opportunities to get that phone and call for help,” Aiden fires back.
“Unless she was drugged,” Dax defends.
“True.”
“There’s also the possibility that she entered into this consensually,” I offer, my voice quiet as I try to let my thoughts take shape in my head.
She seemed surprised to see me there. She fought tooth and nail to get out of that room and save ‘him,’ but what if she didn’t mean the bodyguard?
What if she meant the guy in the towel? The sexy lingerie sitting on top of her case suggests a planned rendezvous.
The chance that he was sleeping in her bed and showering in her bathroom…
Damn, did we just barge in on her and a boyfriend?
“What if she was there to meet the guy in the towel? Did we make a mistake?”
“No, Connor was beaten six shades of fucked up and broken bones. Why would they do that if it was just a planned hookup?” Dax reasons.
“Then was she catfished? Didn’t realise who she was involved with?” I try.
“Possible,” Aiden agrees.
Another thought occurs to me. “Do either of you know if she’s on the pill?
” The pair of shocked faces staring back at me would be amusing if it weren’t sad.
“Contraception. You know she uses sex as an outlet. Have either of you taken the time to make sure she has access to contraception, regular sexual health screening? Anything?”
“We assumed she…” Dax begins.
“Doesn’t she arrange for that herself?” Aiden asks Dax.
I fight the urge to bang their heads together. “Does she even know how, given that you’re all the examples of adults she has? What about your housekeeper?”
“Mrs Grainger? I have no idea.” Dax shrugs sheepishly.
“Get one of the team to offer her all the above. No rape kit. Just sexual healthcare. Tell her she can book privately if she’d rather keep it discrete.
Give her a few options of reliable clinics.
Tell them to suggest she can ask someone to go with her.
” I snap out orders. How could they have gone so long without making sure she was safe?
Aiden nods to Dax, who calls it in immediately. “Good thinking.”
I want to tell them they seriously dropped the ball on that one, but I continue with my line of thought, so they understand.
“If it was consensual, or if Sylvie has feelings for that guy, however misplaced, she’ll not want to get him in trouble, but she needs to take care of herself. Do you know who he is?”
Dax is the one who answers, disconnecting the call to the trauma team.
“A rich trust fund kid from the Heights. Too fucking old for Sylvie. He must have got a call out somewhere between us nicking his leg with a bullet and the team arriving. The police escorted him straight back to his father; Judge Chisholm, who we’ve had run-ins with before.
” I know exactly who that is, but I don’t want to break my chain of thought by chasing a memory.
It seems strange that he sneaked a call out while Aiden stood over him and Dax’s guys retrieved the other one.
They were under watch the whole time. They weren’t left alone for a second.
The only person afforded privacy was Sylvie.
Did she put out the call? She had the opportunity to do it when I slipped out to check on Aiden.
No. Surely not? Regardless, the team will check her calls in and out.
“What about the guy you’re holding?” I ask instead, determined to get as much of a picture as I can while these two are being so forthcoming.
“Craven,” Dax offers.
He says it as if I should know what that means. “Craven?”
“A death dealer. Works for Franz,” Aiden explains.
“Then this does come back to Franz and me.”
“We don’t know that yet, but it is definitely part of the Diverprop/Trevainne war.”
That’s right. I suddenly feel self-absorbed. This war has been going on for way longer than I’ve been a part of it. “So, you’ll question him, find out why he was there, and then what?”
“Figure out how much trouble Sylvie is in, and how long she’s been involved. See if there’s a way we can use Craven to our advantage. Keep you safe…” Aiden ticks the steps off on his fingers like a mundane to-do list. Something about the everyday nature of my being hunted feels permanent.
“This isn’t ever going to be done, is it?”
“Jules, we’re doing everything we can to keep you free of this,” Dax promises.
“That’s not actually a long list, is it? Of the things you can do? Short of taking Franz down permanently, I’ve got no chance.”
Neither man speaks, and I have my answer. I knew it anyway. Either I disappear permanently or I stay at risk in Harrison City. I don’t like either choice.
“Okay, let’s take this day by day. You both have work to do, and I’d really like to get started on my coursework.
” I might as well make the most out of an unpleasant situation while I still can.
Eventually the winds will change, and I’ll be forced to make a new plan for myself, but for now I can focus on learning while the opportunities present themselves to me.