I sensed rather than saw him move back to the bar. I didn’t want to look up because I was afraid of what I would see. The man had already had a few drinks. What if one more was the one that pushed him past his limits? What if he turned into the man who’d beaten the shit out of my brother as easily as if he’d been doing it his entire life?
There was no response to my question and when footsteps came my way again, it was all I could do not to jump off the couch and put the piece of furniture between me and the man approaching me.
“Here,” was all Con said, then he was pushing a bottle of water into my line of sight. I managed to order my hands to take it from him even as my body shook violently. I fully expected Con to grab me or, at the least, sit down next to me, his big body crowding mine. But instead, he walked away and when I dared look up, I saw him once again sitting on the opposite side of the sectional, a bottle of water in his own hands.
“You need to drink,” Con murmured, then he took a drink from his own bottle.
I knew he hadn’t commanded it, but I drank anyway and when I felt his eyes on me, I felt strangely relieved. Like I’d pleased him somehow.
What the fuck, Micah?
“You aren’t my prisoner, Micah,” Con said.
His statement had me lifting my head.
“You can leave anytime you want.”
He had to be lying. He had to be. Guys like him didn’t do shit for free.
I opened my mouth to tell him exactly that when he suddenly reached around the arm of the sectional and pulled my backpack forward. The mere sight of the tattered bag had me letting out a sob of relief that I just couldn’t stop. I fully expected Con to toy with me and withhold the bag from me, but he once again surprised me when he used his left hand to place the bag as close to my side of the sectional as he could.
“What’s the catch?” I asked angrily, though I wasn’t sure why I was so furious since I knew he’d want something for the bag. Maybe he thought I was dumb enough that I’d just get up and go grab it, putting myself within easy reach.
“No catch,” Con said, then he was climbing to his feet. But he didn’t come near me or put himself closer to the bag. Instead, he got up and went back outside to stand on the balcony.
I waited several long seconds, my lungs struggling to draw in the appropriate amount of oxygen, before climbing shakily to my feet and going to the backpack. Instead of throwing Con’s blanket off my shoulders, I found myself drawing it tighter around my chilled body and maybe, just maybe, I tried to inhale what little of Con’s scent lingered on the fabric.
I sat down on the couch and clumsily opened the bag, fully expecting some, if not all, of the contents to be missing. But it was all there. The change of clothes for each kid, a handful of protein bars and a few bottles of water, and the cash that was rolled up and secured with one of Rory’s hair ties.
He really was letting us go.
I felt unsteady as I climbed to my feet. Despite the late hour, I needed to wake Christopher and Rory and get them the hell out of there. But my feet refused to obey the order. In fact, my brain seemed to have gone on hiatus because all I could do was stand there, my good hand gripping the handle on the top of the backpack and my broken arm trying to keep the blanket secured around my body.
Go, Micah. Fucking go!
But the order went unheeded.
What the hell was wrong with me?
I turned to look at the balcony, fully expecting Con to be watching me, but he wasn’t. His back was to me and not once did he glance over his shoulder in my direction.
It hurt.
It really fucking hurt.
What the hell?
I shook my head and dropped the bag. No way were things this easy. I stomped over to the balcony. My eyes fell on the lock on the door, and I had the sudden realization that I could easily lock the man on his own balcony, giving myself plenty of time to escape. But I didn’t stop my forward motion. Instead, I stepped outside and was greeted with a snap of cool air that left goosebumps popping up all over my exposed skin.
I ignored them and blurted, “Your brother’s waiting downstairs to stop us, isn’t he? Or to follow us.”
Con didn’t even look at me. “No, King got called away to a job. It’s just us.” He took a sip of the bottle of water and I found myself fascinated by the movement of his throat.