“My office. My home office, in my desk.”
He blinks at me for a moment that feels like a century. “Be careful with your words. I have someone who can corroborate that right now. If you’re lying to me, I will pull out everything in that bag. Do you understand?”
I nod as my body goes numb. I’m suddenly tired and worn, like I could lie down to nap. It’s odd, I always thought adrenaline would keep me alert in a situation like this, but instead it has wiped me out entirely. Everything is foggy and hazy. I’m using every last shred of energy to not fall apart into a bumbling, panicked mess.
With me tied up and helpless, he pulls his phone out of the menacing black duffel bag and dials a number. Something must go wrong because he squints his eyes and dials again, but apparently to no avail.
Suddenly, the lights start shutting off, room by room. The power goes dead in my apartment. With the blackout shades drawn, even in the middle of the day, my apartment is pitch dark.
“What the fuck did you do?” I hear him hiss right before I hear the front door open. So quick that I can’t comprehend the sequence of events, there’s the sound of multiple footsteps, something cracking, and then a loud howl of agony.
“He’s down. Get the lights, Lance. She’s scared.” I’d recognize that Irish accent anywhere. Cricket’s voice rings through like a fucking angelic symphony.
You did it, Eden. You survived.
One by one, the overhead lighting and the lamps flicker back to life and I see Cricket standing over the intruder with his pistol in her hand. He’s writhing on the floor in agony and I notice his hands are displaced. All of his fingers are pointing in different directions. The cracking I heard…
It was bones breaking.
Lance is kneeling in front of me in an instant. “Oh, Bambi.” He strokes my face with the back of his knuckle where it’s still hot and tender. “He hit you.”
I suck in a breath, trying to hold back my tears. “Just once. I’m okay.”
“I’m so sorry. We got here as soon as we could.”
“Thank you. I’m okay,” I reiterate. The momentary sense of relief is fading and my voice begins to crack and squeak. Burning tears begin to coat my face.
Lance checks his pockets for something and comes up short. He scours the black duffel bag the intruder brought with him.
“Do you know this arsehole, love?” Cricket asks me.
I shake my head, but my eyes are fixed on the bag as Lance pulls out items one by one. A wrench. Handcuffs. A bottle of clear liquid that I’m positive isn’t water. A hammer. Pliers. Duct tape. What looks like a cattle prod.
“He’s the perfect serial killer but doesn’t have a pocketknife?” Lance mutters to himself. “Hang on, Bambi. I’ll get you free.”
“I have kitchen shears,” I say. “In the island drawer to the left.”
“Fuck!” Lance suddenly shouts, making me jump. “Cuff him, Cricket. Don’t kill him. We need to talk to Vesper.”
“Oh, I’m going to hurt him a lot more before I kill him,” she says with a sinister smile on her face.
Lance tosses a black leather wallet her way before he retrieves my kitchen shears and returns to me. “There you go,” he says as he frees my wrists. I instantly rub them together, flinching where the ties dug into my skin and broke the surface. He frees my ankles next, right before Cricket rips the intruder’s ski mask off.
He looks so…normal. A fresh military-style haircut with a clean-shaven face. His eyes are cinched closed as he tries to stomach the pain from his disfigured hands.
“You filthy fucking piece of shit,” Cricket growls. “There’s nothing I hate more than a dirty cop.”
“Cop?” I ask, looking into Lance’s light eyes.
“The dumbass brought his badge.” Lance pulls me into a tight hug and when his body starts to jostle, I realize it’s me who is shaking out of control. “He’s FBI.”
The news upends me, even more than the pliers and the hammer. There’s nothing scarier than the people you’re supposed to trust, hunting you, stalking you, waiting for the perfect moment until you’re alone and most vulnerable…
FBI? But then what does this have to do with Porky?
“Shut up,” I silently scold my rational brain. I’m tired. I’ve done enough. I survived. Now leave me alone. I don’t want to think any more.
“Eden,” Lance says, as he snaps his finger in my face. “Don’t pass out. Stay with me, okay? Linc is on the way.” My ears begin to ring, and Lance’s words sound distant and distorted. “Do you hear me? Linc is coming.”