Page 11 of Cipher's Baby Girl
There's that word again. Why does everyone here use it so freely, applying it to someone they barely know?
"Besides," he continues, "no woman should be scrubbing toilets used by a bunch of filthy bikers." His grin returns. "We're disgusting. It's not fit work for a lady."
Lady?Despite myself, I laugh—a small, rusty sound I barely recognize as my own. "I've dealt with worse."
His smile fades, replaced by something darker. "Yeah, I bet you have." He seems to make a decision, holding out his hand. "Give me that brush."
"What?"
"The toilet brush. Hand it over."
Confused, I pass him the brush. To my astonishment, he kneels and begins scrubbing where I left off.
"What are you doing?" I ask, bewildered.
“Finishing this up so you can do something that doesn't involve other people's piss," he says matter-of-factly. "Go take a walk outside or something. Or better yet, veg out in front of the TV. Just relax for once."
I stand frozen, unable to process this strange role reversal. No one has ever taken work from me to make my life easier. Work always gets added, never subtracted.
"I can't let you do that," I protest weakly.
He looks up, his expression kind but firm. "You're notlettingme do anything. I'm choosing to. There's a difference." He turns back to the toilet. "Besides, I spent two years cleaning these nasty-ass bathrooms. I'm a pro."
I hover uncertainly for a moment, then slowly back toward the door. "Thank you," I manage, the words feeling inadequate.
"No problem, little sis," he says casually, not looking up from his task.
Little sis. The nickname is like a blanket around my shoulders, warm and comforting. I've never been anyone's sister, never been part of anything resembling normal family dynamics. The casual kindness is more disorienting than any cruelty could be, and I leave the bathroom feeling oddly off-balance, as if the ground beneath my feet has shifted slightly.
I’m smiling—a genuine smile. Not a huge smile, but a smile nonetheless.
As I pass the surveillance room—a door marked “Cipher’s Cave” that always remains closed—I notice that today, it's cracked open slightly, a sliver of blue light spilling into the hallway.
I should keep walking, I know that. But my curiosity is too much, and I slow my steps until I find myself peering through the narrow opening.
My pulse picks up when my eyes land on Cipher sitting before a wall of monitors, his broad back to the door, shoulders tense beneath his black t-shirt. The muscles in his forearms flex as his fingers move over a keyboard. On the screens before him are multiple views of the compound—the common room, hallways, entrances, and...
My breath catches as I recognize an image of myself—standing where I was just moments ago outside the hall restroom—frozen on a monitor. Was he watching me?
The idea sends an excited tingle through me, and a warm feeling starts in my chest and radiates outward. He may have been keeping his distance, but he hasn't exactly been avoiding me completely. Not if he’s still keeping me in sight, right? I mean, it still counts, doesn’t it?
Gah! I don’t even know. I’m so stupid, so stunted when it comes to having any kind of social skills.
Before I can process this discovery, or what it means, Cipher stiffens, his head turning slightly as if sensing my presence.
His cold eyes lock with mine, narrowing with unmistakable hostility.
I can do nothing but freeze under his venomous glare, my body tensing as he rises from his chair in one fluid motion. His huge form moves with surprising speed, crossing the room in three long, angry strides.
My knees feel weak. I should run. Or say something. Or... I don't know.
He reaches the doorway, towering over me…
And slams the door in my face with such force that the air blows my hair back and a loud bang echoes through the hallway. I stand there stunned, drowning in a painful flood of hurt and embarrassment.
Chapter 4
Cipher
