Page 87 of Don't Game Me
Jake’s cell phone rang. Neither of them moved.
“That ride with Noah wasn’t at all awkward,” she said sarcastically.
“My place is safer than his. If he hadn’t agreed, you’d be somewhere else.”
“If Tori wasn’t waiting for him at his place, he’d be here right now to chaperone. After today…” The numbers on the microwave clock blurred. She hated for him to see her cry again.
“Becca…” The warmth of his body surrounded hers. His arms closed around her. “You’re safe here. The lobby? Perhaps not, but up here, no one gets in unless I allow it.”
She rested her head on his chest, grateful for the security he offered. Taking a deep breath, she met his gaze. His six o’clock shadow, the straight line of his nose and the mild disarray of his hair… God, he was so beautiful. But distant.
“Come on,” he whispered. “Time to sleep. I’d pick you up, but I’m weak as hell. You’d never let me hear the end of it if I dropped you.” He took her hand and propelled her into an unfamiliar bedroom she hadn’t realized existed as a part of his apartment.
She sat on the edge of the bed, wincing at the twinge of pain along the crease of her stomach. An ugly bruise had spread over most of her skin when she’d peeked at it hours ago. The ache was dull, but she was lucky. The bullet hit the bulletproof vest, not a leg or an arm or her head.
She was lucky for so many things.
Air hitched in her throat as her heart swelled with the heightened emotions of the day and with everything she felt for Jake.
But he didn’t move toward her like she wanted. She wished to trace his lips with her fingers and kiss him. She needed him to say something. Instead, he just stood there, watching her from the doorway.
She said, “You’re not going to forgive me, are you?”
His gaze darkened.
She clenched her hands together. “Quan advised I not tell you what was going on. If I had, would you have gone through with it? Gone downstairs with me to get her to talk?”
“Probably not.”
“I did it to protect you and to catch Symphis. I didn’t know she planned to drug you.”
A long hiss of air escaped him. “But you suspected…no, you hoped she’d shoot at you. You prepared for it with an elaborate fake-death set up. You lucked out that for some bizarre reason she hit you in the chest or stomach like you hoped. I can’t believe Quan bet your life on the fact she’d go for that.” His face scrunched up. “The whole thing doesn’t add up for me, but I’m too fucking tired to process all of it right now. I can’t pretend I like how it happened.” Softly, he added, “You scared the hell out of me.”
“Jake…”
He turned to leave but paused to say over his shoulder, “Stay as long as you need.”
She had no clue where they stood nor what she wanted from him at this point. He was right. She should sleep off the drug to figure this out on a clear head.
She wanted to ask about Michael and if he’d talked to Quan but wasn’t about to bother Jake again. Attempting to sleep in the too-quiet room failed after a few minutes. Then she was using Jake’s landline. When Michael picked up, she said, “It’s Becca. Did you speak with Quan?”
“Becca? You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good. I got spooked. That’s all.”
“This whole thing has been insane. I did talk to Quan via phone. Lisi must’ve been hiding some sort of poison, at least that’s what the NSA thinks. She was Symphis. It’s over.”
“It doesn’t feel like it’s done. I thought that woman was about to tell me something before Quan came into the room. Then they talked about games before she died.”
“Don’t worry about it tonight. Sleep on it. We can talk tomorrow.”
Becca woke up as alone in the bed as she’d been when she conked out after speaking with Michael. And still in her bra. She’d managed to get out of her jeans last night before passing out.
She stared at the ceiling for a few moments, and then yanked off the covers, missing their warmth. The bedside clock read six-fifty.
The smell of coffee beckoned. She stalked to the kitchen in her T-shirt.
Jake stood at the stove with a spatula in one hand, his other hand scrolling through screens of a document on his laptop. Multi-tasking at its finest.
