"You’re worried about me getting picked up by someone who works for the government, yet they’re probably listening to us right now," I tell him. As the words roll off my tongue, I consider the truth in what I’m saying. I also consider the possibility of being stopped on my way out of here. If I do get out, I think leaving this state might be my best option after all, but I don’t think that’ll help me in the long run. I’m screwed. They’ll find me, one way or another.
Mason looks down in thought. "I know you'll never turn those files in. It would cause so much more harm than good, and you’re a good person, Harley. The damage the two of us have already caused should be enough to keep us from wanting to learn more." He’s fucking with my head so badly, I’m having trouble seeing straight or figuring out what I should do. If I turn in the files, I’ll clear my name. On the other hand, according to Mason, if I turn the files in, I’ll also help the government be destructive. Is that the world we’re living in? How the hell am I supposed to know whether or not to believe what Mason is saying?
"The two of us did not cause damage. You did," I tell him. "I think you made it clear; I was nothing more than your apprentice sidekick, and you know what? I know you need the files so you can turn them in to the feds by the end of your sentence. I know if you don’t turn them in, you’ll be in here for life. Well … enjoy the scenery because you will never see the files you sacrificed my freedom for." I smile and offer him a simple wave. "Goodbye, Mason."
"Harley—"
"No, while you sit in here for the rest of your sentence, why don’t you think about Victor Frankenstein and what he did for a living," I tell him. "I’m sure the time will go by quickly." I place my hand against the window just as he did a minute ago, and stand up from my seat, offering him a smile against the pain raging along my face.
I check out of the prison without trouble, thankfully, and head toward Chuck's SUV that hasn't moved from the spot he dropped me off in. I hear the doors unlock as I come within reach, and I open the door to slide in. "Thanks for waiting," I tell him.
"No problem, Isabelle." What the hell? I glance over, finding Axel in the driver's seat now. Should have seen this one coming too.
"Give me a break," I groan. "My name is Harley, and I'm starting to feel like I'm being watched by a tiny camera. I'd even go as far as assuming you're watching me shower, dress, and all the other fun stuff that comes along with me, huh?"
"No," he says simply, without taking his eyes off the road in front of him.
"You were probably watching me before I applied for your stupid job too, right?"
He doesn't answer this time, so I answer the question myself, judging by the look on his face. He's smirking—he's proud and smirking. "You are the one I need, Harley."
"You're a sick bastard. Did you get me evicted too?"
"No, it seemed like you had that one under control on your own," he says. "In any case, why the hell were you in that prison by yourself?"
"It's none of your business."
He exhales loudly with frustration and clears his throat. "Great, well, I don't want you in there alone again." He turns the key in the ignition and peels out of the lot.
"You don't get to tell me what to do. You're not family, you're not a friend, you're not a boyfriend, and you may or may not still be my boss. All-in-all, I think that means you don't get to tell me what to do," I tell him.
Driving faster than necessary down this empty road, Axel skids off toward the edge of a building and throws the gear in park. His seatbelt flings against the door, causing a metal thud. He twists toward me and grabs my arm, yanking me to face him. "I'm not getting into detail right now, but I've known you for a lot longer than you realize. Now, you can do your best to convince the world that you’re some chick named Harley, but I know who you really are, Isabelle Hammel."
"You're wrong. Stop saying all of that. I'm not her," I seethe with anger. "What are you? Some kind of sick stalker?"
"I don’t know. Do you have a reason to be stalked?"
"You're pissing me off," I tell him.
"Good." Axel grabs my chin with a firm grip, causing pain against the growing bruises. "When you watch someone take part in a passion that few understand, and that person looks at danger with intrigue rather than fear, it creates an unbreakable bond, whether acknowledged or not."
"That makes no sense," I say through my clenched jaw.
His hand tightens a little more, and his face moves in toward mine. What is he doing? His eyes are open wide, burning me with his stare. "This doesn't have to make sense." He drives his lips against mine and inhales thickly, leaving me with little air. Warmth fills my cheeks, my heart stumbles to beat steadily, and my stomach twists into knots as I consider pulling away, but the touch is senselessly magnetizing. Our mouths are connected with what feels to be equal compulsion, until his hand loosens around my chin, and he gently grazes his knuckles down the side of my cheek. At the same moment, the corner of his lips perk into a devilish grin, and I’m not sure I understand his reaction, nor do I know what expression he can read on my face, but it’s most likely shock and confusion because that’s all I feel. As he pulls away, the glimpse of untangled lust swimming through his eyes fades as his bottom lip drops with uncertainty. "I'm sorry," he mutters.
"For what?" I ask.
"Losing the urge to fight."
"Fight?"
"I shouldn't have done that." He slams the SUV back into drive and pulls out onto the street at the same speed he was cruising before we stopped.
We arrive back at the hotel quickly, and Axel steps out of the SUV at the same time I do, then tosses his keys to a valet guy as I reach for the hotel’s door handle. Before I have the door open wide enough to walk through, he whips it open and away from my grip. "Let's go," he says, taking me by the arm. He leads us to the entrance of the hotel, and while I want to tell him to stop because I fucking quit a few hours ago, my lips are still tingling, my chest is still taking a beating from my overcharged heart, and I just became way more excited about whatever it is he wants me to do next—even if that's using me as his next trainee for a lesson of Krav Maga.
16
Axel
I have maintained control for a long time, and I just let it all go. I want to hold her in place and demand her to tell me that she's Isabelle, and I want her to tell me who she was just seeing in prison. Was it that fuck that got Isabelle into this shit in the first place? Does she know who he really is and what he's done? Was she along for that ride?
"Why won't you let me leave?" she asks as I'm rushing her along toward the elevator.
"Because," I answer.
"No, that's not good enough. I need to get away from you," she says. The words shard through me for a different reason than they should, but either way, I can’t let her out of my sight.
"You can’t leave," I tell her.
She pushes me away from her, causing a scene in front of the elevators. "Am I your fucking prisoner now? Or what?"
"Shush. If that’s what you need to think in order to stay, then sure," I tell her.
The elevator doors open and we step inside, standing in silence for the minute it takes us to rise to the ninth floor. The short walk to her hotel room gives me time to refuel the rage I need to maintain or regain this situation.
"Let me in," I tell her.
"Don't you have a key?" she asks while reaching into her back pocket for her key.
I pull it out of my pocket and open the door before she’s able to retrieve hers, and urge her inside. I make my way over to the TV and turn it on, increasing the volume to block out any other sound that would come from this room in a minute.
"What are you doing?" she asks, her forehead wrinkling with distress. "Are you insane?"
I laugh because that's actually funny. "You wouldn’t be the first person to ask me that."
"No, no mind games. You give me answers, or I'm calling the police," she says.
This could be it. My answer.