Fatal Attraction

Chapter Four: Fight or Flight

Isla's POV

My body reacts before my mind, lurching up and vomiting into the bucket beside me until there's nothing left.

"Get it out of your system," a voice says, and I whirl, throwing myself to my feet and reaching to my waist for—

My body gives out and Jack jumps forward to catch me. I collapse into his arms and he guides me back to the mattress, resting my head against the pillow.

"Rest," he says.

A sob closes my throat up and tears threaten to spill, and all I manage it a single shake of the head. No.

"Isla," he says. "You're safe."

I suck in deep breaths through my nose, calming my body until I can speak without my voice trembling. "What happened?" I ask. "After I blacked out."

"They were about to throw you in the van when I came out." He sits on the bed and puts his head in his hands, running them through his hair. I notice slight bags under his eyes. "Isla, is there any reason those men would be after you?"

I hesitate, weighing my words on the tip of my tongue. The remorse in his eyes from blaming himself is far easier for me to work with than the truth. I mean, I could tell him--he's clearly not here for me. He has no idea who I am. Maybe he could help me. 

But that's not a risk I'm willing to take. 

"I..." Panic itches at my fingers. Do I tell? How much do I tell? "No," I say, mustering a mask of confusion and panic. 

"Anything weird with your parents, grandparents, cousins, aunts?" he asks. 

"No," I repeat. I look him straight in the eyes, watch him search me for a tell, for a hint that I could be lying. I crack open my emotions, let them flood me until I'm sure that's all he sees. An innocent girl who grew up in a small town, whose biggest concerns were the asshole Ryan Tamin, the physics award, and university applications. "What's going on, Jack?" My eyes well with tears. "Who are they?"

He doesn't take his eyes off my face, studying me as I blink the tears back. I study him back, looking for the confusion I know is raging inside him, but I am blind to him. Every thought in his head hides beyond an expert poker face, a canvas that can show whatever he likes. I imagine the questions forming, and I realize I'm seconds away from having to give answers that I do not have. But in the space of uncertainty in his eyes, where I'm neither innocent nor guilty, I retain one advantage: his sympathy.

"I'm gonna be sick again," I say, lurching forward. I feign the best gagging I can as he pulls my hair back. "I need to sleep," I say. I let out a whimper. "Please."

"Okay," he says, easing me down to his pillow. He straightens and watches me as I close my eyes, my mind whirling. I let myself hiccup a few times and roll over, hugging my arms to my chest. When I settle my breathing into a slow and steady pattern, I hear his footsteps leave my side. 

I keep my eyes closed and listen. I hear him rummaging in a drawer, and then the jostling of a sliding door. The sound travels well, bouncing around in a confined space that seems rather long. A tap runs, and when it shuts off, he begins speaking on the phone. A door closes, and his voice muffles to near silence. I crack open my eyes. I'm in a trailer. 

I peek through the curtains. I can just see the top of his head as he engages in an intense conversation, pacing back and forth. He glances at the window and I pull away.

We're parked somewhere past the old Weck property, concealed by a copse of trees by the highway leading to the city. I swear under my breath. If I run, he'll catch me, and then I'll be a suspect. If I stay, he'll interrogate me the moment I wake, and he'll realize things don't add up, if he hasn't already. I can't play the innocent person I need to be right now and still be the bitchy Isla I am at school, and I certainly can't play dumb when I accurately reported my assailants to him, when I called him instead of the police, when I fought back against my kidnappers. He's reporting me right now, straight by the book. Probably promising to get more answers out of me. Maybe even promising to take me in.