Page 21 of The Fallen
“Right.” He gets up, looks around until he finds his keys. “I’ll go and get something. Guests aren't a thing here.”
“Okay, thank you.” My eyes drift over to his computers at the other end of the room. If I’m alone, I could take a look and really understand what he's capable of.
“Don’t touch my shit.”
I snap my eyes back. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“I don’t believe you.” His eyes narrow at me.
“If we’re working together, we need to learn to trust each other.”
“Trust is earned.” He almost snarls the word, and it’s clear I’ve done nothing to earn anything but suspicion so far. But then I wouldn’t put Noah down as someone who trusts easily, anyway.
“Do you trust anyone?” I can’t keep the question from tumbling out.
The scowl tells me probably not.
“I’ll be back in half an hour. I’ll know if you’ve checked my system. Leave it alone.”
“I have my own computer, you know.”
“Didn’t stop you eyeing up mine. Hands off.”
I put my hands up in mock surrender, watching as he grabs a brown leather jacket off one of the old kitchen chairs, gives me a final once over, and then slams the backdoor behind him.
I sit motionless for a few moments, listening to the occasional crack and pop of the wood as it shifts under the flames. Despite my close position, I’m still cold, so I add a couple of the logs from the pile to the fire, stoking it up until it’s burning hotter. There’s a stillness to the house – to this farm – that I’d never have associated with him. It seems so homely. Lived in.
With the fire now pumping out some heat, I stand and take a better look around the place. Of course, my curiosity is piqued, and all I want to do is wiggle the mouse on the desk. He’s got three monitors, all positioned around a chair and a wireless keyboard – a couple of hard drives and other kits. A dozen cables all spider web over the end of the table and trail on the floor.
My fingers itch to wake it all up – to fly across the keys and show him I can get in and out without him even knowing I’ve touched a thing. But that would be wrong, and I meant what I said about trust. So I walk in the opposite direction and retrieve my bag from the kitchen.
The sight of a shotgun tucked in a corner by the door makes me flinch. It’s not really all that surprising, I suppose, but it does make me question more about the man I’ve just agreed to sleep with. I shake my head and grab my bag. He’s saved me once already and let me go when he could have taken me straight to Tallington when he had the chance.
Stocking up on a couple more items of clothing would be useful. I left the black outfit that I brought for the funeral in the hotel. There’s no way I’d wear it again knowing why I needed it in the first place. I might not have attended formally, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to show my respects as best I could. But the sight of them when I got back to the hotel was too much, so I left them behind before I came back here.
Following Noah wasn’t my initial plan, but it soon presented itself when he stopped following me. When I was sure that this was the only possible building he lived in, I tracked back to the hotel and crossed my fingers that this would work.
The fridge is stocked with a dozen bottles of beer, milk, and a couple of other random jars and packets. One pack of bacon. Nothing of great interest in the cupboards either other than some white bread. And because the house is small, it means I’m back around to those damn computers again.
I shake my head and start for the stairs. They creak something fierce, and the further away from the main room I get, the colder I feel. There are no lights on up here, and I run my hand along the wall looking for a switch.
Finally, before I start stumbling around, I find it and illuminate the area. One door leads to a plain and tidy bathroom, another to a room full of storage boxes and junk, which leaves one last room. I push the heavy wooden door and peer around it.
The room smells cool and fresh, and a big bed dominates the area. It's covered with an old, thick, patchwork bedspread, reminiscent of generations before us perhaps, and matching the feel of the room. I can see a large window that must look over the fields surrounding the farm, but darkness spills into the space from outside, creating shadows from nothing.
This is Noah’s room.
The only bedroom here.
I pop my head back out and double-check I didn’t miss another door and then rush downstairs to do another survey of the rooms. There’s still no second bedroom hidden away for me. Kitchen. Lounge. And what was probably an adjacent dining room now turned into his office.
My heart beats a little faster at the idea of sharing a bed with him. Which is such a stupid thing, considering I’ve made a bargain to have sex with him in order for help. But sex, as he said, doesn’t mean sleeping. But with one bed, there’ll be no choice. Lying next to his body all night. So close to him …
I return upstairs to turn off the light and leave everything how it was before I looked around, and then resign myself to wait patiently for him to come back. The bedroom situation has me rattled - distracted. But it’s too late to do anything about involving Noah. I need him. I need him back, and then maybe, we’ll get on with starting this stupid deal I’ve made with him. I eye up the small couch in front of the fire, hoping …. I can’t imagine Noah fitting on there, though.
Putting another couple of logs on the fire while he's gone, I plug my laptop in, set on double-checking my previous data on Lewis. After finding out there is only one bed here, I don’t need any more surprises. I end up getting so lost in the research and I don’t notice the time.
“Back!” The loud bang of the back door accompanies Noah’s welcome.
