“Huh.” He punches in the code and sits on one of the chairs. I look at him as he scrolls through my phone. My brief memories of him are nothing like the reality. He’s tall, at least 6’4” if not taller, and big. His legs are spread wide and he’s leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs. The suit he’s wearing barely contains him. It strains at his shoulders and thighs. And I guess he’s in his late twenties. Younger than I think he should be.
His gaze snaps up to mine and he turns the phone toward me. “Who’s this?”
It’s a selfie of Drew and me. Drew’s my best friend. We’ve known each other since high school.
“Drew.”
“Boyfriend?”
I shake my head, wondering why he’s asking. He turns the phone back toward himself, scrolls through more photos.
“Just taking pictures for your architecture class?” he asks, turning the screen back toward me.
It’s the single image I captured when the two men were brought in. I don’t even know why I did it.
“That was an accident.”
“How do you accidentally take that picture when you have sense enough to hide?”
I can’t answer that. “You can see. There are a lot of the warehouse.” I start to rise, to go to him and show him. But he halts me by raising his hand.
“Stay.”
I do.
He drops the phone to the floor and stands up, puts his heel on the screen and crushes it.
“No!” I’m on hands and knees trying to grab it from under his shoe even as I hear it splintering.
His hand closes around my hair again and he draws me to kneel up. He crouches down so we’re almost at eye level. I still have to look up, though.
“Sweetheart, you’ve got bigger problems than your phone right now.”
Sweetheart.He says it casually, like before.
“Please don’t hurt me. I really wasn’t spying. I wasn’t here on purpose. I…”
“Stop blubbering,” he says, releasing me. He stands. “Get your shit together.”
I nod. I sit back and I keep nodding.
He chuckles. “I mean get yourthingstogether. In your bag.”
“Oh.” I look at the spilled contents. I’m gathering my things and wiping my nose as tears are dropping to the floor as I consider what’s going to happen to me. I never called my mom back yesterday. She’ll be worried now. I should have called her.And dad. I don’t remember the last time I talked to him. Shit. What will they think happened to me? Will they even find—
“Natalie,” comes his deep voice.
He’s got his hands on his hips and is looming over me.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I say with a loud sob. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Christ, I believe you. Wrong place, wrong time.”
I freeze. I think for a moment he remembers me, too, but I was a kid then. He couldn’t. And when he speaks, I realize he doesn’t.
“I don’t think you’d be wearing a bright pink coat if you were trying to stay incognito. Blend and all. But you did overhear some shit.”
“I won’t tell anyone. I forgot it already. I don’t even know what it was—”
