Page 43 of Cautious

Christian is impeccably dressed as always in his dark expensive suit and matching tie, looking like he just left the office instead of the hospital where he kidnapped someone. His salt and pepper hair is slicked back, not a strand out of place, his imposing frame coiled tight, ready to pounce.

The other guy is dressed in a suit too, but you can tell it’s not the same caliber as Christian’s. He’s younger than him, but not by much—late thirties, early forties maybe—the strands of gray only just beginning to lighten his dark hair. He appears less put together and less confident. The look of resignation on his features makes Christian’s stare feel more malevolent.

“Where am I?” I whisper.

“Beside me, exactly where you’re supposed to be,” Christian spits out as the other guy grabs my wrist, holding it tight as I struggle.

It takes me a moment to realize he’s checking my pulse.

“It’s a little fast,” he tells Christian before letting go.

Of course it’s fast. I’m scared out of my freaking mind.

I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath, psyching myself up for what I’m about to do. I’ve never been a very good actress, and now I find myself about to play the role of a lifetime.

“Who are you? Where am I?” I ask Christian, having zero difficulty making a few tears slip free.

Christian’s scowl slips, his face now wearing a confused frown as he looks at the guy next to me. “John?”

“Callie, what’s the last thing you remember?”Johnasks me, his voice soft and cajoling.

I close my eyes and pretend to think really hard, wincing as the throbbing in my head grows in intensity.

“I don’t know. I…” Shit, how far back to go? At this point, I doubt it matters. He’ll either buy it or he won’t. But if I can pretend I don’t remember him at all, he might be able to hold off on being a dick long enough for me to find a way out of here.

“I was on my way home from work…?” I end in a question to show how unsure I am.

“And where do you work, Callie?” he asks me, stepping closer to the bed. I have to fight the urge to move away.

“I just started at Barney’s as a waitress.”

This was true once upon a time, but it feels like a lifetime ago now.

“Callie, what year is it?” Christian finally asks, placing his hand on my shoulder like an anchor weighing me down.

Don’t flinch. Don’t flinch. Don’t you fucking flinch, Callie.

I repeat the words in my head, biting down on the inside of my cheek as I fight to keep the revulsion from my features.

“It’s 2017,” I tell him, going for broke. I hold back my sigh of relief when a look of glee fills his face.

Bingo, got you, you son of a bitch.

“What? What’s happening?” I play up my part, letting him see how confused and scared I am.

And the Oscar goes to…

I might have missed my calling after all. They turn and walk away from me, muttering to themselves, but I can hear them just fine. I don’t know if this is some kind of test, whether they are waiting for me to react to their words, so I play dumb and keep quiet.

“Is it the drugs?” Christian asks quietly.

“It’s possible. People often react badly to this stuff, although I’ve never seen a case of amnesia linked to them before. You said she was bleeding from a head wound when you found her?”

Christian is quiet for a moment while I send up a thanks to the assholes who hit our car that resulted in my head meeting the dashboard.

“The guys must have hit her car harder than necessary.” His voice sounds angry now.

So those assholes were working for Christian. Shit, we played right into their hands. I hope Kellen’s okay.

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