“Oh, for fucks sake!” I said, throwing my hands up in irritation.
Before he had a chance to react I grabbed him by the lapels of his suit jacket and forced him backwards into the ladies restroom, kicking the door shut behind me.
“I think you broke my nose!” he said, his voice full of disbelief. Whether it was because a girl had hit him or that I’d been the one to do it, I didn’t know, and didn’t really care.
“Oh, you’ll be fine. Don’t be such a big baby,” I said, grabbing a handful of paper towels out of the dispenser on the wall and pushing them into his hands. All the while I was trying to school my features into an expression of emotionless detachment, not wanting to let him see my guilt, or my worry at the fount of blood that was his nose.
That doesn’t look good.
Glaring at me around the mass of crumpled, bloody paper towels with angry eyes, he looked like a petulant child, and try as I might my brow creased into a guilty frown.
“I really am sorry,” I said.
He didn’t say anything in response, opting instead to continue to glare daggers at me.
“You know I’m still going to leave, right?” I asked, hoping he’d just nod and let me go.
“I can’t let you do that,” he replied, reaching towards his gun with one bloody hand.
“You’d really shoot me, Tillman? Rather than letting me leave, you’d put a bullet in me?”
I saw the doubt the instant it began to bloom on his face and was certain he’d never pull his weapon on me unless I was a real threat. I rushed him before he changed his mind and did something we’d both regret, aiming my shoulder into his stomach as I drove him back into the handicapped stall. He went down in a tangle of long, flailing limbs, landing on the toilet, narrowly missing falling into the water. While he fought to keep his ass out of the water I grabbed the handcuffs from his belt.
The traces of silver in the metal made my fingers itch, but I ignored it as I snapped one end closed over his wrist. Turning shocked eyes on me, he paused in his awkward flailing and turned his attention to trying to wrest the cuffs out of my grip. Despite my clumsy attempts at trying to knock him out like a movie kung-fu master, I was still considerably stronger than him. Or at least, I would have been if I hadn’t been weak from my injuries. As it was, we were fairly evenly matched, and it was only his prone position that gave me enough of an upper hand to loop the cuff over the handicap rail and snap it shut on his other wrist. Before he had a chance to cuss me out, or worse yet, call for help, I grabbed his tie and shoved it in his mouth.
Stepping back I ran shaking hands over the front of my shirt, smearing a few stray drops of blood in the process. Wiping his blood off my fingers I surveyed my handiwork, doing my best to ignore his furious stare, or how pathetic he looked with his striped tie hanging out of his mouth, and what looked like a gallon of blood smeared over the lower half of his face.
Spotting the gun still in its holster on his hip I leaned forward and gingerly removed it, hoping that the safety was on and I wouldn’t accidently shoot either one of us in the foot. Crossing the room to the trash can set into the wall, I pushed aside several paper towels and offered him an apologetic shrug of my shoulders before dropping his gun inside.
“Aw, man!” he mumbled around the gag.
“Just making sure you don’t try to do anything stupid,” I explained, covering the gun with more paper towels.
He growled something at me that I couldn’t quite make out. Judging by the bitter anger in his eyes, that was probably for the best.
“Well, I don’t think you’re likely to bleed to death, and I’m sure it won’t be long before someone comes along and finds you. I hope someday you’ll be able to forgive me, but I understand if you don’t.” Pausing, I reached out to brush a stray lock of hair off his forehead and added, “I’m sorry Tillman. You’re a good guy, too good for the likes of me.” Pulling back from my touch he turned his face away, refusing to look at me.
Leaving him in the bathroom shouting muffled obscenities at my back, I glanced both ways down the hallway to make sure I was alone and then ducked into the stairwell. Taking the steps two at a time I propelled myself down the stairs as fast as my battered body would allow. It wouldn’t take Holbrook long to figure out that I was gone or for someone to find Tillman.
Chapter 35
I BURST OUT of the stairwell into the lobby and slowed to a leisurely walk, smoothing my hair and wiping the sheen of sweat from my brow. I did everything I could to project the appearance of casual innocence short of whistling a jaunty tune as I scoped out the lobby.