EIGHT
MICAH
The condo is the only one on the entire floor. I swallow hard as Ilya opens the door and ushers me inside. I feel so out of place, like I’m too dirty for a place like this. I don’t deserve to be in his nice home, with him being so nice to me.
I deserve to be anywhere but here.
I deserve to be on the streets.
But on the streets, I wouldn’t be able to gather information. I wouldn’t be able to get anything useful for Adam.
I’d be just another random drug dealer, waiting to get caught — or worse — because I don’t know any other way to survive on my own.
“The bathroom is here,” Ilya says, pointing to a door. “If you want to wash your face.”
I swallow hard, realizing I must look like a complete mess after crying so much. He probably doesn’t want to see me like this, and I don’t blame him. I’m surprised he was willing to go out in public with me.
If I’m going to get anything out of him, I have to look better. I have tobebetter. Then Adam will welcome me back home.
Except I’m not sure I want to go home at all.
I’m not sure I even have a home.
How can I, when the man I know I love is willing to put my life at risk for the sake of a promotion?
I nod despite my thoughts, then head into the bathroom. Closing the door behind me, I stare at myself in the mirror.
My eyes are red, and I rub absently at them before turning the water on so I can splash my face. The sensation of the cool water against my skin is welcome, refreshing, and I keep doing it until I finally feel calm again.
Then I turn the water off and find the hand towel, drying my face off.
I feel better, calmer, and I sigh in relief.
All right. I can handle this.
I can handlehim.
But I still don’t have a plan, not really. I only know that if I don’t get the information Adam wants, the information heneeds, he won’t take me back.
Getting that information and handing it over means screwing over the one person who’s actually been nice to me in a long time, a man who was willing to drop everything to pick me up and take me to safety when I’ve done nothing to deserve it.
I don’t know what to do.
I leave the bathroom, heading back into the hallway and turning back for the living room to find Ilya.
A familiar classical piece plays softly through the speakers. Ilya is standing by a wall—by theaquarium, and I see now that half the wall space is taken up by the massive tank. There are only a few dim lights to illuminate the underwater scene.
I get closer and look into the tank. Silver fish flit about the underwater ferns and into caverns. I spot a few snails and shrimp in there too, as well as one larger fish with a striped pattern and long, graceful fins.
Ilya angles himself toward me. “How are you feeling?”
I don’t look away from the fish. They’re easier to watch, easier to deal with, and have much less of a chance of making me mess up in a serious way. “Better,” I tell him. “Thank you.”
I itch to call Adam again before I make even more mistakes.
If I could get his advice… But I can’t get his advice, not in front of Ilya. Maybe if I hadn’t refused him, he’d have given me more information on what to do. I’d been stupid to say no.
Hadn’t I?
