I hear the unmistakable sound of a zipper, and I whirl on him. “What are you doing?”
He’s still fully dressed in his shirt and slacks, but he laughs, holding a little pouch. “Taking my anxiety medicine.”
My confusion must be tattooed across my face.
“What? You think thieves can’t suffer from anxiety? It’s reserved solely for the good ones?”
I’m not sure what to say to that. I’m also… uh oh. Does he regularly mix sleeping pills with anxiety meds, or did I just kill him? I’ve been trying to do that since I got here, but I didn’tactuallymean to kill him. I bite down hard on my lip. Is it getting hotter in here? He wouldn’t have sleeping pills in his house if the two were a dangerous combination, right?
I take a breath, calming my racing heart. “It’s just, it’s… you’re so confident and carefree.”
His brows fly up. “Was that a compliment?”
“No.”
He gives me a sad smile. “Well, I’m not. Not all the time, anyway.”
I don’t want to know. I won’t ask. It doesn’t make him less of a criminal, but maybe it makes him more… human? Why didn’t he ever tell me? Though, why would he? I’m just an FBI agent, trying to bring him to justice. Hardly the person one trusts with such vulnerabilities.
“How long—” I clamp my lips shut. “Nope, sorry. Never mind. Don’t answer that.”
But he does. “Always.” He scrubs a hand over his five o’clock shadow. “I was never enough for my parents. It messed with me, I guess. When I was fifteen, my dearest friend disappeared, and I feared it was my fault.” He pauses, and my heart stutters. I study the shelf on the opposite wall. The eagle statue and the painting of the waterfall. Anywhere and everywhere to avoid his eyes. “It got worse after that. Then there was Scarlett.”
Right. Scarlett. His girlfriend. The woman he loved. I drop my head to my pillow and drag in a breath of air.
“Well…” I clear my throat. “I’m, uh, glad you have help.”
He kicks off his shoes and lies on the bed, rolling onto his side toward me. “Are you?”
I swallow. “Of course.”
“Because you’ve grown fond of me?” I can’t see his face because of the pillow wall, but I can feel his smirk, his confidence like he can see my destiny, and it involves me and him.
“No.”
He yawns. “One of these days, maybe I’ll believe you.”
He claps his hands and the lights go off. It should be more relaxing, but it’s not. It’s too dark, and much too quiet. There are no sounds, no light. Only a tension in the air and the sound of his breathing. I swear I can hear his heartbeat, too. No wait, that’s mine.
Why is it racing?
I tuck my gun under my pillow and adjust my body.
I need to stick with my plan. As soon as he falls asleep, I’m out of here. I close my eyes while I wait for him to drift off.
And wait.
And…
My eyelids practically groan as I force them open. A heavy weight is on my chest, and I can’t remember where I am. I blink repeatedly, trying to focus on something. Anything. Is that a clock on the wall?
No, it can’t be. It says it’s one…
In the afternoon.
What on earth? There are no windows in this forsaken cave, so I can’t confirm, but everything feels… wrong.
The weight on my chest moves, and I scream.
