“You’re in over yer bleeding head, Clarissa. I’m asking you nicely, whatever footage you took of him or me, you best erase it now.”
“Then there will be nothing left.”
“Clarissa ...”
“You hacked into my files and deleted everything. You ruined any opportunity I had ...”
“I saved yer life, just like I’m trying do right now.”
“Who are you?”
“Do not use anything that will expose us,” he replies, ignoring my question. He gestures to the field behind us. “You want to live long enough to tell that little girl’s story, right?”
I gasp.
“Now run like the dickens through that field and keep running. No one can know you were here.” He nods toward the field. “Go, before he notices I’m gone.”
O’Brien?
Or his boss, the man in the suit?
“Why?” I whisper. So many whys. So many unanswered questions.
Ever so quietly and with my confiscated camcorder in hand, he opens the warehouse door. “I’ll answer one of yer questions if you do as I say.”
Do I trust him and his instructions?
Do I hate him or love him?
I study him. Easygoing, smart-talking Finn. Except he’s none of that now ... instead he’s panicked.
And dead serious.
“Okay.” I dislike accepting defeat. But sometimes in life, taking a step back is necessary. His warning couldn’t be clearer. Another day, another place where it’s safe, I’ll sit back and process everything. At this point, it’s all I can do.
“One question answered, and you get yerself gone. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Ask me who I am.”
I don’t know if it’s the softening of his eyes or his raw tone that has me whispering the question. “Who are you?”
“I’m the man who loves you.”
