Page 62 of No Control
I search through the pockets of my jean shorts, fishing out the device, and unlocking the screen. I pull up Emma’s number and hit the call button.
Call failed.
Shaking my head, I try it again, my heart rate picking up in my chest.
Again, the call fails.
“What the hell?” I mumble under my breath as I go to my mom’s contact information. I hit the call button…
And it fails, too.
My brow furrows as I look at my signal in the top right-hand corner of the screen. A chill rolls down my spine. There is none. I power my phone down, and then turn it back on, hoping it’s just some fluke. Maybe it got wet? But the alarms are going off in my head as I replay the way Henry shoved that gun in the back of his waistband.
As it turns back on, there’s still no signal.
I rip Henry’s shirt over my head and get dressed in my own clothes. I glance toward the door, and then rush to it, flipping the lock. I turn back around and take in his room in a whole new light. I go straight to his nightstand, pulling open the top drawer.
Holy shit.
A large blade in a sheath greets me. And a pistol. I shut it and check the second nightstand. Another blade. I slam it shut and head for the desk, jerking on the drawers. They’re locked. I knew that, though. Right?
I don’t even bother with his computer; I don’t have the password.
However, I do return to his nightstand, lacing my fingers around the pistol, tucked away in a holster. I pull it out, and check that there’s one in the chamber. There is. This man lives loaded and ready to go—and I can’t necessarily let myself become suspicious over that thought alone.
I lived that way. Before all my guns went missing.
Tucking the gun back in the holster, I hook it to the front of my shorts backwards, so that it’s hidden by my baggy T- shirt. I swallow hard, knowing that this is probably a terrible idea, stealing a gun from Henry.
But it’s not like I’m going to use it on him—I don't think so anyway.
My mind flashes to the moment I pulled the trigger in Mason’s direction. I push it away, the anxiety threatening to return. I unlock the door, and swing it open, startled to see Jude standing there, his eyes narrowed at me.
“What’re you doing?”
“Um, I was getting dressed?”
“I heard drawers opening.”
“I was putting Henry’s shirt back,” I lie, and I’m pretty sure Jude knows it’s a lie, but he lets me pass by him anyway. “I was thinking about taking Duke for a walk,” I chime, spotting my dog still curled up on the couch.
“I can’t let you do that.”
“Why not?” I demand, a burst of courage coming from nowhere as I spin around to face him. Unlike Henry, he’s not intimidating to me. He’s tall and lanky, and well, comes across like a puppy.
He raises his brow. “Henry doesn’t want you to leave.”
“So you take orders from Henry?”
He purses his lips. “No. He’s my partner, and depending on the moment, sometimes he takes orders from me.”
“Does he listen?”
Jude’s cheeks redden. “Sometimes.”
I can’t help but kind of smile at the embarrassment. It’s almost endearing. “I don’t think he’d listen to me, either.”
“Ha,” Jude snorts, shaking his head. “I think the man would burn down an entire village for you in a heartbeat. All you’d have to do is ask.”
