Hunted

Together, we made short work of the first half of the sandwich, and were starting in on the second when Holbrook broke the silence. “You’d better slow down or you’re going to choke.”

 

 

Looking up I was surprised to see him watching me over the rim of his cup, his eyes tired and bloodshot but filled with affection. Washing down my last bite with a gulp of lukewarm coffee, I paused to pick an errant piece of tomato off my shirt to hide the guilt that was surely plain on my face.

 

“Anything new?” I asked, gesturing to the open file in front of him with a tilt of my chin, hoping to distract him from the remorse burning a hole in the middle of my chest.

 

Running his hand across his face, he sighed and set his cup aside. “Nothing of use. There have been plenty of reported sightings of Samson, but nothing concrete. He’s moving erratically, so we can’t track him or predict where he’s going to show up next.”

 

“What about Johnson?”

 

“We’re looking for him, but so far we’ve come up with nothing. CSU is still processing the house, so who knows, we may get lucky,” he said, forcing a tight-lipped smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

 

The talk of my two would-be assassins stole away my appetite, and where I had all but inhaled the first half of my sandwich, I could do little more than absently pick at the crust of the second before eventually tossing the rest of it onto the floor for Loki. As soon as he jumped down to demolish what was left, I went about brushing the crumbs and cat hair off my lap. It was a futile effort, in regards to the cat hair at least, but I needed something to keep my hands busy while my mind twisted itself into knots of logic. I knew one way to figure out where Samson was going to be, and that only I could lure him out.

 

It was time to quit stalling.

 

I wasn’t ready to go, but I knew that if I waited until I felt ready I’d be waiting until the end of time, and Samson would track me down and finish me off long before then. Rising from my chair, I brushed imaginary crumbs from my shirt, stealing just a few more precious moments to watch them.

 

“I’m…ah…gonna visit the ladies room,” I said, hoping Holbrook wouldn’t notice the guilty quaver in my voice.

 

“Okay. Out past the elevators to the left,” he replied without looking up, once again engrossed in the report on his desk. He looked so much like a lost little boy with his hair sticking up in a dozen different directions and a half eaten sandwich beside his elbow.

 

Lingering in the doorway I watched him, wondering if I’d ever see him again. We’d barely known each other for a week, but as sappy as it sounds, it felt like so much longer. I’d been drawn towards him from the first innocent brush of his fingers, and the events of the past few days had only worked to deepen our connection.

 

“Bye, Darius,” I whispered, and turned to walk away.

 

I got a few inquisitive looks as I strode down the hallway but no one stopped me until I had passed the elevators and was angling towards the stairs.

 

“Hey, Riley. You lost?” Tillman asked in a voice full of friendliness and innocence.

 

Shit.

 

Plastering a smile on my face that felt more like a grimace, I turned to face the exuberant young agent.

 

“Oh, hey Tillman. I was looking for the ladies room.”

 

“You’re almost there. They’re just down the hall.”

 

“Would you mind showing me?” I asked, turning up the charm, and throwing in a coy tilt of my head for good measure.

 

For a moment he didn’t look like he’d cooperate, confusion creasing his brow, but then a smile split his face as his cheeks colored.

 

“Sure thing.”

 

Damn, I guess Holbrook was right—the kid is sweet on me.

 

Gesturing for him to go ahead of me, I glanced around quickly to make sure that no one could see us, and delivered a knockout punch to the back of his head. He stumbled forward a couple of steps, but didn’t go down.

 

Aw, come on! It always looks so easy in the movies.

 

“What the hell?” he asked, rubbing the back of his head as he turned around to face me.

 

Grinning sheepishly I shrugged and said, “Sorry.”

 

“What was that for?” he demanded, shock giving way to irritation and suspicion. While one hand remained on the goose egg blooming on the back of his skull the other moved towards the gun at his hip.

 

Well, that took care of his crush at least.

 

“Sorry, Tillman. I’ve got to get out of here, and right now you’re the only thing standing in my way.”

 

“You know I can’t let you leave.”

 

“I do. That’s why I have to do this.”

 

“Do what?” he asked even as I was already winding up to sock him in the face. His eyes grew comically wide as my fist swung at him, too fast for him to dodge, and connected with his nose with an audible crunch.

 

The impact echoed up my arm, zinging the nerves in my elbow, but infuriatingly he looked like he’d stay on his feet. I watched, at the end of my patience, as his eyes filled with tears and blood gushed out of his nose.

 

“What the fuck, Riley?” he demanded through the hands cupped over his face, sounding as if his nose had been stuffed full of cotton.

 

A.J. Colby's books