I said nothing.
“Michael?” she asked. “Michael, are you still there?”
“I’m here. There’s nothing you can do to help with this.”
“I beg to differ… I’m sure there’s something.” She sounded like sex, and my cock hardened at the slight change in her tone. “If you’re willing to take a break at some point today, would you want to come over? We can talk about it.”
I shook my head. I needed to say no to this, to end this call—never talk to her again, and do my damn job. I needed to stay in my lane of loss and loneliness, where no one else was ever welcome to drive along with me and matter.
“I’ll be there in five minutes,” I said.
“Five minutes? Were you ever planning to stop by my place, if you were already so close?”
“I definitely was,” I said. “I’ll see you soon.”
I ended the call and started taking the remaining flights downstairs. I knew now, more than ever, that killing her wasn’t going to happen. I was going to have to come up with one hell of an alternative.
It would be a different type of job, and it would take precision and skill, some of my best and complicated work to date.
I’d need more time—six to eight weeks at least, and I’d have to let her get close. But not too close. I’d need to be a lot more personal, but I couldn’t let her know any of my secrets or the truth about how fucked up of a person I really was.
I just needed to get her to trust me enough to fall a bit harder. To say “yes” when it was time, and I could take things from there…
Michael
Before
Subject: Wire transfer & a few things
Weiss has been handled and I’ve got two underlings getting jobs at Wal-Mart to get closer to Sutton. That one should be done in a few months.
Wire transfer for your last job is completed. They paid double since you finished it early.
–Trevor
* * *
Subject: Re: Wire transfer & a few things
Noted. Taylor is finished. Housekeeping will find him tomorrow morning. Send someone to double check the cameras across the street this evening.
–Michael
* * *
Subject: Re: Re: Wire transfer & a few things
Done.
Where are you on the Thatchwood job?
–Trevor
* * *
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Wire transfer & a few things
There’s been a problem…
Certain circumstances have changed since I made a mistake, and I need to carefully make some adjustments.
–Michael
* * *
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Wire transfer & a few things
What fucking ‘adjustments’ could there possibly be to this easy-ass job? And what mistake?
–Trevor
* * *
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Wire transfer & a few things
She has a new boyfriend…
–Michael
* * *
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Wire transfer & a few things
You better be fucking kidding me.
Can you please tell me that you’re not the boyfriend?
–Trevor
* * *
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Wire transfer & a few things
Ask me another question.
–Michael
* * *
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Wire transfer & a few things
Pick up your damn phone…
Adjustments and all, will she still end up gone in the end?
–Trevor
* * *
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Wire transfer & a few things
Absolutely.
–Michael
Meredith
Now
The flames in the fireplace hiss and crackle as Michael moves the rook chess piece across the board. We’re sitting in the great room, in silence, waiting for the latest news update on my story since the woman who the police thought was me turned out to be someone else.
My symptoms of Stockholm Syndrome are slowly settling in, and I know, deep down, that my resistance will eventually stop. I’ve read enough books about captives who eventually adapt to the world of their captors, but I still can’t think of a single story where the captive was already in love with the captor. One where the ‘happily ever after’ was reached and ripped away by the hero himself.
I haven’t spoken to him since the night he caught me, and although I tried to refuse his offer to watch this report, I couldn’t resist. I have no phone, no laptop, no internet access. I have to take whatever rare glimpses of the real world that he offers in order to keep myself sane.
Not only that, but I’m unnaturally drawn to him and I can’t deny the palpable tension between us. Hatred of this situation or not, and despite the fact that we’re not talking, I can’t help but want to be around him. And every now and then, like on nights like tonight, I don’t mind engaging him in a silent game of chess.
Even if I always lose…
Looking over the board, I see where he’s moved his piece and move a pawn two spaces forward. His gorgeous eyes meet mine, and for the first time in forever, he looks like he’s somewhat sorry for what he’s done. Not wanting to completely believe that, I look away and focus on the television.