I put my hands on my hips, staring him down. “He’s little. I made a commitment to care for him. He’s not staying by himself.”
“You’re really going to make someone go over there to get a rat?”
“Did you just call my bunny a rat?” I asked, my voice high-pitched.
“Same thing,” he grumbled, then sighed. “I’ll send one of the guys over tonight.”
I opened my mouth to continue arguing, but he held up his hand. “I’m not going to discuss this any further. You’re making me risk one of my men’s life for your little rodent. If I have to get him, I’ll do it my way.”
“He’s not a rodent. He’s a mammal.”
Gunner shook his head and turned back to his screens. I saw a lot of numbers that meant nothing to me. My gaze traveled over his desk and came to a screeching halt on a small screen off to the side that I hadn’t seen at first. It looked like surveillance cameras. I recognized the back alley of my apartment.
Does he have cameras on the building?
“Get comfortable,” he said, not looking up from his screen. “You’ll be here at least until tomorrow. There’s food in the kitchen if you’re hungry. You can pick any of the rooms to sleep in. But leave the door open. And the windows are armed, so don’t open them.”
I was restless and took him up on his offer of food. I was a nervous eater. And a happy eater. And a sad eater. Really an anytime eater. So now was as good a time as ever to eat and regroup.
The kitchen was a decent size and much cleaner than mine. All the appliances appeared new and unused. In fact, the whole kitchen didn’t look like anyone had ever so much as boiled an egg in it.
I opened the big stainless-steel fridge and tilted my head, wondering if I was hallucinating. Because all that was in his fridge was cottage cheese, vegetables, and almond milk. Like a whole shelf full of almond milk.
“Um, Gunner,” I called out, looking over my shoulder, holding the fridge door in a tight grip. “You don’t happen to have any real food, do you?”
“Real food? There’s stuff in the fridge.”
“I might go into cardiac arrest if my lips touch anything that’s inside. I like my food carbalicious and valve clogging. The opposite of what I’m looking at right now.”
He looked at the ceiling, murmuring something that sounded like “Years in the navy and it’s come to this.”
“Just get whoever you’re sending to my apartment for Killer to also get stuff from my fridge,” I suggested.
“Fine. Now can I get back to making sure you’re safe?”
I waved my hand at his screens. “Knock yourself out.”
He shook his head and turned back to what he was doing before I interrupted.
Since I had time to kill, I snooped through the cupboards, unearthing a vast protein-powder supply and more health bars than one man should ever own. I decided against food, since I wasn’t going to be able to eat away my feelings with the health crap he stocked.
When there was nothing left to explore in the kitchen and living room, I decided I’d try to make one last attempt at escape before I called it a night.
“Hey, Rambo,” I called out to Gunner, who looked up at me with a raised brow. “I’m going to bed.”
He grunted in response and went back to his screens.
Hoping he’d stay at his desk, I went to the back of the house and found what I was looking for: a back door. I tried opening it, but there was a deadbolt and two locks on it.
After trying to unsuccessfully pick the locks, I decided a window would be a much easier option.
There was one in the room at the back of the house, and I went straight for it. The lock was much easier to pick than the door, and with a triumphant grin, I pushed the window up.
I paused, waiting for the alarm, but nothing sounded. Swinging one leg over, I decided to go with the safe option and slowly slide to the ground, feet first.
My plan was foiled by two strong arms winding around my body and pulling me back.
“What part of ‘stay inside and the windows are armed’ didn’t you understand?” Gunner asked, releasing me as soon as my whole body was back inside.
