Troy studies me, hiding his thoughts until I'm nervous. Is he angry? Have I pushed him into thinking I'm not worth the trouble?
"You make me feel, Darla," he says in a low and almost menacing voice. "You make me need in a way I hate, but I can't let go. Once you're healthy, I'll never have to let go. Fucking is just one of the many benefits of having you. One of many, many benefits so get your head out of the gutter, young lady."
I narrow my eyes at him yet can't help laughing. "Young lady."
"You're young and a lady, live with it."
Smiling, I look around the restaurant at the few other patrons. Even without being on display, I fear the open space around me. Anyone could be watching us and planning to attack. Yet Troy doesn't seem bothered. Saskia isn't concerned either.
"What if someone came in here with a gun?" I whisper to Troy, who is still working on his food.
"I'd shoot him, even though he'd already be dead from Saskia's shot. She's a showoff, you know?"
I don't smile at his joke. "If you died because of me, I wouldn't want to live."
Troy sets aside his fork and cups my face. "But you would live. Life might kick you around, but you just keep going. Some people can't, but you have something strong inside you. Something sexy too."
"What if I can never give you what you want?"
"I'll grow old waiting. I was planning on growing old anyway, so it won't be a big deal."
Grinning despite my uneasiness, I can't deny the power of his magnetic smile. I don't want to finish my food, surprising even me. I lean against Troy while he finishes his lunch. My gaze on the large tank at the center of the restaurant, I watch the fish swimming in a circle. Do they know they're trapped and at the mercy of their captors? Often with Locke, I forgot he was my tormentor. I only wanted to please him so that I might avoid the pain for a little bit longer. Every day was a struggle to survive the waking hours.
Even free, I still only focus on simply surviving.
27
~~~
Troy
Foolish Beast
The drive from the aquarium back to the apartment is a tense one. Even knowing the contractor from earlier isn't on our tail, I worry about Locke's ability to bring more people into the picture. How many has he hired? They won't all make mistakes like the one from today. Zivkovic likely hunted his target for days, studying weaknesses and waiting for the best time to attack. He took care of the two retired cops, but the panic room is what did him in. Without it, I'd never know Darla, and Locke would have his Rose back.
Two detectives are waiting for us at the apartment. We insist they talk with Darla in a small conference room on the main level. The two detectives don't look happy to take orders. The Hispanic woman talks with Saskia and me. I think she's uncomfortable around Darla. The male detective doesn't have that problem.
Standing too closely, he speaks to Darla in a soft voice. Despite his gentle tone, her gaze remains on the floor. Occasionally, she shakes her head. I don't know why he needs to ask her questions when we made clear she didn't see anything.
"Next time something like this happens, we ask you avoid going into hiding without alerting the police to your whereabouts first," Detective Perez tells me.
"No," Saskia answers. "Are we done?"
Perez and Saskia have a girl-on-girl stare contest. I ignore them while watching Darla. The detective still speaks to her in a soft voice, and she finally looks at him. A weird moment passes between them, and I nearly pull my gun.
Saskia pats my hand reaching for the weapon. I frown at her, but she only frowns back. Perez has lost interest in the both of us and lack of answers.
I walk across the room and stand between Detective Playboy and Darla.
"You're done."
"I have a few more questions," he says, focusing on Darla.
I shield her from his sight. "No, you're done. Any other questions will go through her lawyer."
The detective stares at me in a pathetic attempt to intimidate. Cops are never scary because they have rules while I don't. The lawless are inherently stronger.
"We're done here," I repeat, taking Darla by the arm and lifting her up from the chair.
Darla mumbles something, and I'm unsure if she's talking to me or the detective. Either way, she allows me to guide her out of the conference room and to the elevator where Saskia holds the door open.
Once in the elevator, Darla cowers in the corner away from us. She's spiraling again, clutching to the drug induced darkness she believes she needs to survive. I struggle against the urge to reach out and keep her squarely in the present with me. Saskia stands very obviously between Darla and me, forcing us apart.
We exit the elevator, and Darla shuffles towards the apartment door. When Saskia unlocks the door, Darla barely waits for it to open before hurrying inside.
"We'll be outside talking strategy for a moment," Saskia says.
Nodding, Darla doesn't look at me. She hurries further into the apartment while I frown at Saskia, who shuts the door.