Page 8 of Carrick
“Are you always like this?” I asked, mouth dry.
“Yes,” he said simply. “I find factual accuracy grounding.”
From the back, another man leaned against the wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t blink.
“That’s Deacon,” Nikolai said. “He doesn’t talk much.”
Good. Someone I could relate to.
And then she came around the corner. Shorter than me, sharp-featured, with golden blonde hair and eyes that held more understanding than I could bear to look at.
“Hey,” she said gently. “I’m Maddy. Listen, I know this sucks. I know it’s weird. But we’ll help you get through it.”
I shook my head. “I don’t need help. I need a door and a lock.”
She didn’t take offense. Just nodded. “Got it. But if you change your mind, I’m a hallway away.”
Nikolai cleared his throat. “Carrick. Maddy. Show her to her room, please. Mercado? Office.”
Carrick gave a lazy salute before turning on his heel. Maddy shot me a quick smile, then gestured for me to follow. I hesitated just long enough to feel like I still had control oversomething, then followed them down a hallway that felt longer than it had any right to be.
“So,” Maddy said, her tone light, almost chirpy. “You allergic to small talk, or just new people?”
“Both,” I muttered.
Carrick snorted, hands stuffed in his pockets as he strolled beside me. “At least she’s honest.”
“I like honest,” Maddy said. “It’s rare around here. Especially when someone’s trying to convince us they’re ‘fine’.” She used finger quotes. “Which you are definitelynot.”
I didn’t answer. My jaw was already clenched tight enough to ache.
We passed a small sitting room, a home gym, and what looked like a damn library. The house didn’t feel like a bunker—it felt like a goddamn fortress, disguised as a mountain retreat. Granite floors, thick wooden beams, high-end… everything. Intimidating, immaculate, and suffocating in its calm.
“Do all witness protection programs come with a luxury upgrade?” I muttered.
Carrick smirked. “Only if you’re lucky. Or dangerous.”
I glanced sideways at him. “Which one am I?”
His grin widened just enough to show teeth. “We’ll see.”
“Don’t mind him,” Maddy said. “Carrick likes to pretend he’s mysterious and brooding, but really, he just likes to mess with people.”
“And you’re what, the welcoming committee?” I asked.
“Sure,” she chirped. “Welcome to the part where everything sucks for a while, and then maybe sucks a little less. Eventually.”
We stopped near the end of the hallway. Maddy opened a door and stepped aside. “Here. It locks from the inside, windows are reinforced, and the bed’s decent. I already put fresh towels in the bathroom.”
I stepped inside slowly. The room was clean. Neutral. Cozy in a deliberately impersonal way, like a hotel no one reallymeantto return to. The kind of space that tried to soothe without making promises.
Carrick lingered in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes scanning me in that quiet, unnerving way he seemed to have. Not predatory. Not curious, either. Just…watchful. Like he was waiting to see which direction I’d run.
“You good?” Maddy asked softly, pulling my attention back.
I hesitated. Then gave her the truth.
“No. But I’m here.”
