"A few more hours—"
"We should stop." He stands, stretching, and I watch the muscles move under his shirt. "You've been at this for twelve hours. Your eyes are bloodshot and you keep missing keystrokes."
"I'm fine."
"You're not." He holds out a hand. "Come on. Shower. Food. Sleep. We pick this up tomorrow."
I stare at his hand. It's such a simple gesture. So normal. Like we're just two people who share an apartment, not a prisoner and his keeper, not a victim and his destroyer.
Maybe that's what we're becoming… boyfriends.
Ridiculous, but I like the way it tastes.
I take his hand and let him pull me up.
"This doesn't mean I'm tired," I say.
"Of course not."
"I'm just humoring you."
"Naturally."
"And if you tuck me in again, I'm telling everyone."
His mouth twitches. "I didn't tuck you in. I placed a blanket in your general vicinity."
"Sure you did."
Chapter Nine: Jagger
Thecallcomesearly.
I'm in the kitchen making coffee, watching Jonah argue with a stack of documents at the counter. He's got ink on his fingers and a pen tucked behind his ear, muttering to himself about transaction dates. His hair is sticking up on one side, and there's a crease on his cheek from the pillow. He looks ridiculous. He looks like a boy I want to keep.
My work phone buzzes. The number on the screen makes my blood cool by several degrees.
Edmund Holloway. The uncle. Not the Custodian seat holder, but the one who wants to be. The one who's been whispering in dark corners for years, building alliances, waiting for his brother to show weakness.
I've never liked him. That's the norm for me. I don't like most people. But Edmund has a particular kind of ambition that makes him dangerous. He's the type who smiles while calculating how to step over your corpse. The type who attends his nephew's birthday parties while plotting to steal his inheritance.
"Harrison," I answer.
"Jagger." His voice is smooth, cultured, the product of expensive schools and careful breeding. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."
"What do you need?"
"Direct as always. I appreciate that about you." A pause that's meant to unsettle. "I've been reviewing some irregularities in the detention facility records. Asset transfers that don't quite add up."
Jonah looks up from his documents, catching the tone of voice through the phone. I turn away, keeping my face neutral.
"What kind of irregularities?"
"A guard mentioned something interesting. Apparently a processed asset was removed from the facility under personal remand. Your personal remand, specifically." Another pause. "The Doe asset. The journalist."
"The guard was mistaken."
"Was he? Because I pulled the facility logs, Jagger. The asset isn't there. Hasn't been for a good while." Edmund's voice drops, conspiratorial. "Now, I'm not suggesting anything untoward. I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation. But you understand why I'm curious."
