Page 65 of Prey for You

I shoved forward in the seat, caught by my seatbelt, which was probably a good thing because I wanted to crawl up there and start punching him.

“I didn’t know it was Sam! Inever wanted you to take Sam and you fucking know it!”

“Newsflash, Bridget,yes you did.Because you told me to take Cain, and Sam and Cain are the same fucking person!”

I knew he thought that was true. And I knew legally it was. But he didn’t understand… in my mind, they’d been two different people. I didn’t know Cain’s edge was balanced by Sam’s compassion. I hadn’t known Sam’s morality was balanced by Cain’s darkness.

If I’d known, I never would have handedeitherof them over.

“…what’s gotten into you. I thought we were on the same page here. I thought you were playing the game because you understood. All anyone is trying to do is protect you and women like you—”

“No, you aren’t!” I shouted. “You’re all out there whipping out your dicks and trying to prove who canfuck someone else harder.Well you can take your macho bullshit to someone else’s party. I’m done! Sam is innocent and youknow itand you’re just trying to prove a point!”

“You think the legal system of the United States of America gives two shits what points Jeremy Haines has to make? Wake up, Bridget: Your guy is violent. He’s a pervert. And thesecondyou succeed in getting him off, he’s going to destroy you.”

“No, he’s not!”

“You’re right he’s not, because whether you’re a pain in the ass or not, I’m going to make sure he gets put back in a cage where he belongs!”

I almost did it. I almost put my fist through the window. Or ran. Or… something. My body wastwitching,I was so tense. I wanted to scream. If the clone hadn’t been there, I would have. And I could tell Jeremy knew it.

He cursed and turned his eyes back to the road again, muttering to himself under his breath. But he didn’t throw anything else at me.

Fucker always knew when I was walking the line and he always backed off so I couldn’t accuse him of going too far.

Fuck.

Fuck!

I tucked the phone back into my pocket and folded my arms. Yet, it wasn’t enough. I didn’t feel solid. I wrapped my arms around my middle, hugging the seatbelt to me, but that wasn’t enough either. Pretty soon, uncertain whether I was going to cry or scream, I hunched forward in my seat, holding my pieces together.

I felt like I was coming apart at the seams.

“You can’t keep me from him,” I whispered, over and over again. “You can’t do it. He’s mine. You don’t understand. You can’t keep me from him…”

I wasn’t sure if they didn’t hear me, or just didn’t care, but thank god Jeremy didn’t have any more commentary for me.

When we pulled up at stark, unmarked back parking lot of the local FBI office, I was out of the car and running inside before Jeremy opened his door.

Security had to let me in and for a second I was bouncing on my heels, ready to bolt. But Jeremy must have signaled to them from behind me, because a moment later the dude nodded, then opened the door and let me through.

I ran into the building and to the elevators.

I knew where we were going. And if this was going to happen, then we needed to get it done so I could get out of here.

I needed to getthe fuck out of here.

21. Double-Team

~ BRIDGET ~

I ignored everyone on Jeremy’s floor, grabbed a couple snacks from the basket they kept in the office and walked straight to the open interview room, slamming the door before plopping myself down in the corner of the couch. Kicking off my shoes, I lifted my feet up onto the cushions and fixed my glare on the two-way mirror in case there was anyone in there.

By the time Gerald arrived, I was halfway through the second bag of Cheetos.

When the door opened I wasn’t sure it would be him. Wasn’t sure if Jeremy would decide to lecture me some more, or if he was pouting. When it was Gerald’s mostly shining pate and glasses that appeared, I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved, or offended.

It was part of thearrangementI had with the FBI, that I would always be assessed psychologically after any major events—arrests, testimony… almost getting skewered by a psychotic rage-beast—to ensure that I was “safe” before I was left alone.

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