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“Working on what?” I ask, eyeing her as she pulls on a sweater. It’s the middle of summer, but for some reason, this place feels cold.
Pulling on a pair of worn-out combat boots, Jerry hops on one foot, steadying herself on the makeshift wall. The entire structure moves.
“We’re working on making the space more livable. It’s going to take some time, but I pleaded with the Agency. They’re sending some people to start working on it soon.”
Oh?
I take a look around. “Why is it a warehouse? Other compounds are real houses.”
Jerry shrugs, her red hair spilling over her shoulders. “Who knows. It’s scary, looks abandoned, and it’s out of the way.”
Reasonable.
Veronica comes up behind me, a grin on her face. “How do you like it?” she asks.
I don’t answer.
Jerry winks.
TEN
SYDNEY
The secondhe leaves the room, I allow all the panic I’ve felt to take over again. My hands shake as I feel electrical shocks make their way down my legs. Grabbing the clothes he tossed at me, I pull them on, feeling bloated and in pain.
I have a life at home that I’m not ready to give up. I have friends—well, one friend. A cat. A job. Not one that I care much about, that’s for sure, but I don’t want to just leave all of that in the past.
And I don’t have my phone to tell Adam to feed Shiloh. I can’t just leave him to starve. If I died in that little apartment, I’d happily let that little man eat my corpse to keep him full. I’d do anything for him.
I’ve never had anything stable in my life. Not family, not jobs, not relationships. Nothing. Everyone has left me; everything has fallen apart. Every single boyfriend I’ve ever had has chosen jobs over me. Every single friend other than Adam has left because of my instability. The only thing I’ve been able to rely on is the money coming in from my parents, a desperate attempt to keep me tied to them. But what choice did I have when I was constantly mysteriously losing my job? How can I run from that?
In the back of my mind, I’ve always thought about where that money comes from. But when it’s my only choice of survival, I’m not sure what else I can do.
I was good with it. It may look like I’m well off, but I save every penny I can, hoping that one day I can somehow cut them out for good until I figure out how to really get out from under them. The key is making it look like I spend it. DC has a lot of rich people, and at the end of a semester, there’s almost always nice, expensive things left out at the curb for people to take. That’s how I found my dream apartment for cheap, too. The college girls that rented it before I moved in wallpapered the place, and instead of paying to take it down, the landlord tried to sell it as is. Turns out that a lot of people don’t want silver walls. To me, it was charming, and I was able to swindle him into giving it to me for much cheaper.
But cheaper is still DC prices, meaning it’s not cheap at all. But it’s what I needed. I needed the extra security in the building. I didn’t feel safe without it. I got my apartment for cheaper than it’s worth, but it’s still a pretty penny. It’s the one thing I choose to spend a large amount on. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to sleep.
I’ve been there, done that.
I don’t want to feel bad for the money, but I do. I know where that comes from. I know how it’s earned, and I do feel somewhat responsible, even if I shouldn’t.
Groaning, I run my fingers through my hair, thinking about what I should do. There has to be something in here that I can use. Something that can get me out of this mess.
I don’t know how much time I have.
I race to his closet, throwing it open and looking along the ground to find something. Anything. I have no idea what I’m looking for, but this is the only chance I have. These people aren’t going to let me go home.
Ronan keeps his things neat. His closet is full of mostly black slacks hung neatly over hangers, black suit jackets, and white button-up shirts. The floor is lined with various shoes, so shiny they reflect the little light above.
Crawling along the back, I run my fingers across the floor, along the baseboards, and under shoes before standing up and doing the same to the ledge above. Not even a speck of dust comes away on my fingers, and I start to lose hope.
Closing the door gently, I go to his dresser, opening the smallest to find rolls upon rolls of neat black socks piled neatly. I move my fingers under them, careful not to displace them too much, but needing to see if there’s anything there. Everyone keeps shit in their sock drawer, right? There’s gotta be secrets in here.
But I don’t find anything. I move on, opening each drawer and finding, well, not much. Every drawer is neat, and every drawer is full of simple, neutral clothing.
There’s nothing fun, much less anything I can actually use.
I can feel my panic growing in my gut as I move around the room, snooping around everything I can see. Finally, I move onto the bed, peeking underneath.
