He saw my look. “If something had happened, if someone had grabbed you, it would’ve been our fault. We weren’t ready. W
e have to always be ready.”
“Oh.” And the Shame of the Month Award went to me. I was flooded with guilt. “I won’t go into rooms like that again. Would that help?” There was so much about what they did that I didn’t know about. “Maybe you guys could help me learn about how you operate. I don’t really know that much, except that Carter told me to call 09 for when I’m ready to go home. I never call it, but you guys always seem to know. He said you guys have been watching me for a long time.”
He shrugged. “We have a blending technique, but you don’t need to really understand that. We’ll do better next time.”
“Okay.” I wanted to know. I wanted to help, but I sensed that Mike wanted the conversation to be done. I let it go.
It was later that I wondered about all the security guards again. I had showered, changed clothes, and my stomach was rumbling. When I heated up food, I saw one of the guards turn suddenly away from me. His hand grabbed at his stomach and I knew it hadn’t been mine that was rumbling. I wondered when the last time these guys ate, but no—they must’ve had breaks at times. Still, I looked at the huge casserole in front of me. There was too much for me so I dished it onto three plates and handed one to the guy. A fork was next. He was startled, but shook his head. “No, ma’am. That’s alright.”
His stomach sounded again. I rolled my eyes and pushed it into his hands. “I’m not going to die in the two minutes it’ll take you to eat that. Go ahead.” I lifted the other plate. “Where’s the other guy?”
He hesitated, but gestured with the fork to my floor. “He’s outside by the elevator.”
“Eat.” I pointed to his plate as I started towards the stairs.
The other guard had a similar reaction except he dropped his radio. It hit the floor with a loud screech and he grabbed it, muttering apologies at the same time. I left the plate on the bench beside him and waved. “Have fun. Eat up.” I scanned the small hallway. No Mike. “Where are the others?”
His head jerked up. “Ma’am?”
I sighed. Why did they all have to call me ma’am? “Mike and the rest of the guards. Where is he and how many are there? I’ll cook something for everyone. They can eat it when you guys take your breaks.”
I could tell he hadn’t expected that. He almost dropped his plate. “Mike got called away for a transport and there are eight others.”
Eight? Really? “Okay. I’ll make more.”
I didn’t ask what a transport was. I was starting to figure out what they would tell me and what they wouldn’t. Whatever a transport was made the list of Things Not To Discuss With Emma. But when I went back to the kitchen, I was surprised at how many guards Carter had enlisted. That meant there were ten security guards around me at all times. Ten…my stomach dropped and I sat down with a plop on the counter stool. I swallowed a lump in my throat. Ten guards. I had known there were a few, but ten—it was serious. My situation was serious. Carter wasn’t one to waste anyone’s time. Then I remembered what Amanda had said about Ben and Mallory.
My hands started to tremble.
I pushed that thought away before, but now I couldn’t shake it. Something happened. I knew it. I could feel it. That same something could happen to me. Ten guards. All ten of them were trained and ready to take a bullet for me.
My stool started to wobble and I grabbed onto the counter. I couldn’t hold on. My hands were shaking too much.
“Ma’am?”
I heard the guard’s voice in the distance. Things were going black. He sounded far away. I thought he had been in the next room? Maybe he moved, and then the darkness covered all of me. Something crashed far away, and I heard his radio buzz.
“She’s down…call the boss…”
“Emma.”
A hand touched my arm briefly. I jerked awake and was disoriented. A large black silhouette stood above me and I started screaming.
“Stop!” He bent further down. “It’s me, Mike.”
I gasped on my last scream when he turned on the light, but my chest was still heaving from the panic. My heart was pounding. I rolled over to dry heave until I started to calm down. I felt something cold against my arm.
“It’s Carter. He wants to talk to you.”
“What?”
The cold thing pressed against me again. “It’s Carter. He’s on the phone.”
Phone. Carter. My hand streaked out and I grabbed the small cellphone. When I rolled over, I pressed it to my ear and asked, “Carter?”
“Hey.”