"I don't really need you to."
Resting my head against his chest, I listen to his heart beating fast. My panic eases away, but I know this feeling won't last.
The clawing sensation is already rising inside me. Locke made me hate being touched. The madman's soft touch deceived the suffering I knew was around the corner. Nothing was safe. Not when I slept, not when I ate, not even when I did everything right. At any moment, his mood might shift, and I was at his mercy.
Locke isn't the man holding me, but my body only remembers the lies. I crave distance from Troy. At first, his touch feels electric and is surprisingly gentle for a man his size. The comfort only lasts maybe a minute before I'm overcome with the terror Locke infected me with. Despite the distance my mind and body crave, I plan to hold onto Troy as tightly as I can.
15
~~~
Troy
Never Explain Your Heart
I'm a man lost in heat. There's no other way to explain how Darla's on my mind the moment I doze off and still there when I wake up hours later. Sleeping and eating feel burdensome. I only want to return to the apartment and see Darla smile again.
In the elevator on my way upstairs, I get a text from Rafael. "Are you compromised?"
"Explain?" I type back.
"Are you emotionally compromised with the client?"
"Fuck off," I text back.
Rafael gives me a "LOL" and drops the subject. When Minka opens the door to the apartment, I show her my phone.
"Have you been gossiping?"
"No. I said nothing to no one. I'm loyal. I promise. Don't be mad."
Rolling my eyes at her feigned fear, I shove my phone back into my pocket.
"Saskia then."
"More likely Manny. Those married men are always digging around in other people's business."
"Fine. My fist will take it up with his face."
"I heard he's a biter, so be aware you might not get all your fingers back."
Smirking, I follow her into the security room.
"We might have a lurker," Minka says, typing on the laptop. "I noticed him when he was tying his shoes in front of the building. When I ran a scan with his features, I found four similar men have passed the building in the last 24 hours. He's staking out the place. I don't know if he's after Darla, but I called Rafael. He'll put a tail on the guy next time he comes around."
I stare at the bearded man's face frozen on the screen. He might be a simple criminal, looking to a score at any of the upscale apartments in the building. He could be an ex-boyfriend stalking a tenant. He could be many things, but I feel in my bones that he's hunting Darla.
"She's supposed to go to therapy today," Minka continues, "but I don't know if she'll leave her room at this rate."
"What's the problem?"
"She was grumpy last night. Tense about every noise. She woke up after I checked on her at six. She was in the shower for a long time. She's out now but even edgier than last night. If I had to guess, you've been a bad influence on her."
Patting her head, I smile. "You're so cute when you're insecure."
Minka glares at me, but I know she's tired and ready to head home for a nap.
"Go," I tell her.
"What if she freaks when she sees you? I should stick around just in case."
"Do what you need to do, Minka, but I have this handled."
"Sao Paulo handled or Giza handled?"
"Sao Paulo."
Minka says nothing while I make my way down the hallway. I step into Darla's bedroom and spot her curled up in the chair. Her face is hidden behind wet hair, so I don't know what to expect. She surprises me by jumping up and running to me. Her embrace isn't romantic. She's in a panic and needs me. Somehow, Darla wanting comfort is sexier than any flirting in the world.
Holding her for a long time, I feel her struggling to remain calm. My brain says to let her go before she panics. My brain isn't in charge, though, so I hold her against me with one arm. My free hand caresses her wet blonde hair.
Darla stares up at me, wanting to say something. When she doesn't, I focus on the crinkled skin between her furrowed brows. Without thinking of consequences, I lean down and kiss the spot.
Her reaction is slow moving, and I nearly see her brain working out the problem. Once she panics, though, Darla jerks away and runs to the bathroom. Again, I don't think before I follow. I find her scrubbing at the skin where I kissed.
"He kissed me there," she mutters, clawing at the spot with her nails.
I take her hands in mine and force her to face me. "I'm not Locke, and you're not Rose. That's what he called you, right?"
Nodding, she looks to the mirror, still obsessed with the spot I kissed.
"One day soon," I whisper, letting go of her hands and watching her struggle not to touch the offending spot, "Locke will be dead. I don't know if he'll end up in the ground or cremated. I just know he'll be dead, and you won't."