I take a step toward the door.
His breath is short, sharp.
But he doesn’t stop me.
And for some reason…Istop me, hesitating in that intersection.
I need to go. Ineedto.
Yet, my feet won’t let me.
“So you can arrest me?” I probably—no, definitelystupidly—ask.
His mouth kicks up. “I could have done that already, don’t you think?”
Maybe.
Or maybe the police are on the way. Or his crazy security company is watching us through some cleverly placed cameras, waiting for me to admit?—
“Why the thumb drive?”
I clench my teeth together, look away…and unfortunately, it’s right to the windows where the city’s lights are twinkling beyond.
God, that’s beautiful.
Like stars on the backdrop of the evening sky.
“Did you know what was on it?”
A bolt of pain shoots through my jaw and though I want to tell him I have no fucking idea, that I don’t have any control over what I do or who I steal from or the incriminating photos I take or the evidence I plant.
But I can’t.
He’s not going to save me.
He can’t help me—even if he wanted to.
So, I should go.
My stomach growls, breaking the silence that’s fallen.
He doesn’t say anything, just watches me for a long moment before turning and heading for the kitchen, tugging open the fridge door again, rummaging through the contents. “You still like omelets?”
My stomach rumbles again, answering for me.
So instead of getting the hell out of here like I should, I ignore the mindfuck of memories—how many nights had we snuck into the kitchen to make them?—and I follow him.
Food.
I need to keep my strength up.
ThenI’ll walk right out the front door.
ELEVEN
BROOKS
I holdmy breath until I hear her footsteps start coming my way.
