Each time he attacked, they countered with upgraded security. He was perversely satisfied that now, finally, her home really was a fortress.
Not that he couldn’t get in if he wanted to. He could. But it would be drastic and decisive action rather than the teasing tactics he’d been using until now.
He had other photos, ones he’d looked at far too much. Nikolett in front of glass balcony doors at a resort in Amalfi, a large shadowy figure looming behind her. Another shot taken only moments later of Nikolett on her knees before the man, his hands tangled in her hair, his upper body and face in shadow.
He went back to the image of her at the airport, and guilt tightened his stomach.
He wasn’t incapable of emotion. Sadly he didn’t have that excuse for his actions.
He was the one who’d caused most of her recent pain—including the broken leg, thanks to a bear trap he’d dropped into her yard back when she still took walks through her garden.
He’d adjusted the strength of the trap, thinking it would cause a wound but not a break. Clearly he’d overestimated theforce, or underestimated how delicate she was. Still, it hadn’t severed her leg, which it would have if he hadn’t adjusted it.
Picking up his phone, he looked at his most recent, though weeks old, texts with Nikolett. The last time she texted him, she’d been on the Isle of Man, though of course she hadn’t been the one to tell him that.
Gus Alias +44 Number
Unless you have a fun reason for being there. Or someone fun to do.
I mean something fun to do! How do I edit a text…
N. Varda - Operation B Target 2
You weren’t wrong. Hotels are fun when you have something, or someone, fun.
Gus Alias +44 Number
When your cast comes off, maybe we could be fun, in a hotel, together.
She hadn’t replied, but he wasn’t worried. She would. Right now, he was an escape, a safe haven, in Nikolett’s life. All he had to do was wait for something to push her over the edge, and she’d come to him.
CHAPTER FIVE
“And how do you feel about the way you’ve treated Nikolett?”
“You can say it. I’m an asshole.”
“You’re not an asshole. You are someone whose unanswered need and unresolved trauma have hindered your relationships with people you care about.”
Eric lay back, the sparse grass and rocky soil biting into his back.
Dr. Mata sat beside him in performance tech running gear. It contrasted unflatteringly with Eric’s own sweat-stained track suit.
In the week Elijah—Dr. Mata—had been here, the other man had slowly allowed himself to be more casual, both in dress and their interactions. Probably that was strategic, because Eric got antsy if he spent too long sitting in one place, especially if he had to sit in one place and talk about his feelings.
He wouldn’t say he and Elijah were friends, because all their interactions were very much therapist and patient, but now, sometimes their sessions took place on a cliffside after a run.
“I would say that your behavior has at times been asshole-ish,” Elijah conceded. “But that doesn’t wholly and completely define you as an asshole.”
Eric snorted. “Splitting hairs.”
“People are complex beings. We are more than our worst decisions.”
“How I’ve treated Nikki—Nikolett—is bad, but it’s not my worst decision.”
“An interesting statement, but I think you’re trying to deflect. You want me to ask what your worst decision is so I don’t repeat the question.”
“Which is?”
