Once the door closes, I realize I should have looked for shit that could be used as a weapon. I’m letting her situation and how I feel about her influence me when I know better. The toilet flushes, but it takes several seconds before the water turns on. I try to think about what could be in the bathroom, but I can’t even remember what it looks like. I only used it a couple times to piss.
When the doorknob turns, I step back so if she lunges or swings something at me, I’ll have enough reaction time, but she only shuffles out, looking just as miserable as she did when she went in.
“Do I need to pat you down?” I question, running my eyes over her too big shirt and joggers.
“You think I’m going to shove a toilet brush down my pants and fence you with it when you least expect it?” Damn, she’s witty.
I watch her back as she shuffles into her room, then follow after her. “Are you hungry?” I question after she lowers herself gingerly into the chair.
“Hasn’t anyone explained how kidnapping works to you? You’re supposed to starve me and shove me into a dirty basement.” She leans her head back and closes her eyes.
“I need you alive to answer my questions,” I reply.
“I’m starving,” she admits quickly, almost as if she was worried I was going to take back the offer after her flippant reply.
“Let’s make a deal.”
“I’m not blowing you for food.” She’s right back to acerbic.
“I’ll let you pick if you answer one of my questions.”
“Who am I working for?” She deepens her voice, pretending to emulate mine, and rolls her eyes. “I already told you no one. You just don’t believe me.”
“Okay, I’ll make this one easy,” I offer.
She tilts her chin down and looks at me, waiting.
“What did you mean when you said you wouldn’t have to add him to your list?”
“Who? What list?” She tries to play dumb, but I saw the calculating look in her eye, and she waited just a breath too long before responding.
I let her see I’m not buying her shit and give her another chance to answer. I actually think she might when she opens her mouth a few seconds later, but right before she speaks, she snaps her lips closed, then looks away.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Maybe next time.” I shrug like I have all the time in the world, then close the door to her room. I don’t tell her what I’m getting or even if I’m getting something for her. I let her simmer in her own choices.
I drop my ass to the chair in the living room and pull up the menu for Boneyard. I know what I want, but I need to find something to feed her.
After placing the order, I make a call to Masher and tell him to send one of the guys to pick it up and leave it at the main entrance. It’s a shit ton of food, but it’s not like I’ll be leaving anytime soon. I might as well get used to delivery until she figures out that she’s going to answer my questions one way or another.
A little over an hour later, my phone buzzes with a text.
Masher:In the lobby.
It’s a risk to go down, but she can’t use the elevator without the key, and I’m banking she won’t be able to get down five flights of stairs in a rush either. I’m going to have to come up with some solutions, though, if this goes long-term.
I leave the apartment, locking the door behind me, and run my ass to the elevator, then do the same to grab the food and return. I’m standing so close to the doors when I arrive back on the fifth floor, my nose is leaving fog on the metal.
The key slams into the lock, and then I twist the knob and fling it open. I need to know if I’m going to be racing down the stairs and dragging her back.
I push her door open, and it slams into the wall in my haste. She jolts, but only her eyes slit open to stare at me from the bed.
“Food,” I announce gruffly.
“You don’t have a janky little tray to shove through the door with some moldy bread and water?” she retorts.
“I got you soup and grilled chicken, but if you want moldy bread, I’m sure I can make that happen.”
