We’d been underground for a day. There was a door I could leave through or take fresh air from, but that wasrestricted to the dead of night, and only just outside enough that I was behind the car and the two dumpsters. I had more questions about that too, since the alley was fenced off, and we’d eventually need the dumpsters to be emptied of trash.
Too much time on my hands meant I was overthinking, and I didn’t want to overthink about the case anymore. The legal team were informed of the tap on their systems through Santo—I think. I didn’t know much more than Jacques telling me it was all taken care of.
So, it was overthinking and watching TV.
“Oh my god, you’re on the news!” I squealed, seeing a mugshot of Jacques appear. He looked menacing.
Jacques was in the kitchen, which is where he was doinghisoverthinking—I think. My brain wanted to switch off, but it wasn’t possible. “What are they saying?” He came through, dressed in a red and white apron with little frills on the bottom. I giggled at the sight of him. “This is what—why are you laughing?”
I was in hysterics. “The apron,” I said, whacking my limbs around on the sofa as I laughed harder. “Where did you get it?”
He walked in front of the TV screen, and now the mugshot appeared right beside his face. “This was the only apron choice,” he said, showing it off for me as I continued to giggle. “I thought you’d like it.”
“I love it, I do.” I was laughing so hard I was crying. “You look like one of the lunch ladies from high school.”
“Oh, I do?” he asked, flexing his big bulging tattooed muscles in his equally tight black T-shirt. “They looked like this, huh?”
I shrugged, wiping my tears on my T-shirt, pulling it up from the bottom and cleaning my face. “Some of them were hella butch, so yeah. Maybe.”
“I’ll take it as a compliment,” he said, still flexing. “Unless it’s not a compliment, kitten. In which case, I fear I might have to go get a spatula and show it that little ass of yours.”
“Spank me,” I giggled, still wiping tears from my cheeks. “But you’re not paying attention. You’re on the news.”
He nodded. “I know,” he sighed, throwing himself down on the sofa beside me. “It’s gonna be ugly before it gets pretty again.” He hugged my head under his arm, locking me there gently with a little squeeze. “So, what are they saying about me, huh?”
On the screen, after all the laughter, we watched as the ticker on the bottom told a series of lies about how Jacques, named Reaper, had kidnapped a worker for the pharmaceutical company, Nexovex. He turned it up so we could hear the female news presenter.
“There’s a conspiracy which dives deeper into why this kidnapping took place. The FBI aren’t releasing the name of the person being held because they have stolen assets from Nexovex, which they believe are being used in an attempt to criminalize the pharmaceutical company. Any sighting of Jacques, a.k.a. Reaper Harlan should be reported immediately. Do not engage. This man is dangerous.”
“What is she even saying?” I asked him.
“They’re trying to make it sound like you’re a thief, and I’m forcing you into harming Nexovex’s reputation,” he said. “They’re setting it up so that when you come out of this, nobody will take your testimony seriously.”
My heart raced. I clung to Jacques. “But—but—but—”
Jacques held me tight. There was no escaping his grasp, not that I’d want to right now. The news didn’t name me, but it might as well have.
17. JACQUES
I took care of Ezra the best way I knew how to, taking his mind off the world that appeared to be crumbling before us, and leaving the two of us on an island, slowly being chipped away at. If this was theTitanic, we’d both be on that door, waiting for news that something was happening, except we weren’t in the middle of freezing water. In fact, even though winter was coming, it was really warm in our underground apartment.
The bedroom was where I liked to take care of him. It was our space, our haven, and nobody could take that from us.
In bed, covered by blankets, a naked Ezra lay as if he were about to be photographed from above, and mentally, my eyes were capturing every moment of it. With all that unlimited camera roll behind my eyes, I was making sure he knew I was capturing him—my hands making a rectangle shape like I was framing him up. I walked around in my sweats, my bulge very visible and getting harder the longer I looked at him.
“Come on,” he giggled. “Get into bed with me.”
“And ruin this masterpiece,” I said, one eye winking until I shut it, playing into my cinematographer role, getting the angles from above, from all the sides. And Ezra just lay there, his eyes following me and his smile getting bigger the longer I took. “Look at my kitten, so precious and soft.”
“Daddy’s kitten,” he said, pouting. “Can I have some milk?”
“Daddy’s milk?” I asked, jumping onto the bottom of the bed with my knees. His legs flinched inwards, pulled up into his chest. “Oh, look at you, already prepared.”
He quickly let his legs down, and wrapped them around one of my legs. His flexibility never ceased to amaze me, especially when it seemed like he was pushing it to the limit. Igrabbed one of his legs at the thigh, both my hands wrapped around his upper thigh, and pulled him out of the blankets. He was chubbed up and trying to hide it from me like I hadn’t seen it before.
“It’s mine,” I told him. “You don’t have to hide it from me.”
“It’s a secret,” he giggled, so playfully.
