Burning Bridges

Chapter 6: The Highway Don't Care

(i know it's been REAL long since i last updated! so here's a new chapter! and it's got a major clue...tell me if you can figure it out...Scarlett couldn't...but let's do the game shall we??? tell me if you find something! ;) and don't forget to hit that vote, maybe? )

Chapter 6: The Highway Don’t Care

“OW! STOP HITTING ME!!” Tristan complained as I gave him another blow to his head. His left hand caught mine in a swift movement, his fingers tightening around my wrist, sending a strange shock wave through my body, and equally fast, he  pushed me off as he stood up on his feet, disabling me from giving his skull another bruise.

“you are felons! I hacked into FBI’s records and guess what? There are no agents named Tristan Bell and Nathan Webber. “I made a face on the word agents, but continued anyway, “If you don’t tell me who the hell you are, inspecting murders if not committing them too, I’m calling the cops!” I threatened, glaring at him, but Tristan seemed more pre-occupied with his watch more than anything. He looked up at me, fake innocence lining his face.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” he smiled naively.

“yes. I said that I want to know EVERYTHING that you know. Everything.” I advanced towards him, more towards the desk to my right, knowing very well that there was a pistol in it somewhere. If things got ugly, I’ll take him down with me, I swear, “what do you want from my dad?”

“look, we obviously got off on the wrong foot, and I’m sorry I cannot tell you anything, but let me tell you this” he looked serious now, the scar on the neck distracting me from his devastatingly persuasive face as his blue eyes were boring straight into me, “I are not here to hurt you.”

“yeah, I bet that’s what the Hannibal dude said when he was butchering up those people for lunch!” I snorted, fully aware that he was trying to evade my real question.

“Scarlett, was it?” he inquired.

“I’ll give you mine, if you give me yours.” I said, unflinchingly, “ Tristan can’t really be your real name.”

“it is Dave.” He said and his left brow twitched a bit. I smiled to myself, realizing that he was lying.

“it’s not Dave either.” I said with a straight face.

“well, it it’s Tristan then and that’s all you’re gonna know for now.” he growled as he was advancing towards the door, his azure eyes still on mine, “seriously, stop screwing around and let me do my job,” he said as he went back to examining the bookshelf. His fingers feeling every dent and every convex with furrowed concentration.

For a second, I forget all about his demeanor and traced his every action with scrutiny. If this guy knew what he was doing (and it looked like he was) he must be aware of something that I wasn’t. Form the look on his face, I could tell he thought I was a little kid and I wouldn’t really understand what he was doing. I wish someone would give me a chance to understand and stop treating me like a five-year old.

“what are you looking for?” I asked, curiously watching everything that he was doing with the bookshelf.

“shhh..shhh..” he shushed me, which sent my blood boiling, as he went back to examining the floor and knocking on the walls and the floorboards.

“what. Are. You. Doing?” I repeated through clenched teeth, well aware that I was annoying the crap out of him and somehow enjoying it a bit.

He gave me one of those blank stare looks, his sapphire eyes staring right into mine emotionlessly, somewhat guarded and lost, and after acting like time had stopped for five whole seconds, he resumed his job of knocking at the walls. Sheesh. Talk about creepy.