Page 5 of Jump or Fall
Muffled voices drifted around her, indistinct, instructing someone to take her home.
A car. She climbed inside.
Mara glanced in the bag next to her.
Her bag.
Good, her tablet was inside. Had she remembered to grab it? Maybe someone else had. At least her secret tablet was safely at home.
Home. That was close.
Dawson’s car. The familiar sights and scents.
He's watching.
Mara's attention drifted to the driver in the rearview mirror.
Max. Beady brown eyes fixed on her.
She rolled her neck, trying to work out the stiffness. Then she flexed her fingers and observed the bruise across her knuckles. If the soreness in her limbs was anything to go by, it was hardly the only one.
A faint itch along her sides caught her attention. Dried blood.
Dawson must have cut her again.
Why couldn’t that count as the stripe? It didn’t happen often, and the cuts were rarely deep, but he still drew blood.
Max remained locked on her. How could he even focus on the road?
“Getting a good look,” she said dully, “or do you just get off on listening?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “I don't see any silver on your fingers. Are you going to be his bitch forever?”
Max chuckled. “At least I don’t have to suck anyone’s dick to keep my job.”
The car slowed to a stop, and she shoved the door open before he could make a show of holding it for her. She had no tolerance for the phony chivalry today.
“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered.
He moved to follow, but she spun around, her voice sharp. “I don’t need your help getting in or out of any doors.”
“I’m supposed to take you home.”
The wordsfuck offwere seconds from leaving her mouth, but they weren’t supposed to let their mutual disdain show in public.
Instead, she jabbed a finger toward the building. “Mission complete.”
A muscle twitched under his eye, but he waved her off and climbed back into the driver’s seat. If he had continued to linger, she would’ve screamed. She couldn’t pretend anymore.
Mara pressed her thumb to the entrance panel, impatiently waiting for the click.
She took the stairs to the fifth floor. The elevator would have been too quick; the longer she could avoid being idle with her own thoughts, the better.
Once at her door, she scanned her thumb to unlock it and rushed inside, tossing her bag to the floor beside the couch.
Silence pressed in, heavy and all consuming.
