At his rental car, he opened the door for her, and she had to force herself not to snap that she could do it herself. It was just a door, and she was pretty sure he would open it for anyone he was protecting and that it had nothing to do with their shared past.
He placed her bag on her lap, and as he pulled his hands away, they brushed against her. Even through the layers of clothes, the brief touch seemed to sear her skin, branding it in a way she hated.
How could her body still respond to him when her heart and brain knew better?
Traitorous thing.
It was like Micah felt it, too, at least that’s what his expression said as he nodded at her seatbelt. “Don’t forget to buckle in.”
“I never forget to put my seatbelt on,” she snapped, the moment broken. “Why would I?”
While he didn't give a response, he smiled at her as he closed her door and rounded the car. She could tell from the way his head turned that his gaze was roaming the garage, looking for anything out of place, even though it would be next to impossible to break into Prey.
Still, it brought her back to reality, and Teresa once again reminded herself that there were more serious matters to think about than her hurt feelings from twelve years ago. So she checked her annoyance with Micah and boxed it away. Before he left, she’d confront him about the past, but for now, she needed to stay sharp, aware of her surroundings, and not be a hindrance to Micah protecting her.
The last thing she wanted was to wind up a victim of the trafficking ring.
Especially if it was because she’d been prioritizing her hurt feelings over safety.
Micah got into the car, turned it on, and drove them out of the garage and onto the street. They’d been driving for maybe five minutes before he spoke.
“We can pick something up on the way back to your place, order something when we get there, or I can cook you dinner, but you’re eating something tonight before you go to bed.”
Something about his matter-of-fact tone made her see red. He was speaking like he’d already decided, and it wasn't up for discussion. Treating her like a child who needed an adult to take care of them.
She was no child, and she’d been the one taking care of others for most of her life.
“I’m not hungry,” she snapped, even though she was in fact hungry.
“You need to eat.”
“You don’t get to decide what I do and don’t need.”
“Someone has to, otherwise, you won't take care of yourself at all.”
The fact there was no heat to his words had her drawing up. He didn't sound like he was angry with her, he sounded almost sad. But he didn't sound repentant, and that hurt. When they were teens, he always told her it was his job to take care of her because she took care of everyone else. Only then, he’d left her when she most needed taking care of.
Realizing there was no way she could hold off any longer on having this conversation, she shifted in her seat and fixed Micah with a glare. “Why? Why are you pretending to care now, one way or the other if I'm taking care of myself, when you didn't care enough back then to stay? If you had even called or checked in just once I …” Teresa trailed off, but not because she was overcome with anger or even sadness.
She trailed off because the vehicle that had pulled up beside them at a red light had someone climbing out of it.
That was weird enough as it was, and would have drawn her attention, but it was the mask covering the man’s face that told her this wasn't just strange, it was dangerous.
“Micah!” she screamed.
He was already drawing his weapon.
But the man in the mask held something in his hands. It wasn't a gun, but when he pointed it at them, a mist began to seep into the vehicle.
The man wasn't wearing a mask to cover his identity, he was wearing it to protect himself.
Whatever the gas was, it was fast-acting. She began to feel dizzy, sleepy, and although she fumbled with her seatbelt, it was no good.
Already she was weakening.
The world faded away.
Darkness descended, and with it the knowledge that she was going to die at the hands of the organ traffickers.
