Page 29 of Wicked Devotion
Max shakes his head. “Don’t piss off Rockwell. Mr. Holton is his problem, and I don’t want to risk anything as long as we’re hiding her on base.”
“Speaking of hiding her on base,” I say, turning my head to look at Max, “I’m still waiting to hear about your great plan, sunshine.”
“I’ll come up with something,” he says, playing around with my lighter. “Soon,” he adds when I glare at him.
I have a feeling that this is going to blow up all around us like Max’s side projects usually do.
12
LILY
After Max left, I tried to fall asleep to make the time until he’d come back pass faster. My mind had other plans. Thoughts ran through my head like a freight train, shame, guilt, worry, attraction, self-doubt, and anticipation interwoven in a way that made it impossible to discern one from the other.
When I can’t stand the chaos in my head any longer, I get up and distract myself by looking through the countless shelves and filing cabinets. Because no matter how comfortable Max tried to make this room, there’s not much for me to do in there apart from getting lost in self-destructive thoughts and sleeping.
During our talk yesterday, he didn’t mention anything about the witness protection program, and I decided against bringing it up. Rushing him would be rude, and if the process is anything like getting things approved by the administration office at my workplace, it’s going to cost him enough time, even without me constantly asking about it.
It feels a bit wrong to admit it, but a part of me wouldn’tmind spending more time with Max; and with Logan, who probably doesn’t feel the same.
Hours pass while I wait for them. At least, I’m pretty sure they do since my only way to estimate the time depends on the rays of sunshine trailing over the bed until they reach the wall. As they wander over to the desk, reflecting on the bullet casing Logan left here, they illuminate the dust specks hanging in the air. When the light turns golden, I wonder if I messed up yesterday and if Logan and Max are currently trying to come up with a plan to get rid of me.
“I need to have a talk with whoever is responsible for filing the damn documents,” a man grumbles, and my body tenses.
“Doubt we’ll find anything up here,” another man responds. “Oldest date on here says 2020, and most of this shit is admin stuff.”
Papers are shuffled in the room next door, mixed with the sounds of tired sighs.
“Arthur, c’mon, let’s go. We’re wasting time. And yes, I know Cantrell trusts you, but why on earth would they put classified shit like this inourbuilding. Would make more sense to look in his damn office, if anything,” the man adds, a little quieter.
Just when I want to exhale in relief, the door flies open. Mortified, I jump up from the bed. Hiding is pointless; the inflatable mattress will raise questions either way.
“Please tell me you see her too, Sam,” one of them mutters, and without the flimsy door separating us, I’m sure I’ve heard his voice before.
“Yeah,” the other man answers, confusion plastered all over his face.
“What in God’s name are you doing in this room?” the older man asks, and before I can answer, he lifts his hand to silence me. “Wait,” he mutters at the exact moment he putstwo and two together in his head. “Did Vaughn and Cabrera bring you here? Did they tell you you have to stay here?”
“No. Yes. I mean, kind of?” I stammer, looking from one man to the other.
A vein on his neck throbs as he pulls his phone out and dials a number. When the call connects, he doesn’t waste a second to scream into the phone.
“You and your buddy get your asses up to the fourth floor immediately,” he seethes, and I want to disappear.
“You look different, now that you’re clean and conscious,” the other, massive guy says, adding, “Wait, are you wearing Vaughn’s stuff?” with a snort.
I worry my bottom lip, and he laughs, shaking his head. We hear Logan and Max before they even reach the room.
“I fucking told you—“ Logan snarls at Max, lifting his hand to slap the back of his head once they reach the doorway, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.
“Silence,” the older man bellows. “This,” he points at me, “is inexcusable.”
“It’s not their fault,” I try to defuse the situation, but a single glance from who I assume is their superior is enough to make me shut up.
“My office, now,” he orders before storming off, muttering, “fucking mental asylum,” when he passes Logan and Max.
“You guys are so fucked,” the big one says, holding back laughter. “That’s a textbook case for highly unprofessional behavior.”
“Maybe they can add it after the chapter explaining how you’re not supposed to rail the daughter of your target, Samuel,” Max snaps back while he walks up to me.
