Page 43 of Triple Trouble

There was silence in the living room again. And then Jackson said, “Emma’s been gone for a while. Do you think we should check on her?”

I hadn’t realized how long I’d been in the hallway. I walked out, forced myself to wear my sunniest smile and said, “Is everyone ready for dessert?” as though I hadn’t heard a word they’d said.

The guys did the washing up: Adrian scrubbing the pans that couldn’t go in the dishwasher in hot soapy water, Xavier drying everything with a dish towel, and Jackson putting everything back in the cupboards. When I stepped in and tried to help, they shooed me away. None of them mentioned anything they’d discussed while I was in the hallway, and I didn’t bring it up. I didn’t want any of them to know how overwhelmed I felt, and I didn’t want them to feel like I was rushing them.

On the outside, I was the perfect house guest: I made popcorn and turned on the television, selecting an action movie that I knew they’d all enjoy watching.

But on the inside, I was a mess.

My thoughts tangled together: my kiss with Xavier, sex with Adrian, the unfinished tattoo on my chest, and, louder than all the others, the idea that maybe I’dneverescape from Nathan.

22

EMMA

On my third attempt to draw a tiger, I threw my pencil down with frustration. How had the guys learned to create such detailed tattoos, when I could barely draw a nostril?

I’d tried to imagine a tattoo gun in my hand, but it was no use. I’d seen them work so many times that I assumed I could draw the same kinds of designs, but every time I tried, I felt like my hand had disconnected from my brain.

It didn’t help that I was full of pent-up energy. Everywhere I looked, I saw reminders of the guys, and being downstairs with them was almost unbearable. I was so horny, and so frustrated, that I couldn’t evenlookat them without feeling a pang of desire.

And the worst part? They continued with their normal lives, acting like their conversation had never happened.

I desperately needed a break.

My car was still parked in the alleyway, and I eyed the keys. What if I went out for half an hour? I could visit Helen, or Cora. Xavier, Jackson, and Adrian were working and would be for a while — they wouldn’t even need to know.

But as I headed to the security door with the keys in my hand, guilt and fear pulled me back. Nathan knew I was staying here, in this building. What if he was outside, waiting?

No matter what I did — helping the guys in the shop, using Jackson’s art supplies to practice sketches, finding new recipes I could try — I couldn’t shake the feeling that Nathan was out there, waiting for his opportunity.

And as long as he was out there, I would be trapped here.

The cameras showed me that the carpark in the alleyway was deserted, with nobody walking on the road or the sidewalk. But the frame only focused on some of the street. What if he was on the other side?

The terrifying fact was, I didn’t know where he was. Nor did I know what he was planning to do if he found me.

All I knew was that I wasn’t safe.

The sky outside the narrow windows was clear and blue. If only I could fly a drone out there, I thought, I could use it to search up and down the city streets until I found him. If I knew where he was, I could make sure I stayed away.

A quick search of his social media profiles told me that he’d uploaded no new personal information, which was predictable, but didn’t help.

Feeling restless, I went downstairs and made the guys steaming cups of hot chocolate, carrying them out one-by-one and placing them on the top shelf of their trolleys.

“Thanks,” Xavier said, as I placed the cup next to him as he worked on a geometric tattoo on a man’s thigh. Jackson was so absorbed in his work that he didn’t notice the cup until I walked away, and Adrian gave me a grateful nod.

I’d confirmed the appointments this morning and tidied the studio, so there wasn’t much left to do. Some of the supplies were running low, so I carried up boxes from the basement and restocked the shelves while I hummed along to the songs that played through the speakers on the ceiling. I was halfway through when I accidentally stepped back and bumped into Xavier’s trolley, knocking over his hot chocolate.

“Sorry,” I gasped, as he gave me a reproachful look as he dabbed it up with paper towels. Each shelf of the trolley was decorated with closely punctured holes, and the brown liquid dripped on the ink vials he kept on the level below.

“What’s going on with you?” he asked. “That thing almost hit my elbow — you could have fucked up this guy’s tattoo.”

The man in question looked at me with an uninterested expression. His eyes were pink, and I wondered if he’d smoked a few cones before coming in, and then lied about it on the consent form.

“I’m sorry,” I said, as I rushed to grab the cup. “I’ll make you another one.”

“I’m fine,” Xavier said, and took the cup back from me. “Why don’t you do something else for a while? Maybe spend some time in the gym?”

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