“Lies! All lies!” he yells.
“Quiet, or your brains are going to be on your ceiling.”
“Oh, god! No! Please!”
“If you try to pull this again, I won’t be as lenient in the future. As it stands, I’m tempted to take you in for solicitation.”
“Solicitation? What the hell? I wasn’t selling sex.”
“Um…your dick is out. I have a recording of our entire conversation.”
“You do? No shit! Come on…I…” He’s crying now. The asshole has tears streaming down his face, snot running out of his nose. I don’t feel sorry for him. How many times has he done this? How many of his victims cried when he made them get on his desk?
“Save it! Why shouldn’t I turn you in? Why? Give me one good reason.”
“You can stay! Stay as long as you want!” he yells
I’m so tempted to take up his offer. It’s on the tip of my tongue. I can’t! “No!” I push out. “I don’t need your crappy room. I’m here undercover. I’m leaving tonight. Right now, but if I catch you pulling this shit again…I swear to god I’ll take you in. You get one free pass, but only because I don’t feel like all the paperwork. You do this again, and you’re done, do you understand me?”
Yes.” His lip quivers. “I help people. I help them.”
“You take advantage of people.”
“No!” His eyes go wide. “I give them—”
“You take advantage of women who are down on their luck. Here’s the thing, when a person helps another person, they shouldn’t expect something in return. That’s how it should work. If I had a dollar for every man who said it wasn’t rape, I’d be a millionaire.”
“Rape?” He cries harder, his whole face is red.
“Yes. Next time I’ll pull the trigger. I’ll put a gun in your hand and tell my superiors it was self-defense.”
“Oh god!” he mutters, crying harder. I take my gun away from his neck. “I’m not a rapist,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m not.” He says it in a questioning way, like maybe he isn’t buying his own paltry excuses anymore. I think I might have gotten through to him.
I take a couple of steps back to put some space between us and then turn quickly, walking to my room.
“I didn’t mean to…” I hear him mutter. “I’m not a rapist,” he repeats. He mutters something else, but I’m too far away to hear him.
What the hell am I going to do now? I have very little money left. I don’t want to borrow money from my family. I pull in a deep breath. I have a few days before I won’t even be able to buy myself food. I should have enough for one more tank of gas. As I walk to my room, I look over to my car. Then I go inside and pack. I’m gone within ten minutes.
15
Three days later…
Lyre
I can’t sleep.
I’m not sure why that is. I had a long, hard day. I performed a double bypass surgery. I should be shattered. I should have been dead to the world hours ago. I can’t seem to drift off. My eyes are scratchy. I toss and turn until I hear Morgan let herself in. Now I hear the shower running. She told me something about there being a water pressure problem in the motel where she’s staying. That was several days ago. I can’t believe they haven’t sorted it out yet. What kind of a place is she staying in?
That’s just it, I don’t mind her showering here. I wish she’d accept more from me. She halfheartedly agreed to dinner again tonight and wolfed it down before heading back out to keep watch. That’s something…I guess. She refuses to stay over even though I’ve told her she can crash here. I’ve told her that a good couple of times. She shoots me down or ignores the offer.
I haven’t tried to push because there is a part of me that doesn’t think it’s a good idea. I’m attracted to Morgan. There’s no use denying it. From the way I’ve seen her look at me a couple of times, I think the attraction might be mutual. Logically, sleeping with her would be a bad decision. Maybe that’s why she’s keeping her distance. I won’t argue. We’re all a little on edge. The guys as well. We’re all being vigilant. I’m hoping the harpy turns up soon. Then we can all go back to living our lives.
I hear the shower turn off. I hear Morgan moving around. I’m wide awake now. I switch my bedside light on. I’ll try reading. I’m on book three in a fantasy trilogy. I read a chapter when I hear Morgan close the door to the garage. I don’t hear anything for a while. Then the garage door opens, and she starts her engine. I hear her reverse and the garage door close.
I read a couple more pages when I realize that I never actually heard her pull off and drive away. I frown, sitting up. I go to my window and look outside, but I don’t see her car parked there. Am I going crazy?
I stand there for a few minutes. I’m torn between going back to bed – because I really feel like an idiot – or…heading downstairs to check if she’s still there. That’s insane. Why would Morgan still be inside my house?
I walk towards my bed and stop just short of climbing back in. I realize that I won’t get to sleep unless I check to see. I need to put my mind at ease. I go down the hall to the door that leads to the garage. I feel stupid as I slowly open the door.
My jaw drops when I see her car parked next to mine. It’s on the far side of the garage. Morgan pretended to leave. I almost want to rub my eyes and look again. What the fuck! Does that mean that Morgan is sleeping inside the vehicle? I look back over my shoulder down the dark hall. Maybe she’s in my spare bedroom. I doubt it. I would have heard her pass my bedroom if that was the case.
I use my senses, closing my eyes. I pick up a heartbeat inside her car.
Inside.
What the…?
Why?
There’s only one way to find out. I walk to her car. Fuck me! Morgan is curled up on the back seat. She has a blanket and is using a thick jacket as a pillow. I don’t know why exactly, but the sight of her there angers me. She’s in a tough spot, but she hasn’t been honest with me. She needed help, but she couldn’t reach out. This, after everything we’ve been through. I was beginning to think I could trust her. I walk back to the door. I flick on the light switch since the motion sensor isn’t working. Or maybe someone disabled it? She sits up, eyes wide, chest heaving.
“We need to talk,” I say as I walk back to her vehicle.
“What the hell, Lyre! I could have shot you,” she yells, lifting her gun. I realize that she had it under her makeshift pillow.
“What are you doing in here?” I try to tone my voice down.
She opens the door and climbs out, standing in front of me. “I’m watching for the harpy. What do you think?”
“I think you’re full of shit! What’s going on?”
“Nothing is going on.” I can see she’s lying. It’s written all over her face. It’s clear by the look in her big blue eyes.
“Why are you sleeping in your car?”
“I told you—”
“No!” I shake my head. “I want the truth.”